Bill Moeller Commentary: CD Halts Plans to Cease Writing About Nostalgia

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I promised myself, very recently in fact, that I’d call a temporary halt and cease-fire in my writing about nostalgia and how much better things used to be “way back when.” Then I was heading back home Monday morning after running a few errands. At a stop sign I reached behind my seat for a CD, popped it into my player, and my world — and my resolve — changed.

Very few people today — in this country, at least — have even heard of Vera Lynn, and those who have, most likely haven’t thought of her for who knows how long. During the years of World War II, though, people could recognize the voices of FDR, Winston Churchill and Vera Lynn quicker than anyone else.

She was British, and still is, as a matter of fact. You see, this powerhouse of a singer who was born in 1917 is, according to her updated biography, still living today. You do the math, if you have enough fingers. She no longer sings, but devotes her time to painting with watercolors.

 Not too many years ago she did something that no other singer has ever done. In 2009, an album of her best-loved songs rose to the No. 1 position in Great Britain. This was at the age of 92! Queen Elizabeth named her dame of the British Empire in 1975.

Hers was the voice of confidence in the future. When she sang, “We’ll meet again, don’t know where, don’t know when, but I know we’ll meet again some sunny day,” you believed her and you believed that it could and would happen. 

When she sang, “There’ll be bluebirds over the white cliffs of Dover tomorrow, just you wait and see,” the hope that that song evinced was perfectly implanted in our minds. She didn’t appear to have any special formula for singing, but it was there. Her secret was simple: She sang the story of the song, not just the words. She made us all feel as if she meant every word she sang, and she did.

She wasn’t the only one to have that ability, although the list isn’t a long one. Frank Sinatra did, too, after he broke away from the established record companies. Bing Crosby didn’t, although he sounded awfully nice and pleasant. Peggy Lee did. Janice Joplin did too, in spite of singing at the top of her lungs. Pat Boone didn’t.



Maybe the reason I’m nostalgic is that I’ve added another year onto my lifespan today. I’m not 90 yet, but I’m starting to push it pretty hard. It’s been a good life, all things considered, and I had an experience recently that put a whole new meaning to the lives we lead.

I won’t mention names, but a friend recently sent me a picture of the two of us engaged in a mutual project, along with a short note. I mean short; it was only seven words. The note read, simply, “We were good at what we did.” Can any of us ask for a better summation of our days on this Earth than that? We were good at what we did. That’s about all any of us should expect to have any right to say.

I didn’t intend to get so philosophical when I started at the top of page one, but I’m not sorry I did. Perhaps the curmudgeon will return next week. At that time I’ll also mention an event in which I have, shall we say, a special interest.

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Bill Moeller is a former entertainer, mayor, bookstore owner, city council member, paratrooper and pilot living in Centralia. He can be reached at bookmaven321@comcast.net.