From the Memoir: [My father] was in a good mood and burst into loud song as we strolled down this big street. In his pleasant tenor he exulted,
Some think!
The world was made for fun and frolic.
And so do I!
And so do I!
Harken, harken, music sounds afar!
And so on. Harken, harken, music sounds afar, funiculi, funicula. People turned, stared, smiled. When I finally saw Gene Kelly in the movies I saw a huskier version of my father and heard my father’s voice.
I was too young to be embarrassed. I was thrilled. The world, as it often does for children (and sometimes for adults, too), sprang open another door and let me glimpse an attitude, a style it would also tolerate. Funiculi, funicula. You could believe in and propagandize simple joy. I know now that my father was probably manic-depressive. And for most of my later life I’ve feared and been ashamed of this genetic craziness. But at five I just saw freedom in his out-loud happiness.
Some think!
The world was made for fun and frolic.
And so do I!
And so do I!
Harken, harken, music sounds afar!
And so on. Harken, harken, music sounds afar, funiculi, funicula. People turned, stared, smiled. When I finally saw Gene Kelly in the movies I saw a huskier version of my father and heard my father’s voice.
I was too young to be embarrassed. I was thrilled. The world, as it often does for children (and sometimes for adults, too), sprang open another door and let me glimpse an attitude, a style it would also tolerate. Funiculi, funicula. You could believe in and propagandize simple joy. I know now that my father was probably manic-depressive. And for most of my later life I’ve feared and been ashamed of this genetic craziness. But at five I just saw freedom in his out-loud happiness.