OK... Is anyone as uncomfortable as I, recalling the lyrics of Stephen Foster songs we sang in grammar school music classes? Mrs. May would accompany us on autoharp as we sang such memorable lines as skeeters am a-hummin on de honey-suckle vine, sleep Kentucky babe.... I wont even quote the worst fake slave-dialect lyrics that are still taking up some of my brain cells, but when I told a friend recently, she asked if I had attended KKK Regional Grammar School. As many of you know, Stephen Foster was a northerner who had never been to the South, but penned many songs that waxed rhapsodic about the antebellum South, many in dialect. At Central Avenue School, African-American students were in the distinct minority, but they were classmates and I cringe to think of what must have been their profound discomfort. I loved music, and loved Trudy May, but even back then these lyrics troubled me. Madison was and remains a lovely place to grow up, but it wasnt immune to cultural blindspots, thats for sure!
Posted on: Sat, 26 Jul 2014 14:32:53 +0000
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