By Yong Soo Heong
Certain voices never leave us. They become part of the soundtrack of our lives, stitched into memory with melodies that evoke joy, comfort, and nostalgia. Especially these two British entertainers.
For me, Petula Clark’s “Don’t Sleep in the Subway” and Dame Julie Andrews’ “My Favourite Things” are not just songs — they are my companions through time, ever since I was in primary school. They remind us of an era when music and film carried a kind of innocence, a buoyant optimism that still resonates decades later.
Now, as these two beloved icons — Petula Clark, CBE, 93, and Dame Julie, 90 — speak candidly about end-of-life matters and funeral arrangements, I find myself caught between admiration and melancholy.
It is sobering to hear such vibrant figures reflect on mortality. Yet it is also profoundly human. Their openness reminds us that even legends must eventually confront the same truths we all do.
Petula Clark, with her unmistakable verve, gave us songs that were both catchy and sophisticated. Her voice carried a brightness that could lift spirits in an instant. “Downtown” remains an anthem of escapism, urging listeners to find joy in the bustle of city life.
But it was “Don’t Sleep in the Subway” that captured my imagination as a child — its playful admonition wrapped in melody, its rhythm urging us to keep moving forward. Petula Clark’s artistry was never just about notes; it was about energy, resilience, and a zest for life.
Dame Julie, by contrast, embodied sweetness and grace. In The Sound of Music, she was the carefree novice nun who turned a household into a chorus of joy. Her crystalline voice in “My Favourite Things” still has the power to soothe anxieties, reminding us to find delight in the simplest pleasures.
Dame Julie’s career spanned Broadway, Hollywood, and beyond, but her gift was more than performance— it was presence. She radiated warmth, dignity, and a kind of maternal reassurance that made audiences feel safe, even in turbulent times.
What strikes me most about both women is how their artistry transcended entertainment. They offered us emotional anchors. Petula Clark’s vivacity and Dame Julie’s gentleness were not opposites but complements — two sides of the same coin of resilience.
They taught us that life can be both exuberant and tender, that joy and vulnerability coexist.
As they now speak of funerals and farewells, it is tempting to feel only sadness. But perhaps we should take a cue from their own legacies.
Petula Clark’s songs remind us to keep moving, to embrace vitality even in the face of uncertainty.
Dame Julie’s melodies remind us to cherish the small wonders that make life beautiful. Their reflections on mortality are not endings, but continuations of the lessons they have always taught us: to live fully, to love deeply, and to sing even when the night feels long.
In celebrating their lives, we acknowledge that their voices will never truly fade. They live on in every note, every lyric, every memory they have gifted us.
And when the day comes that they are no longer here, their music will still echo — reminding us, as it always has, that joy and grace are eternal.
WE