What do you give someone who has everything?  I Googled with a crinkled brow and hitched breath.  Various sponsored sites offering floral arrangements, gourmet culinary delights, and silk pillows appeared on the screen, but Google didn’t understand!  I needed something better than all that.  I needed something huge, timeless, weightless, touching, surprising, customized, and easy to pack. You see, my mother isn’t just anyone – she’s a songwriter. A lauded, celebrated, ‘You’re so vain, you probably think this song is about you’ kind of songwriter. She’s Carly Simon. And I’m her daughter, Sally Taylor – a musician in my own right, treading pathways she pioneered.

Growing up, the offspring of such an iconic figure could easily engulf one in a shadow so vast, it might seem impossible to find your own light. But here’s the thing – Mama always had an uncanny way of making space for my cacophonies amidst her own symphonies. She was an oak that made sky for a sapling, an ocean that welcomed a stream.  To me, she is more than just a mother; she is my first and final audience. Imagine, then, trying to encapsulate all my gratitude and all of those feelings into a single gift.

I wasn’t just trying to say “Thank you” in a language that transcended words either.  Life, in its unforeseeable manner, began offering a challenging score for my mother in recent years. The once unstoppable force behind the piano had to confront her own vulnerabilities – first with hip surgery followed by two knee surgeries, daunting enough,  but in 2023 she was confronted with a Parkinson’s diagnosis and a smattering of other medical and emotional misfortunes that would have drown the most resilient swimmer.  Each recovery was an unwelcome intermission.  At times I feared her bed would swallow her whole as she lost bone density and muscle mass between the sheets. 

But never make the mistake of betting against Carly Simon folks.  My mama is one of the most resilient, humorous, spirited humans on the planet.  How else could she have battled a debilitating stammer, paralyzing stagefright, and the countless trials of being a female musician in the 60s, 70s, 80s & 90s to become known as one of the greatest singer/songwriters on the planet of all time?   My mission, after witnessing her multitudinous challenges was to help strengthen her greatest asset of all: hope.  It brought into sharper focus the need for a gift that was not just profound but healing, a reminder of the inner strength and resilience that still resided within her, regardless of life’s cruel twists. Something that would lift her out of her bed and lift her spirits by making her laugh.

I needed a gift that encapsulated a lifetime of memories and laughter while being light enough to fit into a carry-on.  When Google finally got the significance of what I was asking for it presented me with exactly what I needed: Songfinch.  I knew immediately it held the key to something special.  It offered a platform to have a song tailor-made for my mama, written by a professional songwriter (other than me) in a genre of my choosing and sprinkled with personal anecdotes. I decided, after hours of listening to their sample songs and envisioning my mother’s smile, that this was the canvas I needed.

The process was simple; I provided some details of my mother’s life, the key messages I wanted to convey, and a few inside jokes (for example, how much she loves tapioca pudding and would eat it exclusively if left to her own devices) and Songfinch took it from there. The result was just what I’d been looking for, a song that not only said “thank you,” but acknowledged the hard times and acted as a reminder of what a badass she is.

The song was delivered to my inbox, and with it came a cascade of laughter and joy.  It wasn’t just a gift; it was a handcrafted echo of inside jokes, focused prayers, wishes and shared memories.  I couldn’t wait to play it for her on my next visit.

On a cold February morning, under a four-poster bed overlooking Central Park, I asked Mama if I could play her a song. 

“Sure,” she said, always up to hear something new.  I’d handwritten the lyrics on a sheet of paper which I slid into her hands and hit “play.”  I watched the first verse light up her face as she realized the song was about her.  It prompted tears, laughter, and a shared moment of reflection that replayed the history and hope of our unique bond.  When it ended, she kissed me and said:

“Play it again?”

This time we sang along.  Through Songfinch, I found a way to send my prayers, offer my condolences, and sing my thanks in somebody else’s voice to somebody else’s beat.  I found a way to make my mother laugh and that, my friends, is The Gift.