Our Ramblin’ Rose

If you’re a Baby Boomer or a young lover of the 20th century American songbook, chances are you’ll remember the Nat King Cole standard, “Ramblin’ Rose.” It’s a song listed among the late singer’s hits from the 1950s and ‘60s. The lyrics refer to a type of beautiful, elusive blossom that thrives freely –growing and going where it will, sharing its lovely gift with everyone—a literal rambling rose.

These days it’s not the song, “Ramblin’ Rose, that Nat King Cole is best known for, but rather his posthumous duet with daughter Natalie Cole on “Unforgettable.” What an apt name for a melody they shared, because they were just that – unforgettable. But it’s “Ramblin’ Rose” that’s my favorite.

I learned of the Cole family’s talents early in life. Among my parents’ LP collection was a Nat King Cole album of greats, which included “Ramblin’ Rose, among others. Although I found the tune memorable, emotional and even wistful, it’s the song’s name that struck a proverbial chord with me. You see, my big sister’s name is Rose Lane. That song always makes me think of her.

November makes me think of my sister too, with her birthday on Veterans Day, November 11th. Big sisters (especially “good little first children,” as Rose Lane has jokingly described herself from time to time) have a way of setting the example for their younger siblings –setting the bar high in school, extra-curricular activities, leadership, you name it. Mine did all that, for sure, And as her birthday approaches, I’ve been thinking about one of her gifts that’s had the greatest impact on my life — and on the lives of so many others who’ve had the privilege of knowing her: her musical talent.

That’s right. Like the original by Nat King Cole, our Ramblin’ Rose brings music into our lives.

Studying piano throughout elementary school, junior high and high school, Rose Lane developed her God-given ear and tactile precision for the keyboard, favoring Chopin, Haydn, and Grieg — and infusing her versions of their work with a haunting sensitivity and beauty. But her playing wasn’t limited to what I thought of then as “serious music.” The chart-topping rhythm and blues hit “Kansas City” became one of her specialties on the piano, as well as others that carried a soft rock & roll vibe.

Different musical forms came to the forefront for my sister and our whole family as the years passed. For a while, it was pretty much anything to do with LSU football — especially the pre-game version of “Hold That Tiger!” played memorably and loudly by none other than the Golden Band from Tiger Land. (Did I mention we’re a dyed-in-the-wool LSU family?) Equally important was the rich musical landscape of New Orleans — particularly the sounds emanating from the French Quarter’s Preservation Hall, with Rose Lane’s all-time favorite: “Do You Know What it Means to Miss New Orleans?”

When I became a teenager, Rose Lane, I am sure, was instrumental in helping our parents tolerate my affinity for The Rolling Stones, often cranked up full volume on our stereo system well after “lights out.” While our individual tastes overlapped and then diverged from time to time, music was an area where we could relate — sometimes just by listening and enjoying it together. That became especially apparent when the big sister I always thought would live close by moved away for a brand-new adventure, taking her gifts — and her music — with her.

Historic Richmond, Virginia became her new home, and I’m convinced that “The Rose” and her family helped indoctrinate a whole segment of Richmond to the impact of South Louisiana’s musical culture after they moved there decades ago. Looking back, it seems to me that music became a kind of shared language during their transition to a completely different part of the country. Differences in vocal accents and cadences aside, music remained a constant in worship services, social gatherings, Richmond symphonies, Rose Lane’s piano accompaniments for civic organizations, and – most meaningfully — for RL privately in her own living room, where she continued to express herself through notes, chords, and harmonies.

When our grandmother — Granny whom she called Bitsy — passed away, we were not together as a family. I recall it well because it had snowed in Baton Rouge that day — a truly rare occurrence in this part of the world. Rose Lane and I didn’t have a chance to talk until a day or so after Bitsy’s passing, but I remember clearly her telling me that when she got the news, she went to the piano and she played for her—a last, and in my view, best gift ever. I’m absolutely certain that Bits heard Rose Lane’s music as she made her way to the Pearly Gates. Music is funny like that. It moves. It too, can ramble freely and beautifully. All our hearts are listening, Ramblin’ Rose.