B EVERLY H OC H, E P S I LO N P H I , D E N TO N A LU M N I
Singing the Old, Old Songs
Jeremy Salapek
Finding Unexpected Joy During the Pandemic
Nadine Hoch and her daughter, Beverly Hoch
My mother wrote in my baby book that I was singing before I was talking. My dad must have believed that every occasion could be made better with a spontaneous, heartfelt song. He’d strike up our favorite old-timey songs as we drove the seven miles back to our house from a Sunday evening at my grandfolks’ farm. “O Mister Moon, moon, bright and shiny moon, won’tcha please shine down on me?” mother’s sweet soprano harmonizing at the sixth. Dad always delighted us with crazy songs, sometimes playing his ukulele. Here’s one: “Kokadum, mickadee, lickadiddle huggyduggy” (come with me my little honey) “and ligadissen to my sogadong” (and listen to my song). My first stage was the dining room table. I was hoisted up by Dad for a stellar rendition of “How Much Is That Doggie in the Window?” (arf-arf ). And I 14 muphiepsilon.org
loved to climb up on the woodpile to serenade the neighbor’s cattle in the pasture behind the house. The school music programs in Marion, Kansas, (population 2,300) flourished. Solos and ensembles regularly filled the community’s need for programs. There were dozens of Girl Scout songs and church choir. “Bursting into song” was what we did.
A few pieces of sheet music met with my youthful scissors, sadly, but trimming did make them easier to turn. No time to dally for page turns when playing a rag!
