When my youngest grandchild, Penelope, was an infant, I created and sang a song for her to keep her entertained, engaged in communication and play, and to greet her every time we met.
It’s Penelope, walking through the jungle, looking for her friends and singing a song.
It’s Penelope, walking through the jungle, would you like to come along?
I sang the song in many different ways, with and without words, sometimes adding a B section, and performing in different keys, tempos, and styles. Her parents used the tune to greet her in the morning and help her learn her name. Those moments created a future for the child, the family, and the tune together.
Now, four years after our original play with the tune, I sang it for her again. Upon hearing the tune, she came to me, climbed into my lap, and fell asleep in my arms. It seemed to me as if the tune and perhaps the presence of family and her sense of belonging in the world at that moment — and perhaps an ancient recollection of the tune heard during infancy — all converged to say “I am safe,” “this is us,” “I belong.”
Each experience creates a memory that carries within it a seed for the future. We cannot predict the timing or the nature of the rebirth, but we can enjoy the memory and new experience.
Beth Bolton, PhD
Vice Dean for Faculty and Academic Affairs
Center for Performing and Cinematic Arts
Temple University