Sunday 26 July 2015

Sadly slipped into his cave.

I do not know how many of you remember the song Puff the Magic Dragon so beautifully rendered by Peter, Paul and Mary way back in the sixties. In those days we had record players and scratched records and hummed along our version of the lyrics which were somewhat garbled. My grandson loves this song as it was one that his father sung to him in an endearing French accent when he was a baby. Yesterday as we were both browsing the net I do not know why, except serendipity yet again at work, I decided to show him a version with the lyrics so that we could sing along. I liked the dragon bit as that is my Chinese sign and as luck or serendipity would have it, the comprehension lesson he is reading is about a little boy and a dragon. So the stage seemed set. Little did I know what awaited us. I must admit that though I have heard and hummed the song umpteen times, I never got its meaning truly, but yesterday as we sung along and watched the lovely illustrations the real and touching meaning hit me and my throat started getting constricted as the lyric became immensely sad:

Dragons live forever but not so little boys
Painted wings and giant strings make way for other toys.
One sad night it happened, Jackie Paper came no more
And Puff that mighty dragon, he ceased his fearless roar.

His head was bent in sorrow, green scales fell like rain, 
Puff no longer went to play along the cherry lane.
Without his life-long friend, puff could not be brave, 
So puff that mighty dragon sadly slipped into his cave. 

I tried to explain to my grandson how toys became sad when you cast them away and that he should remember that. That was lesson 1 for the child. But that was not what serendipity had in store. Lesson 2 was still to be learnt.

My thoughts flashed back to a day way back in October 1992 when a young woman asked her doting father how she could move on in life as she had promised to look after him to her mom on her deathbed. That father's version of serendipity was 'leave it to Him', an answer not quite up the Cartesian daughter's street. But He knew best and it took 29 short days for the father to free his child of the promise. He flew away to his beloved. He had become de trop. You guessed right it was my Pa!

Is it wisdom to know when it is time to move on. Time to take your final curtain call. Time to slip into your cave and cease your fearless roar as no one truly hears it, let alone gets scared by it.  Before you become an impediment for the very ones you love and would as you often say: die for.

I do not know why I feel this way today.