Me ... and my shadow

?Covering a song or doing a remake as its most commonly referred to, has been around almost as long as the music industry itself. Over the years, some of our most beloved listens have actually been covers; remade by a different artist looking to add a layer to the original. A guitar here, a piano riff there, a beat or two, a voice inflected this way or that way – anything to make something old seem new.

If one were to rank songs by the number of times they were remade, “Me and my Shadow” would be at or near the top. Written by Al Jolson, Dave Dreyer and Billy Rose, the song debuted in 1927 and was an immediate hit. Over the years it’s been remade by a veritable who’s who of entertainers. From Frank Sinatra to Bing Crosby to Sammy Davis Jr., Lou Rawls, and Pearl Bailey, some of our greatest talents have heeded the call of this alluring track.

It’s a playful tune and no matter the voice, it’s always sung with a smile, but if you listen closely you can’t help but sense a tinge of sorrow. It speaks of daily travels and travails, loneliness, and despair. The voice looks for companionship, someone to comfort and support them along the way but … the only presence felt … is the shadow. There are touches of hope, but the song ends darkly, but even in the darkness, the presence of the shadow shines bright.

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“Here comes your shadow” is what my father used to say to my mother each time she moved. That was his way of playfully alerting my her that their youngest child was hot on her tail. That’s right, from the time I was able to walk, if my mother moved … so did I. In a true motherly fashion, she carried me at first. A tiny woman, her friends used to marvel at her standing for what seemed like forever, me wrapped so tightly around her hip that you couldn’t tell where I began, and she ended.

When I started walking, I promise you she never left my sight. If she was hanging sheets on the clothesline, I was there getting lost in them. If mom was in the kitchen preparing dinner, I was by her side. When the family gathered to watch television, there was no need to save me a seat – her lap was my seat and it goes without saying it was the best one in the house. If she moved … her shadow moved with her.

Three short months after my seventh birthday, I was there, but my mother was gone. The angels came calling saying something about needing her back and well … we all know how beautifully those conversations end. And when it ended, it was just me. Before the angels called him, my father and I would have the best conversations about her. During those times he’d glow with the light of her love and it warmed my heart to see it happen.

Those were some of our best times and I always dug deep, exploring him to find parts of her I never found when she was here. And the more we talked, the more her he found in me. “That’s your mama talking right there … you get that from Lamona … oh yeah, that ain’t none of me—that’s her …” is what he used to say whenever he saw her rise up in me.

During one of those conversations I got it, I figured it all out and it comforted me in ways words can’t describe. The moment the angels came for her and I ceased in being her shadow … was the same moment they sent her back and she became mine. When life was good, and I thought it was just me … it wasn’t. In the darkest hours, the ones where I made it to light not knowing how I did and came out thinking it was just me … it wasn’t. At all points of life, good, bad, and in between, when I thought it was just me, I’m comforted to know … it wasn’t …

It was me … and my shadow …