La Bamba performs magic every day in our house

admin on 22 Mar 2008

Awhile ago, I wrote about the miracles of the song La Bamba. Now, the song has appeared again in our lives, quite by accident (the debate of whether anything is an accident…well for another time…). A friend that was leaving for the States gave me this stack of wonderful CDs. We love them for the car. And I much prefer the group singing over DVDs. It reminds me of singing away to Loretta Lynn when I was young. (Again I’m dating myself!)

One of these CDs was by a guy named Red Grammer. I had no idea who this guy was, but he can sing. His voice is like a smooth milkshake - vanilla - with the real beans. This CD is a bunch of folk songs. Addison will not eat a meal without the CD. The folky-folk songs like Gary Indiana, America the Beautiful, and Day-O are pressed upon my brain like a vice grip. The nannies can sing them - and they speak Spanish. Since La Bamba is in Spanish, the nannies really belt this one out.

About 3/4 the way through the CD - just about the time Addison gets cranky - La Bamba plays on the CD. What is it about this song? Red Grammer’s voice bellows the tune with such joy, no one can resist swinging their hips or at least singing along. Everyone’s got their own rendition. This is my favorite part:

Para bailar la bamba
Para bailar la bamba se necesita una poca de gracia
Una poca de gracia para mi, para ti
Y arriba y arriba
Y arriba y arriba por ti sere, por ti sere, por ti sere

To dance the bamba
to dance the bambe you need a bit of thanks
and up and up
and up and up for you I will be, for you I will be (there)

And I love this one:

Para subir al cielo
Para subir al cielo
Se necesita una escalera grande
Una escalera grande y otra chiquita

To rise to the sky
To rise to the sky
Big stairs are needed
Biig stairs and another little one (just in case)

It’s just a happy song about going up to the sky. Looking up. Being up. As it goes on, it doesn’t make a lot of sense. But to me it makes perfect, complete, and true logic. And after Addison swings his blond hair back and forth like a true rocker, he finishes his dinner.

The power of La Bamba continues to spread in our house. Addison, who can wave a mean hello and goodbye, now claps. Not a big, fat applause like adults. No, he gently pads his too hands together. Only the palms hit; his fingers bend back. There is no sound. Except of course for all the gushing comments of adoration from the people that see him perform.

He began all this clapping the other day while we were in the pool. He was standing on my hands and looking quite tall, when I started singing La Bamba. He splashed the water with fervor and then clapped to the tune. He beamed with pride and looked so tall. He’d rest for a minute, and then he’d smile big and his bottom teeth would show. I’d start singing, and he’d start clapping again.

I think I might have to start a cult, or at least a rumor, of the healing powers of La Bamba.

Funny thing……I never knew the words to La Bamba until my daughter taught them to me. My daughter, Coco, shouted the lyrics because she hasn’t quite got the concept that we can’t hear what she’s grooving to. I had to turn off the podcast I was listening to because I couldn’t here it. I gave her my CD player because I was tired of hearing children’s songs. I also thought the CD player and mounds of CDs were a waste – just sitting there – unused because I’d discovered newer, shinier.

Stacks of cassettes have been replaced by disks - DVDs, CDs, CD-RW, DVD-RW. Instead of decreasing the amount of items I store in plastics bins, I accumulated more. And, I keep buying machines to copy the outdated copy. There’s piles of photos, backup photos, movies, backup to movies. I can’t get myself to part with the celluloid, so I store them until they end up getting moldy, which they will all eventually do here.

Why do I keep all these copies, all these photos, all this information? We’re all creating this information, this history. I see parent after parent filming that once-in-a-lifetime event: birthday parties, weddings, school plays. But the truth is: who ever watches them? Am I desperate for a sense of permanency, when really, there isn’t any?

I’m tripping and bumping over information everywhere I go - even here in little ol’Costa Rica. There are little gadgets I’d like to buy. But, it gets to be an addiction and a distraction from the actual making, doing, listening, or enjoying the information packed on all that petroleum.

I decided to pull out a small stack of photo albums of my daughter. She looked through every page, reminiscing like an old lady of her childhood. “Look mami!” she exclaimed. “Its me and grandma when we went to the zoo and saw that seal. What was his name?”

“Sparky,” I said.

“Sparky,” she said like she was warm all over.

When I told everyone in our house about Coco’s singing in the car, she got so excited, she fetched the CD player and walked around the house shouting La Bamba – over and over again. Everyone in the house was whistling and singing. Now we all know the song, each and every word.