Christmas Caroling: a Bridge over language Barriers

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Singing is in my DNA; my mother said that when I was born I didn’t howl in the traditional, time-honored manner: she insists that my first breath came while singing a Renata Tebaldi-ish high ‘C’. From that moment on, music has always been an important part of my life, but never more so than at Christmas.

Christmas caroling became a family tradition the year I was in the third grade. We started out with my parents, my four siblings and me, each contributing to the best of our ability. The attempt had such a great success that the tradition continued through the years, the choir growing as we added family members and then school friends.

Christmas caroling continued even after I married, both in Bologna and Mistretta. Every year in Bologna, between 1979 and 1983, our group was invited to sing in front of the giant Christmas tree in Piazza Nettuno (Neptune Square), and although caroling is not a common happenstance in Italy, our efforts were enjoyed by our listeners as much as we enjoyed singing. Then, we would go listen to Midnight Mass concerts which included Handel’s Messiah, Gregorian Chants and various others.

However, one of my favorite memories of Italian Christmas caroling took place in Mistretta, a tiny town nestled in the Sicilian Nebrodi mountain chain. One year, shortly after our arrival in the town, the head priest asked our church choir if we wanted to sing during the Midnight Mass that year. After conferring with the other church members we decided to sing a beautiful little song called “Stars Were Gleaming” taken from the children’s hymnal.

Finally, 11:00 pm, December 24^th arrived. The children had napped and, after hours of practice, we were ready to face a public of over 3,000 people. After dressing ourselves in our warmest clothing, we set off toward the church. We had left a little early because it had started to snow earlier and we needed to proceed slowly– everything in Mistretta is downhill, even when it was uphill – in order to avoid a nasty fall on the slippery cobblestone road. We also wanted to get there before the rest of the city showed up: seats were at a premium and we wanted to sit close to the front so we could be ready to sing when called.

At 11:55, we looked around and found ourselves surrounded by a huge crowd. Anticipation was high as the head priest, Padre Michele walked in with another priest we had never seen before, and the excitement was tangible. The little children, dressed in their costumes for the Christmas story, stopped fidgeting and turned their eyes toward Padre Michele as he stepped toward the microphone. The tingling in our fingers was not entirely a product of the freezing cold…

The minutes ticked on as we sat waiting anxiously for our turn to sing. A new priest had just arrived that day; he led the children around the chapel from “inn to inn” and ending at the manger scene at the entrance of the building. Once “Mary and Joseph” were settled in their places in the manger, Padre Michele announced that “our Mormon brothers and sisters will now sing for us”. Our moment had arrived. We stood up, knees shaking, and turned to face the congregation.

Voices quavering (was it the cold?) we began “Stars were gleaming, shepherds dreaming; and the night was dark and chill…” Our voices gained strength as we continued, “Onward going, gleaming, glowing, leading still, our Christmas star!” As we turned back towards our seats, we were surprised to hear another voice singing the same song, in another language; turning back once again, we listened, mesmerized as the new priest sang our carol with gusto.

After the mass, our group went and spoke with the new priest. We learned that he had arrived in Italy only days before from Poland, and that the carol we had sung that night was a Polish carol. He thanked us for singing that particular hymn and making him feel at home in a foreign land. And from that time, thanks to Christmas caroling, Padre Tomasz was our friend.

 

© Mary Purpari December 25, 2014 All Rights reserved

“T” is for “These are a Few of My Favorite Things.

There are a myriad of things that I consider my favorites, but I would like to talk about a few that start with the letter ‘T’.

First, time. Time is always of the essence and sometimes I think I never have enough, and yet, it also seems to crawl. When I’m trying to work, it seems that time seems to fly; and yet, something that happened just four months ago seems to have happened a hundred years ago. I guess that time is not only of the essence, but is also relative.

Another favorite ‘t’ is trees. I love trees. as a child, when I wasn’t busy running around like a wild horse, I was climbing trees. Trees can bring me out of the deepest funk. Trees are homes to lots of wonderful creatures that are also among my favorite things, but most don’t start with ‘t’ so I’ll consider them another time. I love the many shades of green found in trees, and the coolness they provide in summer. I love watching their branches dance in the wind and the sound of the ocean they make. When I lived in Mistretta, my favorite place to be was in the woods, in the coolness of the pine trees. I always felt so close to God near those trees, with their branches uplifted in prayer.

Taste buds. I know, it sounds weird, but how could I know the wonderful taste of chocolate or pistachio nuts, peanut butter or strawberries without taste buds? I am so glad I have taste buds to enrich my life.

Traveling is another of my favorite things. I used to love flying before terrorists had to ruin it for everyone. Now, my favorite choice would be ‘t’rains or the bus. I have crossed the United States several times with the bus – stopping whenever I want to and seeing whatever I want. I’ve traveled to Europe, to Mexico and Canada. I’ve met new people, tested my languages and seen cultures so different from my own.

I cannot forget true friends. True friends are what have made me life livable during the last few months; without them, I don’t know what I would have done or if I would have even tried. My true friends have listened as I’ve talked on and on; they’ve loaned me their shoulders when I cry; they’ve helped me know it wasn’t my fault; they’ve made me laugh (a great deed, indeed); they’ve bucked me up when I was down, even when their hearts were breaking, too. They’ve encouraged me when I was ready to give up. I love you guys.

And now, since time is of the essence, and space is short, I’ll mention one more favorite (at least in theory) thing; it’s a combination of the first and last favorites mentioned: time travel. It’s probably the only part of quantum physics that I partially understand, but it is something I would find fascinating. My blog would be full of my experiences as I traveled through time to carry on a conversation with Marcus Tullius Cicero. Or to take art classes from Michelangelo Buonarotti. And how about the idea of Knights in Shining Armor jousting and fighting for my honor. I could go and watch as the pyramids were being built. Or, I could go back just a few months and… never mind.

I have so many favorite things that start with ‘t’, and these are just a few, but perhaps the best one right now is being plumb tuckered out, so tuckered out I sleep the night through.

Do you have some favorite things that begin with ‘T’? Would you like to share?

© Copyright Mary Purpari April 22, 2014 “T” is for These are a Few of My Favorite Things

 

“F” is for Facebook Friends and Family: a Modernized Parable

This is a modernized retelling of the parable of the good Samaritan. Note that I wanted to use person instead of man, but it was so repetitive as to be spammy.

Once upon a time (not too long ago) there was a man who had a huge, wonderful family and many, many friends, whom he knew personally and loved. One day, the man found Facebook, and discovered that he could keep close contact with his family and friends, which filled the man’s heart with with joy; he lived in a city far from all of them and in this manner, he was updated daily on their comings and goings. Soon, he began to add new friends to his friends list – friends he had never met but who seemed to be supportive and affectionate – and he began looking forward to reading their posts and their comments on his posts.

One day, the most unexpected tragedy overcame him: his beloved companion came down with pneumonia, and after much suffering, died. The man was disconsolate, his heart broken by the sudden loss of his dearest friend; upon hearing the tragic news, his family and friends, both actual as well as virtual, sent their condolences and love, support and commiseration, for his companion was also well-loved by many of the same people.

However, the support of one family member was particularly notable for its lack. In fact, when the man’s Facebook friends and family began to give compliments to the man for his strength and courage, the family member lashed out at the man, criticizing him for considering the words of his Facebook family more important than his real family (not realizing that many of the people giving comfort and advice were actual family members).  And behold, this lack of understanding served only to deepen the man’s sadness and depression.

And then, as the man sank deeper in grieving for his loss, a wondrous thing took place. Because of the death of this man’s companion, he was left with grievous financial difficulties and was even faced with the possibility of having to leave the home the two of them had shared for all the time they were together, the place where there were so many happy memories. But, behold: those very people, the “despised” virtual family and friends, silently got together and took up a collection and gave a goodly sum to the man so that he would be able to stay a little longer in the home where the two of them had been so happy.

And now, I ask of you, who was indeed this man’s family?

© 2014 Mary Purpari