This One's For You, Mommy
#14 Bridge Over Troubled Waters – Simon & Garfunkel 1970
Today’s song is as much memorial to my mother as it is a blog about a favorite song. I was a 
fan of Simon and Garfunkel from their first recording, from “The Sound of Silence” to “Song for the Asking” (the last song on their last studio album, Bridge Over Troubled Water. After they stopped recording together, I continued to enjoy music from their solo careers. One of Art Garfunkel’s recordings is the Food Guy’s and my “song” (for a later date).
But back to “Bridge.” I dated a guy in my first year at university who was perfect for the time, he had a moustache and long hair and my dad hated him. It was more of a platonic relationship than anything; frankly, I think he did it to spite a high school girlfriend with whom he’d just broken up with when we met in American Literature class. None of that made it feel any better when he broke up with me, and since I told my mom everything, I told her about my broken heart.
Now, you must understand about my mom. Maybe a lot of moms are like this, but my mom thought that every bad thing that ever happened to me was her fault, especially the result of her having left my dad (and me and my sister) because he was driving her nuts. We finally had words about this several years later, but I honestly think the only difference after that is that she stopped voicing her opinion that all sad things in my life were her responsibility.
I knew she listened to the radio and liked pop and easy listening tunes, and I often sent her (we’re talking snail mail here) the lyrics to some of the songs I thought she’d like. “Bridge” was one of those songs. So, when I told her about this most recent break-up, she declared it was her fault. “If only I hadn’t you’re your dad!” I would usually say something dismissive and change the subject. Several days later, she told me that she’d heard “Bridge Over Troubled Water” on the radio, and it made her cry.
The first verse is
When you're weary, feeling small
When tears are in your eyes, I will dry them all
I'm on your side, oh, when times get rough
And friends just can't be found
Like a bridge over troubled water
I will lay me down
Like a bridge over troubled water
I will lay me down
Rather than be the cause of all my life’s ills, my mom was sometimes the only person I could talk to. We laughed, we cried, we joked, and acted like idiots sometimes. We were friends. Sometimes when we were out in public, people thought we were sisters or close friends. When friends couldn’t be found, we were there for each other.
When you're down and out
When you're on the street
When evening falls so hard
I will comfort you
I'll take your part, oh, when darkness comes
And pain is all around…
I moved to Australia in 1999 and it became increasingly difficult to get her on the phone; she rarely answered my mail. She fell into a deep depression. Perhaps these were symptoms of her early dementia, but now I was the one who felt responsible. When all else failed, I flew home to look after my dad as he underwent treatment for non-Parkinson’s lymphoma and to try to get my mom into long term care. But I didn’t have power of attorney, and she wasn’t lucid enough to grant it. We had to wait for her to have an “episode” so the state could commit her in 2005. I was thousands of miles away and it was horrible.
If you look up facts about the song, you’ll read that Paul Simon decided, when they were recording, that Art Garfunkel should sing the song solo. At first, Garfunkel resisted, but in the end, he sang it “like a white choir boy” and Simon sings harmony in the last verse. The piano adds to the gospel atmosphere of the song, with a Phil Spector “Wall of Sound” at the end, courtesy of studio musicians, including “The Wrecking Crew.” It entered the Billboard Hot 100 at 13, rose to #3 the next week, and then spent six weeks at #1 before being bumped by The Beatles’ “Let It Be.” It won the Grammy that year for best song and best recording. It became Simon & Garfunkel’s ‘theme song.’ More than 50 artists have covered it.Meanwhile, I moved back to the U.S. in 2006. I visited my mother every year and watched my best friend slowly slip away. They call Alzheimer’s and dementia “the long goodbye,” but that’s misleading because you never get to say goodbye. One day they don’t know who you are, and those days continue to increase, until they don’t know you at all. The last time I saw my mom in the nursing home, in the Spring of 2017, she woke up from a nap, thin and frail, and grabbed my hand when I said, “Hello” and she said, “I’m so glad you came.” I told her I was glad to be there,” and gave her a hug. She had a firm grasp of both my hands and said, “I love you.” I told her I loved her, too. She eventually fell back to sleep, but she never let go of my hands until I had to extricate myself to leave. She died in November 2017.
At her graveside service, it was just me, the Food Guy, and her other “daughter,” my bestie, Janis Slater. I played “In the Sweet By and By,” Kasey Chambers’ “Mother,” Glen Miller’s, “Moonlight Serenade,” and “Bridge Over Troubled Water” in the freezing cold.
Sail on silver girl
Sail on by
Your time has come to shine
All your dreams are on their way
See how they shine
Oh, if you need a friend
I'm sailing right behind
Like a bridge over troubled water
I will ease your mind
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