‘S wonderful!

S’ Wonderful
is a 1927 popular song composed by George Gershwin with lyrics written by his brother Ira Gershwin. It was introduced in the Broadway musical Funny Face …

Funny Face is a 1927 musical composed by George Gershwin, with lyrics by Ira Gershwin, and book by Fred Thompson and Paul Gerard Smith. When it opened on Broadway on November 22, 1927, as the first show performed in the newly built Alvin Theatre, it starred Fred Astaire and his sister Adele Astaire. It was in this show that Astaire first danced in evening clothes and a top hat.

Life has just begun,
Jack has found his Jill
Don’t know what you’ve done
But I’m all a-thrill
How could words express
Your divine appeal?
You can never guess
All the love I feel
From now on, Lady darling, I insist
For me no other girls exist

‘S wonderful! ‘S marvelous!
(That) You should care for me!
‘S awful nice! ‘S paradise!
‘S what I love to see!

You’ve made my life so glamorous
You can’t blame me for feeling amorous
‘S wonderful! ‘S marvelous!
That you should care for me!

George Gershwin (/ˈɡɜːrʃ.wɪn/; born Jacob Gershwine; September 26, 1898 – July 11, 1937) was an American composer and pianist whose compositions spanned popular, jazz and classical genres. Among his best-known works are the orchestral compositions Rhapsody in Blue (1924) and An American in Paris (1928), the songs “Swanee” (1919) and “Fascinating Rhythm” (1924), the jazz standards “Embraceable You” (1928) and “I Got Rhythm” (1930), and the opera Porgy and Bess (1935), which included the hit “Summertime”.

It requires only a moment’s reflection to adjust to the impact of events upon global evolution. I’m guessing that Ira Gershwin had a less than favourable view of it all.

Though victory in Europe had been secured, war with Japan raged on. In March 1945, the United States firebombed Tokyo, flattening the city. Approximately one hundred thousand civilians were killed, and one million people were left homeless. Japan’s military leaders refused to surrender. U.S. President Harry S. Truman, seeking to avoid the long and costly fight he believed would follow an armed invasion of Japan, turned to a brand-new weapon: the nuclear bomb. On August 6, 1945, the United States dropped the first of these singularly destructive weapons on the Japanese city of Hiroshima, killing an estimated 80,000 people instantly, and leaving over 120,000 to deal with severe burns and radiation poisoning. When the Japanese did not immediately surrender, the United States dropped another bomb on Nagasaki three days later, killing seventy-four thousand people. On August 15, 1945, the Japanese unconditionally surrendered. World War II, the deadliest conflict in history, had come to an end.

Notwithstanding the poisonous breaches of law a more meritorious conduct of behaviour was preserved through the ostensible virtues of theatre and art. To this day we continue to hear proclamations regarding racism, nationalism, inflation and making things great again. Apparently we’ve managed to preserve a romantic outlook of life in spite of being surrounded by prosaic interpretations.

There is however only a limited measure by which one is enabled to sustain the perfect discolouration of life’s incalculable manifestations. For one thing, I rather doubt that any one of us begins with the object of distorting the truth, by changing the colour or even the tint.  More predictably – and more digestibly – we tend to alter our overall view by certain accommodation. While this invites the sometimes less than honourable character of purity, simplicity and singularity, it also identifies only those microscopic views of life which warrant achievement and buoyancy.

This afternoon marked the performance of a small but notable improvement in my life; namely, the second time in as many days I have ridden 2.19 Km on my tricycle. As you might reasonably suspect, we deliberately confined our exploration to the street (Spring Street) of flattened 3M Elevation Gain parallel to the Mississippi River which divides our Town and distinquishes its features. Indeed by confession of varying degrees of importance, everything critical about our current view of reality arises from the misty waters of the Mississippi River.