What A Wonderful World

Night and day the dark claims to be sacred and the bright doesn’t always feel so blessed.

Every night when the girls go to bed, they each have their own song that we play on our phones to see them off to sleep.

Magnolia’s is, fittingly, “Magnolia” by Ellie Holcomb. The Holcomb family has probably gotten a month or two worth of groceries up in East Nashville because of how many times we’ve listened to that song in the last four years.¹ Daisy’s has, mostly, been Andrew Peterson’s “Be Kind To Yourself” because it’s the perfect message for a little girl to hear every night as she grows up.

But this past weekend, Daisy was having a bit of a hard time one afternoon and I decided we’d find a playlist of songs for babies on Spotify someplace and just listen and sing together to get her to calm down. I came across a handful of playlists made by various Spotify users and ended up making a playlist of my own for her with selections from those.

The playlist has a bunch of the usual suspects—”Itsy Bitsy Spider,” “Row Row Row", etc.—but one song in particular made its way to the playlist that I found myself playing on repeat for the better part of a half an hour. But first, a story.

The Signing Librarian

Every year I spent at Croninger Elementary School, from first through fifth grade, I spent some time each week in the school library with Mrs. Stuckey. You probably don’t remember your time in your elementary school library or what you did there other than check out books and maybe goof around on the computers. But I remember my time in my elementary school library for a reason that has nothing to do with books.

Every year, in the reading circle area, in front of the latest Magic Treehouse books on the back wall and the collection of Mr. Men books on the left-most bookshelf, Mrs. Stuckey would sit the visiting classes down and teach them how to sign Louis Armstrong’s “What A Wonderful World.”

I promise you that, right now, I could probably still sign 80% of the song today, as could most Croninger Crusaders who had the privilege of sitting at the feet of Mrs. Stuckey all those years ago.

Learning how to sign that song was such a universal rite of passage among the students that the song had a sort of meme, inside-joke status among some of us. I remember randomly signing parts of the song silently across classrooms to classmates who would sign the next part back, snickering as we waited for other students to finish reading or taking a test.

I have to admit, I haven’t sought out any version of “What A Wonderful World”…ever, really. Of course I hear it from time-to-time on a commercial or in a grocery store or something like that. But I’ve never looked it up on YouTube or Spotify or anything. Until this weekend when it popped up on the playlist of songs I was singing to try to calm my baby.

A Song Worthy of the World

The first version of the song I came across this weekend is by the musical artist Raffi, an Armenian-Canadian singer and author, best known for his renditions of children’s songs. I had never heard any of Raffi’s music before, but have since come to love his versions of many children’s songs—”Baby Beluga” may be my favorite of his.

I dunno how much you think about this song, so here are the lyrics if you’re somehow unfamiliar. Good luck trying to read them without singing them in your head or out loud:

I see trees of green
Red roses too
I see them bloom
For me and you
And I think to myself
What a wonderful world

I see skies of blue
And clouds of white
The bright blessed day
The dark sacred night
And I think to myself
What a wonderful world

The colors of the rainbow
So pretty in the sky
Are also on the faces
Of people going by
I see friends shaking hands
Saying, "How do you do?"
They're really saying
I love you

I hear babies cry
I watch them grow
They'll learn much more
Than I'll ever know
And I think to myself
What a wonderful world
Yes, I think to myself
What a wonderful world
Ooh, yes

Told you you’d sing along.

Anyway, this weekend after listening to Raffi’s version about seven times, I just decided to look up every version I could find while I was dancing with Daisy around the living room. We listened to Willie Nelson’s, Israel Kamakawiwo'ole’s, John Legend’s, Jon Batiste’s, and a few others.

Of course Armstrong’s original version is probably safely the objective “best” version. I have always loved it because you can’t help but see him smiling as he sings. You can hear his smile through your headphones.

All the other great musicians do a fine job covering the song, but most of them just cover the song in whatever way they see fit. In contrast, when you listen to Armstrong sing the song, his meter and manner of singing makes each stanza of words carry a certain weight. It’s like you’re watching the world pass by, sitting on the porch with him as he observes it and sings about it.

But this weekend, even as I re-listened to Armstrong’s original, no version hit me quite like Raffi’s version did. And that’s because Raffi’s version is for small children and their parents. It feels like a children’s song.

Dancing with Daisy around our living room, as she whimpered in step with the colors of the rainbow and the people going by, radically changed how I experience this song.

A World Worthy of the Song

Every time Daisy and I got to this part of the song last Sunday, I cried:

They're really saying
I love you

I hear babies cry
I watch them grow
They'll learn much more
Than I'll ever know
And I think to myself
What a wonderful world
Yes, I think to myself
What a wonderful world
Ooh, yes

When I would sing, “I, love, you,” in that broken, staggered way as many do, Daisy would stop fussing and just stick out her bottom lip, even if just for a moment. And then I would take my turn, crying as I sang about my babies, thinking of watching them grow, and of course learning more than I’ll ever know.

At first, I started singing to Daisy to try to calm her down—a desperate attempt at peace and quiet on the part of a tired dad. But after a few times through the song, I found myself singing to convince myself of the wonder of the world, even as I consider how to best introduce her to it.

It’s hard to sing about how wonderful the world is today, at least if you live in it. One wonders if the world is worthy of the song.

The drumbeat of woes threatens to drown out the whispers of wonder. That which is wonderful often minds its own business, waiting to be discovered amid a torrent of tragedy and tears. But it is there! The world is wonderful, Daisy Jo! What a wonderful world, even if its shadows threaten to suffocate it.

Night and day the dark claims to be sacred and the bright doesn’t always feel so blessed.

And yet, in the quiet, the wonder is there. May we have the ears to hear its whispers through screeching of suffering.

1. Ellie, if you happen to read this and you’ve wondered why that song has above-average plays since 2020—*raises hand*.