The Bird of Paradise and Other Things that Bring Me Joy

Sometimes the strangest things float through my mind. From deep in the buried depths of my mind comes a bit of treasure that brings a smile and a walk down Memory Lane. In this case, it also brought a melody.

I don’t have a clue what unearthed this little gem. All I know is one day last week the children and I were chattering as we do sometimes, and one of the children asked, “Do you know what I like?”

Our of nowhere, I answered, “When the bird of paradise flies up your nose?”

What I would give for a picture of their faces at that moment! “The bird of what?!”

“The bird of paradise. It flies up your nose. I don’t know why. I don’t know what it does there. Maybe it just acts snotty.” I managed to reply with a straight face.

As two children stared at me wondering whether to be shocked by the idea of a bird up their nose or disgusted by the snotty comment, I wondered, too, “Where did that come from?”

Well, it comes from a song by Neal Merritt. While other artists did the song, I recall it being done by Little Jimmy Dickens. It was recorded in 1965, before I was born. However, my father was a fan of classic country music, and I heard that song into my teens I think. However, it has never given me more joy than now, and I cannot even tell you why.

The chorus is superbly nonsensical:
May the bird of paradise fly up your nose.
May an elephant caress you with its toes.
May your wife be plagued by runner in her hose.
May the bird of paradise fly up your nose.

You can Google to fine the rest. It’s a clean song, and 99% of people won’t care, but for me, it is a good bit of happy. Know what I mean?

Know what else makes me happy? My father-in-law.

My father-in-law loves classic country as much as my dad, and periodically, Pop and I get time to talk, one of the good talks that last an hour or so. Inevitably, we get to chatting about the auctions he’s been to lately, and he tells me about the latest records he’s found. I love this more than I can tell you.

I love it because he takes time to tell me. Not many people I know can have a good conversation about George Jones, Hank Williams, Earnest Tubbs, and the like, and I like that we can talk.

I also love it because it reminds me of my dad. The last time Pop and I talked, he mentioned a record he’d found my George Jones, and I remember one my dad had that sounds like the same record. Pop and I talked about favorite singers and the songs they sang. We had a great time. At least I did, and I think he did.

Funny how things like that can make your heart tender and still make you so happy, isn’t it?

And isn’t it funny how a bird of paradise can tickle one’s nose just right to make for laughter and silliness decades after its last known sighting? And isn’t it wonderful how God puts people in our lives that share those special interests that fill a hole with joy that would otherwise be a place of pain?

May God always bless you with a bird of paradise and your very own special “Pop” to bring you joy…

(Pop, thank you. You are a joy. Love, Jerri)