Recently, I saw an article about the American classic song “Ol’ Man River” from the 1927 musical and 1936 film classic “Show Boat.” The song was composed by Jerome Kern, a secular Jew with hardly any connection to his faith.
The song contrasts the struggles and hardships of enslaved African-Americans with the endless, seemingly apathetic, flowing Mississippi River.
“Ol’ man river… he must know something cause he just keeps rolling… rolling along… I gets weary, sick of trying, I’m tired of living, fearing of dyin, but ol’ man river, he keeps rolling along.”
Normally, an article about such a song would not have caught my eye. But that particular song evokes very strong emotions within me.
My father’s father, my beloved Sabba, was full of vitality and life. He was the consummate gentleman, with a good word and a smile for everyone.
We grew up living just a few blocks away from Sabba and Savta on the Lower East Side, and davened together every Shabbos. When we moved to Monsey, we would return to visit every few weeks on Sunday afternoons.
I was 11½ years old when Sabba was diagnosed with the melanoma that would consume his vitality, and eventually his life. The last time I saw him in his apartment he was very weak from treatments, and each family member could only go into the room one at a time.
As we waited to go into his room, the television was on in the living room, and the movie “Show Boat” was on.
Just before I went in to Sabba, I saw and heard the song “Ol’ Man River.” Despite the fact that I only heard the song that once, I never forgot it.
Shortly after the song ended, it was my turn to go into Sabba’s room.
In the room was only my father, myself and Sabba. But lying in the bed, looking at me with his shining eyes, wasn’t the Sabba I knew and adored. Aside from times past when I snuggled next to him in bed, I had never even seen him lying down. Now he appeared so weak and frail. We spoke for a few minutes as I tried unsuccessfully to squelch my tears.
I only saw Sabba one more time, in the hospital.
On the night of March 29, 1992, my 12th birthday, my mother was holding a birthday cake for me when she received the painful call from my father that Sabba had passed away. It was the bitterest birthday cake I ever had.
Old Man River always symbolizes to me the river of life, which flows and rages ceaselessly. We do not control its direction, but we do have to learn how to navigate its current and flow.
Every one of us finds ourselves in different parts of the river. Our predecessors have charted the course for us and have brought us downstream as far as they could go. Then they allegorically handed over the sails to us so that we can continue to steer ourselves farther downstream and ensure that we maintain course and not be swayed by the tempests of life.
That Old Man River has seen many things and can tell many stories. The only constant is the presence of our weather-beaten ship, which somehow continues to flow uninhibited along its epic course.
How often do we remind ourselves of the beginning of our journey, performing numerous mitzvot as a “zecher l’Yetziat Mitzrayim.” Doing so reminds us of our mission to maintain our responsibility to keep flowing until the ship reaches port.
This Friday, 4 Nisan, marks Sabba’s yahrtzeit. His inspiration and example continues to inspire our family to traverse that Old Man River and to give our children and grandchildren the timeless gift that our parents and grandparents gave us.
As we sit down to our Seder each year, we connect ourselves with generations past and future, who ensured, and will ensure, our continuous course along that Old Man River.
By Rabbi Dani Staum
Rabbi Dani Staum, LMSW, is the rabbi of Kehillat New Hempstead as well as guidance counselor and seventh-grade rebbe in ASHAR, principal at Mesivta Ohr Naftoli of New Windsor and a division head at Camp Dora Golding. He also presents parenting classes based on the acclaimed Love and Logic methods. His email address is: [email protected]. His website is: www.stamtorah.info.
