Tag Archives: cindy oh cindy

Memory Lane: ‘Cindy, Oh, Cindy’

I remember my father playing this song on the radio as he painted our upstairs bedrooms, which used to be the attic until he converted it–with his own hands.

Cindy, Oh Cindy–I was seven years old when this was popular and I was watching Daddy paint the walls. This version is by Vince Martin and the Tarriers. There are others.

I can’t hear it without thinking of my father–and missing him. He went to sea when he was little more than a boy, joined the Navy to fight in World War II. I’m sure this song made him recall those days.

If I could impart just one lesson to the relatively young, it would be this: There will come a time in your life when you’re losing more people than you gain; so with your family, with your friends, love ’em while you’ve got ’em. You come into the world as the youngest member of your family; and some of us live to see themselves the oldest member of their family.

Love with all your heart. It’s not like money, you don’t run out of it by spending it. God doesn’t let that happen. Love without stinting. You’ll never be sorry you did.

A Wee Memory Break

My father really liked this song, “Cindy Oh Cindy.” Hearing it again opened up my memory banks…

I have just thought of something that I haven’t thought about in many years.

Once upon a summer’s day, my Grammie and her new husband, John, took me to Island Beach State Park for swimming and fishing. I think I was 11 years old. John was a retired Dutch sailor. He told great stories and played the harmonica like nobody’s business.

We had a long drive down to the park, and when we got to the first gate, there was some kind of problem and they were turning people away. We got up to the booth, expecting to be told we couldn’t come in: but then the man in the booth saw John and burst into Dutch.

It turned out he and John were old, old friends who hadn’t seen each other in donkey’s years. The man’s name was Rudi.

“You wait a minute,” he said, “I wrote you a note, then they let you in.” He scribbled something onto a piece of paper–a happy old man with the tip of his tongue slipping out as he concentrated on writing in English–handed it to John, and waved us through the gate.

Grammie read the note aloud. It said, “This are my frends, please let them in.”

And she said, “You could get into heaven with a note like that.”

I’ll bet they did, too, all three of them.

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