I have shifted from being a day working, frequently traveling court researcher (with suits and briefcases and court appearances and public presentations) to a theatre writer, reviewer, creator, observer. Let us say I have more flexibility in my schedule these days — you can write on a laptop in any hotel room, I have found, from San Francisco to London. And my flexibility and husband’s need to be in a beautiful part of the country I have not visited often has led to our making a little driving vacation and work trip from Philadelphia to North Carolina and back over the next few days. I will drink in life on a fancy estate in Winston-Salem, and then spend a few days in Asheville musing on my adolescent writing crush Thomas Wolfe and the beautiful excesses of Biltmore, the 8000 acre Vanderbilt estate. I imagine I’ll be blogging a bit about all of these experiences.
So its Carolina in the Morning. Or better said, I’ll be traveling toward Carolina in the morning. Which of course puts me in mind of a 1920s tune I grew up hearing as hummed by my standard-loving, goofy adorable mother Cecily. She would say it was a Jolson tune (or that’s how she first heard it). I later learned it had words by Gus Kahn (who also wrote the tune Dream a Little Dream of Me that had a 1970s life as sung by Mama Cass Elliott, another singer along with Judy Garland I was turned onto by Mom) and music by Walter Donaldson. I have heard Carolina in the Morning performed by Judy Garland and each of her daughters and a raft of other singers. This is a song of romantic observation, of gentle living, of sweet summer sunshine. And it makes my heart smile, thinking of Mom and all she gave me. So on to another lovely adventure.
Nothing could be finer than to be in Carolina in the morning, No one could be sweeter than my sweetie when I meet her in the morning. Where the morning glories Twine around the door, Whispering pretty stories I long to hear once more. Strolling with my girlie where the dew is pearly early in the morning, Butterflies all flutter up and kiss each little buttercup at dawning, If I had Aladdin’s lamp for only a day, I’d make a wish and here’s what I’d say: Nothing could be finer than to be in Carolina in the morning.