Row Your Boat is the Secret to Life
An excerpt from my Vegas ghost novel, The House Always Wins, in which our heroine discusses the meaning of life with her gangster spirit. Based on something my dad told me when I was a little boy.
“It’s that little kids’ song. Row your boat,” Meyer said.
I sat all the way back and sunk into the cushion, defeated.
“You’re kidding.”
“Never kid a kidder. How’s it start?
“Row, row, row your boat,” I offered.
“Right. Notice it says ‘row your boat.’ Not someone else’s. You gotta be responsible for yourself, make your own way in this world. Your world.”
Meyer was drawing me in despite myself. Maybe this wasn’t a complete waste of time after all.
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He continued, “If I remember correctly, and who knows these days, it says, ‘gently down the stream.’”
“Uh-huh.”
“So you don’t row hard, you row easy. And you don’t fight the current; you go with the flow, as the hippies used to say.”
Not bad. I could envision collaborating with Meyer on a children’s book.
He sang the next verse in a croaky, off-key voice. “‘Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily.’ You’re here. You didn’t ask to be here but you’re here. So you might as well make the best of it.”
I had to admit he had a point.
“Sing the last verse with me. It’s my favorite,” Meyer said.
Together we sort of harmonized, “Life is but a dreeeeeem,” finishing with a ragged flourish before dissolving into laughter. The White Stripes we weren’t.
“It is, you know. A dream,” he said finally. “Or a nightmare.” His expression going from pleased to gloomy in a heartbeat. “It’s up to us.”
“That’s really profound,” I said, reaching to pat his hand. Instinctively, he pulled away.
“I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”
