The sixth post of My Top 100 Tracks
I swim 3 times a week. It's about the only physical or sporting activity I'm any good at. I had lessons through my childhood so know roughly what you're supposed to do. Because of a bad back, swimming is the best form of exercise for me and, due to hypertension, the doctor says I should exercise vigorously several times a week. It's what happens when you get older. When I go swimming, there's often a water aerobics class in the pool, most members of which are older people in their 70s and above, mostly but not only women. When I see them, I hope when I get out it won't coincide with the end of their class. This isn't because they're not nice people. It's just that the showers are all taken up and you have to wait around for ages to get a free one. In fact, the people from the class are great fun. There's a lot of shouting, loud cackling, mutual piss-taking and so forth. It follows on through the changing rooms all around me and them gradually leaving and waving goodbye to the receptionists and each other.
One week I was there, a tiny lady in the showers who must have been in her mid-80s at least turned to me with a beaming smile and, referring to the cacophony of shouting and laughing around us, said delightedly that she loved her weekly visits to the pool as the rest of the week she was alone. She looked a lovely lady and, at that moment, very happy. I wanted to tell her about a local befriending service but thought it might seem patronising and (sadly) lost my nerve. Maybe she does have the odd visit from family or others, but she said she was alone all week apart from this visit so it must have been generally true.
People get old. When my Mum was into her 50s she said she felt she'd become invisible. I was dubious but when I got to that stage it was the same. I've had my fill of the experience of people growing older in recent years, mainly living with the ageing of others but also beginning to feel it myself, in the latter case including some thankfully false alarms of what could have been serious health problems but turned out not to be. I thought when you got older it would be a tranquil slope of slowing down, calm, spent in reclining chairs reading, listening to music, watching TV, gentle walks, receiving younger relatives, afternoon naps, and gradually fading away. It turns out it's not like this at all. It's a succession of increasing health problems, often serious, crises, emergencies, physical and psychological struggles, and much more.
And for many, like the old lady at the pool, it's about isolation, because of the passing of spouses, friends, relatives, and loss of mobility and increasing housebound-ness. I lived alone for many years and was pretty good at it. In fact, I liked it and chose it. But in my 50s it stopped working and, to cut a long story short, I ended up with a great partner who moved in during the peak pandemic years and we tied the knot. I was 60 when I did the latter. Better late than never.
John Prine has written many beautiful songs, funny, tender, gentle, compassionate, caustic, original, interesting, one of the great songwriters and lyricists. If you see videos of him performing he wears an infectious smile. I've long been aware of Prine but only in recent years really listened seriously to his music and properly discovered him, in part because my son was a big fan which made me concentrate on listening to the songs. After many horrible and punishing health problems that he got through, Prine died during the pandemic from Covid-related issues, in 2020 aged 73. Soon after his death I sat down and listened to his songs all day and when I told my son I'd done this he said, 'What a beautiful day'.
Hello In There is specifically about the isolation and loneliness that many old people suffer. Amazingly, he wrote it when he was just 22, so long away in age from the people he was writing about. It's on his first album, released in 1971. It's a beautiful song with some heart-rending lines and there's this lovely live sombre performance of it. Prine himself here is showing the consequences of cancer treatment, his neck damaged and his voice changed to a more gravelly sound. He looks unrecognisable compared to his younger self. But he's full of life and character. After his death, his family set up the Hello in There Foundation to support people who are marginalised or discriminated against. There's a lovely version of Hello in There by Bette Midler.
Prine has written many other great songs. When I did my aforementioned aged 60 civil partnership I got my guitar out on the big day and my new partner, her parents, and I sang She is My Everything, a lovely and funny song with some of the best lyrics ever ('I'd like to drive a Cadillac the colour of her long black hair'). I'm not that good on the guitar but generally Prine's songs aren't too difficult to strum along to, which is good for me. Lake Marie is just G, C, and D played over and over. Even I can do that. I was astounded to discover he wrote Angel from Montgomery, a hugely covered song. I'd heard many people singing it many times before I found out Prine composed it. Another favourite of mine is the intriguing just-mentioned Lake Marie. Another, the hilarious but tender In Spite of Ourselves with the great Iris de Ment who I saw live in Brighton recently. Iris is also in My Top Tracks; I'll come back to that in another post.
Prine was not averse to a bit of critical social and political commentary, especially on the USA at war.
Here are the lyrics to Hello in There:
We had an apartment in the city
Me and Loretta liked living there
Well, it'd been years since the kids had grown
A life of their own left us alone
John and Linda live in Omaha
And Joe is somewhere on the road
We lost Davy in the Korean War
And I still don't know what for, don't matter anymore
You know that old trees just grow stronger
And old rivers grow wilder every day
Old people just grow lonesome
Waiting for someone to say, "Hello in there, hello"
Me and Loretta, we don't talk much more
She sits and stares through the backdoor screen
And all the news just repeats itself
Like some forgotten dream that we've both seen
Someday I'll go and call up Rudy
We worked together at the factory
But what could I say if he asks "What's new?"
"Nothing, what's with you? Nothing much to do"
You know that old trees just grow stronger
And old rivers grow wilder every day
Old people just grow lonesome
Waiting for someone to say, "Hello in there, hello"
So if you're walking down the street sometime
And spot some hollow ancient eyes
Please don't just pass 'em by and stare as if you didn't care
Say, "Hello in there, hello"