SEARCHING FOR A NATIONAL SONG

by Cynthia MacGregor


Those opposed to our Founding Fathers were afraid that this whole democracy idea might catch on...that was why they called it “Columbia, the germ of a notion.” Our Founding Fathers countered by singing it. And for a while it looked like our new nation had both a name and a national song.

But it turned out the name “Columbia” had already been taken...albeit with a slightly different spelling. And since we didn’t want all our mail being sent to South America—the express ponies had a hard time swimming the Ipanama Canal, which, as everyone knows, is filled with toothpaste—we knew we had to call it something else. The country was then renamed “Tizoff,” and we still sing to “My country, Tizoff, thee,” though with all these name changes some of the early settlers were getting very tizzed off indeed.

Meanwhile the Westward movement had begun. Men and their families loaded up the prairie schooners and set sale...buy one and get one free. Single men went too, but they too needed the comforts only women can bring, so—in an underreported chapter of our history—a cadre of Ladies of the Evening also crossed the vast plains. This gave rise to the expression “Westward Ho’.”

As for the vast plains, they were called “plains” because they were—there was nothing fancy about them. And they were called “vast” because that’s the direction in which the migration was headed—vay out vast.

As the westbound migrants got within striking distance of the Coast (three strikes and they were out), they saw the deer and the canteloupe playing on the range (and in the oven). They also saw their first prairie dogs. These happy little animals inspired a new name for our nation: A merry cur.

Well, now we had a name for our country, but we still lacked a song we could strain our vocal cords on at ballgames. Baseball had yet to be invented, of course, but we knew it was only a matter of time (and they planned to add the thyme to the batter, which is great if the batter’s name is Herb but doesn’t work well as a cake recipe). All this gave the patriots a dimmer view (but not a dimmer switch, as cars had not yet been invented either), so they sang, “Oh, booty, full of specious guys, for amblin’ raves’ soft gain.”

The first National Conventions convinced Americans that indeed we were a land full of specious guys who raved, but they didn’t want a song about that to become our national anthem. Residents of Maine began singing to star-spangled Bangor, but the rest of us were still without a national song. The Brits, on hearing us sing about star-spangled Bangor, thought we were singing about bangers and mash, that we’d grown homesick for Britain, and we wanted to be a colony again. “Come home,” they cooed. But we were already Home on the Range.

We were home, but we still didn’t have a national song.

(cont'd tomw)