A song, like a painting, has its patina. Take, for example, Art Ganfunkel's rendition of BRIDGE OVER TROUBLED WATER. I listened to it as one of Simon and Garfunkel's songs they sang in THE CONCERT IN THE (CENTRAL) PARK in1981, some 39 tears ago. The song was beautiful when Garfunkel first sang it in the early 1970s. It was even more evocative when he sang it in Central Park in 1981. But today, 19 August 2020, when I listened to him sing it in the YouTube video, I realized I was listening to the song that would go down in musical history as 20th century's equivalent of Van Gogh's THE POTATO EATERS of the 19th century. The song was august. It had attained an enequaled patina for songs sung in the previous century. But songs and paintings aren't the only creations that attain a patina. People do, not just famous people, but all people. Each of us has a life to live, and how we live it will determine our patina. Will our patina be one of love or hate, joy or sorrow, generosity or parsimoniousness? We are our own singers, are own artists, are own makers of the lives we live. Our patinas, in the end, will be how we are remembered.

Copyright 2020 Tod Howard Hawks