Recently someone - with whom I share a love for operetta - called my attention to the internet phenomenon, youtube.
I discovered that I can find songs that I have not heard for decades. It woke up in my soul something that I never knew I had or missed: My youth and long-past childhood.
Don't get me wrong, I came to Canada, I married a Canadian girl, I produced Canadian children but have I ever forgotten my roots? No! In 2007 I visited my old classmates for a 50th anniversary of our high school graduation. In a long evening, after dinner and lots of conversations, we started to sing songs, which I had thought I'd long forgotten. I spoke with my old classmates with a heavily accented, broken version of my Mother tongue, due to the fact that, being married to a Canadian girl, I was out of practice, but when it came to the songs, I was right there with my old pals, who never left the confines of the old country. I think that language may be in the brain, but songs are in the heart.
Where am I going with this? Have you ever longed for the dreams of your childhood? Have you ever yearned? Have you ever left your roots and settle elsewhere and then unexpectedly, you realized what you have been missing? The feeling does not have to bridge cultures and languages, it may be felt just by admitting that you are too far from where you were before.
I found that in my absence from the old country, there have been artists I never heard of, who made their way on the international scene. Stars of opera and operetta that lead the world, or at least share the lead, and I have been blissfully unaware of their presence. I found on youtube songs of my childhood that when I listen to them bring tears to my eyes.
Sure, laugh at me! I am the crusty old 'racist' conservative, who is incapable of any sensitivity and soft emotions.
Next summer I will be going back again, this time, accompanied by my daughter, the mother of my grandkids, who will probably know more about their granddad's roots than my daughter ever learned about the roots of her father.
For those who might remember my opposition to government-supported multiculturalism, this is my contribution to the Canadian mosaic. In addition to, of course, the fact that I don't blame the government for my failings and never asked or accepted government assistance to promote the culture of my childhood.
So, lay it on me!
I discovered that I can find songs that I have not heard for decades. It woke up in my soul something that I never knew I had or missed: My youth and long-past childhood.
Don't get me wrong, I came to Canada, I married a Canadian girl, I produced Canadian children but have I ever forgotten my roots? No! In 2007 I visited my old classmates for a 50th anniversary of our high school graduation. In a long evening, after dinner and lots of conversations, we started to sing songs, which I had thought I'd long forgotten. I spoke with my old classmates with a heavily accented, broken version of my Mother tongue, due to the fact that, being married to a Canadian girl, I was out of practice, but when it came to the songs, I was right there with my old pals, who never left the confines of the old country. I think that language may be in the brain, but songs are in the heart.
Where am I going with this? Have you ever longed for the dreams of your childhood? Have you ever yearned? Have you ever left your roots and settle elsewhere and then unexpectedly, you realized what you have been missing? The feeling does not have to bridge cultures and languages, it may be felt just by admitting that you are too far from where you were before.
I found that in my absence from the old country, there have been artists I never heard of, who made their way on the international scene. Stars of opera and operetta that lead the world, or at least share the lead, and I have been blissfully unaware of their presence. I found on youtube songs of my childhood that when I listen to them bring tears to my eyes.
Sure, laugh at me! I am the crusty old 'racist' conservative, who is incapable of any sensitivity and soft emotions.
Next summer I will be going back again, this time, accompanied by my daughter, the mother of my grandkids, who will probably know more about their granddad's roots than my daughter ever learned about the roots of her father.
For those who might remember my opposition to government-supported multiculturalism, this is my contribution to the Canadian mosaic. In addition to, of course, the fact that I don't blame the government for my failings and never asked or accepted government assistance to promote the culture of my childhood.
So, lay it on me!
