Last weekend, at the tender age of five, my son was one of the featured performers at a folk festival workshop. The workshop was “Families That Sing Together,” and when we asked him if he wanted to sing anything with us, he answered without hesitation, “I’ll sing ‘Freight Train.'” So for a group of about fifty dyed in the wool folkies, with me playing guitar, my son sang the sweetest version of “Freight Train” you ever heard. He had learned the song from an old Libba Cotten album, so he knew it cold, the way it was written:
Freight train, freight train
Run so fast
Freight train, freight train
Run so fast
Please don’t tell what train I’m on
They won’t know what route I’ve gone.
It was a poignant moment for me, the more so because this is a festival I had been attending since I was his age and younger. With his grandma singing with us, three generations of our family joined together in that workshop.
What we are doing is, in a sense, not that different from what many families do. Every family has its own traditions. It could be a certain kind of cooking, art, sports or politics. We pass them down not through insisting on lessons, or through a system of careful education, but by doing things together, enjoying being together while we are doing them, and taking delight in seeing someone new learn a piece of what we love.
The rest of the weekend, my son ran around with the other kids, playing games, but with music all around, under every tree and in every corner – just like his father and his uncle used to do when we were his age. With all the excitement of the game, I wondered if he’d forgotten all about the singing, but he asked me that night to read him Elizabeth’s Song, a wonderful children’s book by Michael Wenberg about how Elizabeth Cotten wrote “Freight Train” when she was a little girl. He listened intently, eyes wide. The book ends with the song, and I sang it to him quietly, huddled with him in the cabin’s upper bunk. He smiled and listened, his eyes growing smaller, until, at the very end of the song, he fell fast asleep.
It was a moment I will treasure for the rest of my life.
Dan, I really enjoyed watching your son and the other kids last weekend. I’m sorry I didn’t make it to that workshop, and I hope someone caught some of it on video.
One of the many reasons why I love folk music so much is how it keeps me connected to my father’s side of the family. When I sing, it reminds me of when I was small and my grandfather used to sing to me, and also of my cousins learning songs that they they thought he would like and singing them to him so he could learn them.
Dan, this is so wonderful it brings tears to my eyes. Your lucky little boy!
I’m also sorry to have missed him singing, but I was fortunate to hear Elizabeth Cotton sing it ‘live’ at the WFF in 1977! Mike Seeger brought her…. and maybe soon I will get to hear your son.
He was great! Carried the tune and didn’t freak out when the audience sang different words. Wonderful workshop-loved your mom there too.
I love that he sings it the way Libba Cotten did. There are little turns of phrase and rhythmical irregularities that she did, and those of us who are used to the way it usually gets sung tend not to remember them.
When people ask me why last weekend’s gathering ( and similar weekends) have been a top priority in my life, and why I still volunteer to help make it happen, I think of moments like watching your family singing together, and I can only smile (quite possibly with tears, as well.) The emotional power of sharing in a joyous creative activity like singing can be awe-inspiring, and addictive. Sharing that with those you love can be…..well, you already know, Dan.