I want nothing more out of life than to get to know people,
to understand them on a personal and psychological level. I want to see what
their life has been like, know their values, traditions, and beliefs. I’ve been
delving into cultures so different from mine for many years and to this point,
am amateur at best. It is in the east asian cultures where my true interest
lies. I intend to learn as much as I can from school, media, and travel. I’ve
often told people that I am ashamed of what “my” people have done throughout history.
(I am of anglo-saxon descent.) and that living in Canada
As I am growing older, talking to other “white folks” and
perhaps, from reading more, I’m beginning to see that I do have my own culture
not shared by others that is unique to my family and roots. I have not explored
it but in the passing of my maternal grandmother and paternal grandfather, I
have decided to do so.
I was sitting on my bed, reading Fifth Business by Robertson
Davies and, because I can’t do anything in pure silence for long periods of
time and having to read the entire book by, hopefully, 4 or 5 o’clock today, now being 2, I was
listening to music from the cable-satellite channels. If I listen to music
while reading, it has to fit the genre of the reading material so as not to jar
me out of concentration. Obviously for this novel, I could not be listening to
zen meditation or to top 40 crap. I tried to spa channel which is just soft
music but nothing good was on. The nature channel had some sort of African
chanting going on so I finally rested on “Swinging Standards”. It seemed
appropriate. It consists of music from WWII era. Although the novel takes place
in WWI era, I don’t see too much difference in the music of those times. I was
listening and reading when “Dancing in the Dark” came on. Immediately into my
head popped a vision of my granny and grandpa’s old living room with their archaic
transistor of chrome with many dials and gauges. It was what I call a friendly
room. Friendly rooms are generally characterized by the feeling they evoke in
me almost always directly linked to the quality of light. My grandparents had a
very large picture window in the living room and big, oversized furniture and
lots of little tidbits and tchotchkes for a small girl to stare at for hours.
It occurred to me within the last few bars of the song that I knew it. Maybe
from my dad’s big band cds and perhaps even from my granfather’s old radio.
I always preach to people the importance of getting to know
your family and history. I realize that, although I thought I did, I don’t
really know my grandparents. I’d like to get to know them before it’s too late
because once they are all gone, a part of me will be lost. I just don’t know
how to go about doing it.
