"Where Has He Been?"

With writers there is a question, always of “Writers’ Block.”  Everyone knows about that.  But there’s another, related, question:  What does the writer write about?  In order to write, a writer has to first experience—unless s/he’s going to simply write about the inability to write.

I admit it:  I’ve just been busy these last few months.  For some reason, starting in April, everything seemed to be happening for me all at once:  My day job, the writing club, my family—one thing after another.

What I can’t quite figure out, looking back, is how I ever managed things ten years ago.  At that point, I was facilitating four different groups:  South Bay Writers, Amnesty International Group 35, the South Bay Poly discussion group, and South Bay Circles (the local pagan ritual group).  How on earth did I ever manage to come up with agendas, recruit people to help out, and simply stay sane with all that activity?  I can remember earlier times when I also served on Unitarian church committees in Virginia or here in California; when I helped out with CUUPS (the Covenant of Unitarian Universalist Pagans), when I was a regional coordinator for Amnesty.  How did I ever sort everything out?  And I continue to be a legal minister/priest for the Covenant of the Goddess (although I’m not responsible for facilitating any meetings).

At this point I’m down to running the poly group—which involves just one meeting a month—and South Bay Writers.  But in two days—on July 1^st—my term as president of South Bay Writers ends.  And presumably I will have more time to…write?

But my point is, a writer shouldn’t really just sit around writing.  A writer should be doing something worth writing about.   A writer ought to be involved.  True, a writer can sit by her/himself all the time and write about the world around him/her—but is that interesting enough to be worthwhile?

I’m glad I’ve been involved in social groups.  I’m also glad to be reaching the point where I don’t feel obligated to run them all myself.  I’m looking forward to thinking a little more about…my writing.

Anthems (9) -- Afterword on that Greek National Anthem

After a few rounds of humming the Greek National Anthem (which, as I mentioned, I first heard around age ten), I realized, of a sudden, that it is written in 3/4 time.  This caught me off guard, as I tend to think of anthems as being marches (4/4 time).  One conceivably could dance a waltz to this anthem!  Yet it’s never struck me as being a waltz; I never thought of it as a waltz—and it took me roughly fifty years to realize it was in 3/4.  

 

Frankly, I don’t think it is a waltz; it’s just a tune written in 3/4 time.  A waltz is not just a melody written in threes; it has to have the feel of the dance called The Waltz.  It has to glide in the proper way.

I thought about this some part of a day, then a suspicion hit me:  The Greek National Anthem is a dance, but not a waltz.  Rather, played at the appropriate tempo (perhaps just slightly faster than its usual pace), it would make a very fine hambo.  It has the distinct rhythmic feel of a hambo.

This was another jolt; though not without its humor:  The hambo is a dance from Scandinavia (glancing now at Wikipedia, I see that the hambo itself may be related to the Polish mazurka.  I’ll have to meditate on that for a while!).

So the music of the Greek National anthem is not quite so straightforward as I’d always imagined.  It’s a beautiful tune; I always knew that; but also probably danceable; and surprisingly international as well—rather appropriate for a country we often call the Cradle of Western Civilization!

Anthems (8) -- Three from the Balkans

Someone online mentioned that the Romanian national anthem was “the best” – so I decided to give it a listen.  I was surprised by what I found.  It sticks in my mind much more than many of the other anthems I’ve listened to.  I suppose that is a “plus” – at the very least, the Romanian national anthem is “memorable.”

 

Except that…I can’t persuade myself to actually like it.  I find it a little creepy.  I apologize (to my Romanian colleagues) for that, since I understand that it is a venerable old anthem, predating the Communist era.

Of course, it could just be the recording I found on YouTube:  Very macho-sounding men singing about Romans rising again to greatness, bringing back the glory of Trajan.  Somehow, I think of that film, 300, and people yelling “This is Sparta!”

Whereas…  I expected to like the Hungarian national anthem.  I’ve known the title for nearly forty years, since the time when I was engaged to an ethnic Hungarian-American.  I’d never actually heard the anthem, so I thought “Now, at last!”

I’m not sure what I expected it to sound like.  Maybe I thought it would sound something like the Hungarian dances I’ve danced for these several decades.  But it sounds like a hymn—which is okay, except that it is a slow, classical-music hymn; on the whole (perhaps) not very interesting—however much meaning and emotion it may call forth for Hungarians.  This hymn also predates the Communist era; in fact predates the revolutions of 1848.  But it’s slow and tranquil, not (to my mind) stirring, full of national pathos, guilt, and penance.

The Greek national anthem, I now realize, I have known almost as long as my own American national anthem.  That’s because, when I was nine or ten, my mother joined a book club where my family was sent, monthly, a book, recording and slides about a different country.  This was about the time I learned “The Star-Spangled Banner.”  However, from the book/recording/slides devoted to Greece, I also learned the Greek national anthem—just the music, not the words.  I didn’t know what it was; I didn’t know it was the national anthem.  I actually only confirmed that last week.  But there it is—as familiar to me as—well, myself.  I’ve been humming this song since I was nine.  It seems perfectly natural to me.  So I’m biased; I can’t be neutral about the song.  Which says something about it, I suppose.  It’s an ode to Freedom—but it’s the music I love.

Anthems (7) – Latin Interlude

My original interest in anthems came about because of my love of the Russian anthems, my history with the German/Austrian anthems, and my discovery of the wide-spread distribution of God Save the Queen (more of which later).  I’ve discussed the Russian anthems and I’m holding the other business for the end.  Pending the end, I wanted to get an idea of what else was out there, lurking in places I usually don’t inhabit.  Thus this temporary interlude.

I’ve always felt that white United States folks have been raised to neglect Latin America, so I went off to explore those national anthems.  I came back only with preliminary impressions.

I quickly explored Mexico, Costa Rica, Venezuela, Brazil, Argentina, Uruguay, Chile—and Puerto Rico.  What I remember is mostly Brazil.  I have a friend there, and I’d listened to the anthem before.  The others I’ve heard only once even now—and Venezuela disconnected half-way through.  I remember the Mexican anthem seemed rather bellicose—but that’s from my U.S. perspective (more of that later).  But Brazil I was actually on the verge of learning.

The Brazilian anthem struck me the first time (and later on) as a Verdi opera.   Sources tell me that the style is actually more that of a Rossini opera.  Someone online commented that “it’s so much fun to sing!”  And it probably is.  I just haven’t attempted to learn the words yet—I don’t know the vocabulary, and I’d have to learn how to run all the vowels together.  It’s a future project.

For reference, I also listened to the anthems from Spain and Portugal—and Italy (someone had said it was the prettiest); I’m left with a general sense that they sound “Latin”; they generally don’t sound like Verdi operas, and yet…somehow they remind me of Italian opera—and is that really so surprising?

I guess I’m only half surprised.  It’s Brazil I remember, which does sound like 1830s Italian opera—and in fact the anthem was written around that time, so why shouldn’t it?

I explored other world regions too—more of that shortly.  I intend to return to many of the places I’ve only glanced at; you really do find surprises out there.  I found myself rather touched by what I found in Puerto Rico—though perhaps that was because the singer reminded me of a girlfriend.  (And which “anthem,” actually, was she singing?  Puerto Rico is a commonwealth within the United States.  I think after her I stumbled onto a Puerto Rican revolutionary song!)

Yes, I’ve found many surprises.  Stay tuned.