The Water is Wide
In Chapter 16 of The Last Mixtape, “Kelly’s Birthday,” James drives alone to Long Beach Island on March 12th with one song on repeat: Karla Bonoff’s version of “The Water Is Wide.” He rewinds it again and again, letting the song wash over him like the tide. Once on the deserted beach, water becomes both metaphor and sanctuary: Kelly’s ashes were scattered into a stream that ultimately feeds the ocean, and James half-believes that wherever there is water, his sister is present.
“The Water Is Wide” significantly predates James and the era of cassette tapes. The melody traces back to 17th-century Scotland, often associated with the ballad “O Waly, Waly,” a folk song about love stretched thin by distance. Its lyrics are simple but quietly devastating: “The water is wide, I cannot cross o’er, and neither have I wings to fly.” And then later in the song: “Give me a boat that can carry two, and both shall row, my love and I.” The backing chords are wistful, but somehow the lyrics are simultaneously mournful and hopeful.
Personally, I listened to that song constantly after my sister died, especially if there was a body of water nearby. Along the Delaware River, on a boat in Lake George, staring at swath of the Atlantic, the melancholy of it didn’t deepen the darkness; somehow it steadied it. The song never answered any questions about death, but it softened the edges and gave me space to exhale.
Just recently, the song resurfaced in a place I never could have predicted: my son Ryan’s senior concerto. David Maslanka’s UFO Dreams: Concerto for Euphonium and Wind Ensemble weaves the melody of “The Water Is Wide” throughout the piece. Earlier this month, Ryan performed the Maslanka piece backed by his high school concert band.
There’s a portion of the concerto where the old Scottish refrain is backed by the entire ensemble. As the song crescendoed, it lifted my emotions and connected my past to my present. I thought about my sister and I thought about my son. Whether he knew it or not, his euphonium solo was a loving and thoughtful tribute to an aunt he never knew.
Whenever I think about one of the songs on the last mixtape (the object, not the novel), I’m convinced I’ve finally identified the quintessential one. But each song held a different shade of memory, a different angle of grief or love, and the relevance shifts depending on where I am. That being said, “The Water Is Wide” is an absolutely essential addition to the mix.
