From "Amazing Grace" to "99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall"

The other day I found myself singing in the shower, if you know me you know that this is a rare thing. I am not a singer. The song I chose to sing was an old one; "99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall." Who doesn't love that? I haven't sung it in years and it reminded me of days gone by.

When I was a kid my Grandparents lived on the river. Their street wasn't too busy and they knew almost everyone. My Grandma loved to go for walks. We walked that road thousands of times over the years, from their house to the old cemetery. We would talk while we walked, about life, about family, about anything and everything, and we would sing.

My Grandma loved music. She played piano by ear and was pretty good at it and she sang pretty well for an old lady. We sang anything my Grandma and Grandpa could think of. We sang things varying from "Amazing Grace" to "99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall." It would all flow right together. The way it usually worked was Grandma picked a song and then Grandpa picked the next... It made for some interesting combinations. Much to Grandma's dismay, when my brother or I got to pick we usually picked one of Grandpa's songs. Our favorite song went like this:

The first marine went over the top, parlez vous.

The second marine went over the top, parelz vous.

The third marine stayed behind,

Kissed the girls and drank the wine.

Inky Dinky parlez vous.

My Grandpa says they sang it during World War II. My brother and I loved it. Over the years I have heard many versions of this, but never the one we sang.

As I said earlier, my Grandma had musical talent. My brother has a decent amount of musical talent. My Grandpa not so much and then you have me... I have NO musical skills. I have just enough that I can tell that I am off key and I can't carry a tune in a bucket. For a while my Grandma just let me sing. I was little and she thought I would grow out of it. Sadly, I never grew out of it. As I got older my Grandma got more vocal about my skills, or lack thereof. She made rude comments about how I couldn't sing and how I needed to learn. She tried and tried to teach me to carry a tune, but alas... we finally both gave up. We were discouraged. I was tired of her being mean to me because I couldn't sing and she was tired of me stinking at it so badly.

We still went on walks, we just had to talk more or walk in silence. When they moved we all missed our walks there. I have many fond memories of our walks along the road and wandering the old cemetery.

A few years ago, my Grandma called me and says "I'm sorry." I was confused and asked what she was sorry for. She responded with "I'm sorry for being mean to you about your singing and making you quit singing as a kid." It was rare for my Grandma to apologize for anything and while I appreciated her apology I found it to be hilarious that she apologized for something that had happened almost 20 years ago.

I sure miss those days. The walks and the singing.... even if I still can't carry a tune in a bucket.