PATTY

by patty hannum

BURT BACHARACH DIED LAST MONTH.

I thought he was one of those forever people. You know the person you see pop up from time to time, and no matter how you feel, they make you happy. In Burt’s case, it was not quite the person but his music. If you don’t know Burt, well, I feel bad for you.

Sure, it is much easier to be a fangirl of The Rolling Stones, Pearl Jam or John Mayer, but there are a few of us who love his music and gladly purchased his multi-CD collection. But I might be his biggest fan because he taught me how to be a mother.

Let me explain. As a new mom 34 years ago, I was clueless. My son seemed to be some sort of alien that had popped into my life even though I had attended my Lamaze classes and read What to Expect When You’re Expecting. Here was John Arthur Hannum, so now what? I got the feeding and diapering part down, but the rest was a fog.

I had the baby blues, and I was lost until Burt came zooming back into my life and helped me figure out

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IT’S TIME TO SPREAD OUR LOVE FOR THE PEOPLE

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how to calm this squeaking being that needed me.

As my son would fuss, I quickly learned that with the right pace of walking and singing I could comfort him. The only songs I seemed to know the lyrics to were those written by Burt. There were no sweet lullabies for my baby boy, just a repeat of “Do You Know The Way to San Jose?,” “Raindrops Keep Falling on My Head” and “I Say a Little Prayer.” It was as if my brain could only focus on my baby and songs composed and written by Burt. By the time my daughter was born, I was much more comfortable with babies, and I knew the right sway of my hips and songs to sing. Burt kind of faded away.

Fast forward to my son’s wedding. The mother-son dance is one of my favorite traditions. There are so many beautiful songs that people choose for that special moment. The lyrics talk about the bond of a mother and son, but when Jack and I decided on our song, there was only one option: “Do You Know the Way to San Jose?” Sure, there were some quizzical looks from the guests as we danced, but many knew the story. It wasn’t the song’s words, but instead, it reminded both of us of my first attempts at being his mother. One chapter ended that day and another one began.

So, each morning when I wake up to put on my makeup, I am reminded of Burt. In my head, I always meant to write Burt Bacharach to tell him how much his songs kept me and my son sane and happy.

Sadly, I never sent the fan mail, and now, it is too late. Except this mom has a column where she can declare her love of Burt! It also is a reminder to reach out to those people who in some weird way positively impacted your life and tell them. And while Burt never knew I existed, I think he would have loved knowing his music made me a better mother. Because, as Burt told us “In That’s What Friends Are For,” keep smiling—in my case, singing and swaying. I hope you have someone like Burt in your life. Peace my peeps. &