You got what I need

A couple months ago, Jordan Baker pointed out this story in the Post about an old (elderly? senior? advanced age?) woman who wrote a book called The Joy of Drinking that went along with her earlier book Endangered Pleasures, "which praised cigarettes, naps, bacon, swearing, loafing and other precious joys." Most of the comments on Jordan's post praised exactly that praising, and God knows I'm alongside them, but there was one quote in the story that really stood out to me:

"I'm in favor of a little more sociability, a little more merriment, maybe even a little more singing and dancing," she says. "Jeepers, I'm so old that I remember when we all used to sing all the time."

I do love that a woman who loves swearing chose to say "jeepers", but what really made me glaze over with joy was this past reality when people would pepper their lives with singing, both alone and together. Song was an active part of life and not just a form of passive entertainment. I daydream about being able to burst into Of Montreal's "Bunny Ain't No Kind of Rider" and having people join in to entertain no one but ourselves. I dream of singing out an appropriate line during a conversation and not having people look at me like I just offered them a trampling.

This little daydream came to a nighttime reality as I was walking down U Street last night, heading home after the Femi Kuti show at the 9:30. Approaching 16th, a drunk group of three girls and a guy burst into Biz Markee's "Just A Friend." A group of about six people heading the other way joined in. I joined in. One of the girls in the first group turned around and smiled at me as we sang together. For just a second, we were groups of strangers singing a famously terrible-but-fun song, not as a performance or a boast, but only because we wanted to and it felt good.

We stopped singing and I veered off onto New Hampshire, as the girls in the group turned back inward and started into a round of "I love you so much" that was as inspired as much by that thrilling release of singing as their intake of booze. It was a great moment that only had one bad part: I wish it happened more often.