The Sounds of Music

The Sound of Music, a whimsical musical which belies the serious undertones of the Nazi takeover of Austria, features songs by Rodgers and Hammerstein, came out in 1965 at the moment of America escalating the Vietnam War. It is a war movie, despite the happiness of its songs. It is magical, it is fantastic, and it is a classic. And I never saw it until I was 30 years old.

During the summer of 2011, I was in transition between the States and Korea. The part-time work kept me busy during the day, catching up with old friends kept the nights occupied and the Jersey shore kept weekends lively and sun-filled. It was a great three months spent with family and friends.

One hazy summer night my mother asked me to attend a community theater presentation of The Sound of Music. Several people from my childhood church were performing, I had never seen it and the Phillies had the night off, so I went, not sure what to expect. I was entranced within the first minutes. “How do you solve a problem like Maria? How do you catch a cloud and pin it down?” It was wonderful fun.

The actors were amateur, the stage was tiny, and the audience was a tiny group of 50 friends, yet I was holding myself back from singing along to words I had never heard before, but knew somehow. I watched the great Julie Andrews version 3 times the next week and now I am an unadulterated and unabashed fan.

I remember years ago, in my salty teenage brininess, when my family was sitting around the TV, fire crackling, with huge grins watching it, and I walked by and mentioned how I’d never seen it, my father asked incredulously, “How could you never have seen THIS?” He then broke into his loud, gesture-filled version of Edelweiss, which finalized my opinion to return to my basement hideaway. But now I know what he was talking about.

It won Best Picture and Best Sound for a reason. It won because of the transcendent singability of the songs, the mystical beauty of the Alps combined with Julie Andrews heavenly voice and smile and because Dr. Zhivago had too much snow, sadness and no singing.

One day last week, while my kindergarten kids were coloring their self-portraits, I started humming or whistling Do-Re-Mi and three kids finished the verse with the lyrics: “…a drop of golden sun…” I was so excited I put it on YouTube and we all sang together. It was so great, and another little moment of unexpected joy teaching the younglings. I grew up with timeless, ageless Wizard of Oz. I’m glad I saved this one for a time when I was mature enough to enjoy it.

The daunting task of climbing every mountain still lies ahead of me, but I am following the rainbow, searching for my dream.

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