Sorry, Lena

"Don't know why there's no sun up in the sky, stormy weather..." so go the opening lines to Lena Horne's signature song,"Stormy Weather." We were not allowed to listen to this song when it came on the radio, or of course, sing it. During World War II, my dad was stationed in New Guinea and the Philippines, where he was known as the Frank Sinatra of the South Pacific. He had a great voice and was MC for all the shows there for the troops.  One day, Lena Horne singing "Stormy Weather" began playing on the radio, and one of the GI's told my dad  never to listen to that song because it was a hard luck song. Probably in war more than any other situation, people take superstition very seriously, so my dad turned off the radio in deference to his fellow soldier and promised never to listen to it again. The next day, the other soldier was killed. Back at home, after the war, that song played frequently, and every time it began to play, Dad would change the station. I asked why, and he related the story and his promise. I, too, would never listen to the song. One day while I was in college, someone played the whole song for me. So many years had passed, and I was away from home. For the first time, I heard the haunting melody and all the words. I thought, "Well, this song hasn't done Lena Horne any harm!" But, just to be on the safe side, I decided never to listen to it again.  About 25 years later, my husband underwent a heart-pancreas transplant, the first one ever. I was hopeful that our decision to allow this historic surgery would save his life which was hours away from ending without it. A few days later as he lay in intensive care after the surgery, I went to the hospital cafeteria with a friend.  As we walked down the hallway, the piped-in music began a new melody, "Stormy Weather." For the first time since the successful surgery, I felt the possibility that he would not make it. My composure and, till that moment, positive attitude were shattered by hearing that music, that hard luck song.

In the beginning

Mom was always afraid of thunder and lightning until the stormy night she was in labor.  Dad was in Marfa,Texas, on base waiting to hear that he was a father. His commanding officer had told him, “You were there at the laying of the keel, you don’t have to be there for the launching.” In other words, Dad would get his leave once he got word that his wife had given birth. So Mom went through labor without him. Outside the hospital, the storm was raging, and Mom was frightened until she unexpectedly thought, “I am becoming a mother now, and I don’t want my baby to feel my fear, so I am not going to be afraid of thunder and lightning any more.” For us, that was a bigger boom than any thunderclap would produce that night.