When I Grow Too Old To Dream
The impossible satisfaction of dreaming together.
I have a million songs in my head at any time. It’s my own personal streaming service: songs for upcoming concerts, auditions, this series, student repertoire all fight for attention in late-80’s CD changer of my mind. This leads to problems when it’s time to sleep. All I want is a little peace at bedtime, but my brain cues a tune as soon as my eyes drift closed.
“When I Grow Too Old To Dream,” the Sigmund Romberg-Oscar Hammerstein standard, keeps popping up on this inner playlist. It was the title that spoke to me, or really, didn’t. (Too old? Never!) Turns out everyone and their mother has recorded it—everyone from Vera Lynn to Nat King Cole to The Everly Brothers—but somehow, I’d never heard it—if you’re unfamiliar, it’s lovely; simple, honest, peaceful. A right-on-time tune.
Amidst the turmoil of our world, I thought this song would be a peaceful addition to my Dining Room Tunes series—so named because, where my dining room should be, there’s a piano instead. I try to sing and play there every day, like regular meals. With my worry level high and restful nights in short supply, I hoped this song would bring some comfort. “When I Grow Too Old to Dream,” however, quickly turned into “When I Grow Too Old to Sleep.”
A Confoundingly Simple Lyric
The song (with correct lyrics intact) was written in 1934, with lyrics by Oscar Hammerstein II and music by Sigmund Romberg, a composer who came to this country from Vienna looking for a better life, back when that was still ok. He brought his love of Viennese operetta with him. These pre-Broadway musicals with a classical bent gave singers ample opportunity for vocal virtuosity but also engaged audiences with light, way fizzier-than-Faust stories.
A notable thing about Romberg’s works: though his songs sound show-off-y because singers could throw their voices around to their heart’s content, when you strip away the roulades and high notes, the tunes themselves are really quite straightforward: memorable once heard, and gracefully easy to enjoy. It was said that Romberg’s short, rather pudgy fingers were the reason - he wrote what sat well in his own hands. And this one only covers one octave - those 8 notes that make do-re-mi, the major scale. Unadorned and unassuming.
After a few major hits (the man wrote 55 shows!) including Desert Song (1926) and The New Moon (1928) with Hammerstein, the pair found themselves contracted to write for a now-little-known movie musical called The Night is Young. Here’s a clip of the OG tune and how it played into the story. (I love her fluffy dress!)
Here’s Hammerstein’s economic lyric, perfectly crafted to match the simple tune:
When I grow too old to dream
I’ll have you to remember
When I grow too old to dream
Your love will live in my heart
So kiss me my sweet
And so let us part
And when I grow too old to dream
That kiss will live in my heart
It’s deeply moving–inspiring, even–though it’s hard to pinpoint exactly why. Oscar Hammerstein’s collaborations with Richard Rodgers often fall into the “mankind is my business” category, addressing social issues without hesitation—South Pacific, Carousel, The King and I, and of course The Sound of Music all contain songs of this nature and his personal letters reflect a deep devotion to peace in our time. Stephen Sondheim, both his protégé and a keen critic, called his lyrics sentimental, but also acknowledged their monumentality, as insightfully shared by in Todd S. Purdum’s terrific book Something Wonderful. I love that description–sentimental but monumental–it’s what makes us believe we can climb every mountain, and know that we’ll never walk alone.
This particular lyric, though, is perhaps the precursor to his later brilliance: this more ephemeral, less specific song finds its beauty, and its power, in the space it makes in the listener. It’s almost confounding in its simplicity.
Hammerstein himself couldn’t quite articulate it either:
“I had a terrific tussle with this song. The first or second day I was working on it, the music suggested the title, "When I Grow Too Old to Dream." …The music was born for it. The next line came very naturally. I sang to myself: "When I grow too old to dream, I'll have you to remember."…Then I stopped suddenly. What did it mean? "When I grow too old to dream" - when are you too old to dream? Too old for what kind of dreams? As a matter of fact, when you are old, aren't you likely to dream more than at any other time in your life? Don't you look back and dream about the past? How did this silly line ever come into my head?”
Ah, the dreaded CD-changer! But he kept coming back to it:
“I am sure that the music has a great deal to do with the acceptance of these words. Hearing the melody with them, the listener is mesmerized and lulled emotionally. The words, instead of being literal, are like music superimposed on music. The lyric and the melody swing together in a happy union, and the pleasure they find in each other infects the singer and the listener with a kind of irresponsible satisfaction.“
Count Your Blessings
They say gratitude is an antidote for worry. And in the midst of my worries—my fears and what-if’s and frustrations—an old favorite stealthed its way into my deep-brain rotation. It’s a song that often keeps me company at night when my mind is busiest with its music, and when I’m most, um, worried and can’t sleep. My first mashup was born, and it was a no-brainer:
My piano playing is still…my piano playing. I mean, it definitely improved after my stint as a musical director, but barely. (Apparently, Hammerstein wasn’t so hot at the keys either, so...) That lovely figure at the beginning was inspired by this gorgeous version. The microphone setup still gives me trouble–a bit of editing in post helped with balance, and I threw a little reverb on to make it easier on the earbuds. It’s not perfect, it never will be, and this was take #10,432, so I went with it. (As I am constantly reminding my students, perfect is the enemy of the good. Physician, heal thyself.)
Pretty sure that’s not what I played. But yay music school!
They’re not very imposing, these little building blocks of music, on their own, are they? But start putting them together, and you create worlds.
Here, five of those building blocks in a step-wise rising pattern form the main melody, then the same intervals repeat a little higher (that’s called a sequence). The very highest note is reserved for the word “old” —a solid victory for maturity—but also a solid victory for what is possible when we dream.
One can dream, and one should.
Lately though, if I’m honest, I have felt a little “too old to dream,” too tired, too scared, too sad—and I don’t think I’m alone in this. When we lose—or deny—our ability to dream, for ourselves and for others, we lose a piece of our humanity. In its place, there is a great void where compassion and empathy should be. Dreaming can feel dangerous, and too often, I find solace in my worries.
But to worry is also to care–deeply–about others and the world. Just as music is not made in a vacuum, neither do we dream alone. Both are meant to be shared. That, I think, is what Hammerstein left space for in his lyric: “your love will live in my heart." It’s what Romberg gave us, too: hope in a simple ascending scale.
Doing–living–is also an antidote to worry: following your dreams, even when it’s hard, offers a peacefulness, an “impossible satisfaction.” And the joy we get from our small dreams gives us the courage for the big ones: equality, agency, generosity - all the things we want for each other.
So dream, and dream loudly - loud enough for all of us to hear. I plan to.
See you at the table again soon.
Post Script(s)
About The Dining Room Tunes
WHAT I publish on both here on my website and on Substack in hopes of connecting with more of you from the wider world.
WHY They started as a way to flourish in the midst of grief. My dad had died and I had so much trouble making music (you can read all about it on previous posts; I won’t apologize for grief, and neither should you. It works the way it works). The Tunes are also for my students; I want them to see me put myself out there, to set a goal for myself and follow through. It’s my way of remaining a student with them. The Tunes have become a way for me to grapple with my singing: listening to and watching my singing is wildly instructive, not always pleasant but sometimes fun and absolutely vital. I’ve only published a couple in their entirety. The decent bits from unpublished options are in various reels on my social media and they will make their way into full-fledged beauties some day soon.
YOU Have a song you’d like to hear? Let me know in the comments, ⬇️ or DM me on socials. No one dreams in a vacuum!
Ways To Help Others Dream:
Here in DC
For the grieving: Loss brings need in its wake.
For the first responders: Food On The Stove supports health and wellness among those in the DC fire service. I drive by every day; they are there, still.
For the artists: The arts community here in DC has big dreams: it’s a deep community of talented, committed humans. The routing of the Kennedy Center is a massive insult to our community, and bodes ill for all. I have more to say on this, but for now, please go see live performance in your town, sign your kid up for classes, stop and listen to the music.
Asheville NC
For the struggling: BeLoved Asheville; The Red Cross
For hope: Biscuits And Banjos
Los Angeles, CA
For the struggling: Wildfire Emergency Resources; The Red Cross
Generation Hope This organization is near and dear to my heart. These young people are dreaming really hard, and not just for themselves.
Thoughts and Prayers Despite all the ridicule afforded to this phrase, I do believe thoughts and prayers are important—their graciousness marks us as human. But action is imperative. Call Congress 202-224-3121 or use this app; last I heard, it’s still of, for and by the people.
References:
The book Lyrics by Oscar Hammerstein II includes “Notes On Lyrics,” an essay by Hammerstein himself (the forward is by Stephen Sondheim, natch), and he addresses “When I Grow Too Old To Dream” pretty extensively.
The Complete Lyrics of Oscar Hammerstein by Amy Asch is also excellent.
Todd Purdum’s Something Wonderful is wonderful.
And The Letters of Oscar Hammerstein II by our Library of Congress’ senior music specialist Mark Horowitz is required reading.
Further Reading:
Ted Gioia on Substack for the direction of arts and culture. And great music picks.
Please read Heather Cox Richardson, also on Substack. Direct, clear and cited.
A Christmas Carol, even though it’s not Christmas. Because mankind is always our business.
