Homebodies - Point of frustration or divine intervention?
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- Published on Sunday, December 20, 2015
By Rita Friesen
The Neepawa Banner
In our home, it was my beloved that embraced this holiday season. Ed loved the decorations, the trees, the music and even the hustle and bustle of holiday shopping. It was not uncommon for us to travel to a centre just days before Christmas, not to shop, but to sit and watch. Watch the hurrying of people, take time to see the way the commercial world embraces Christianity for a season, to hear old carols and winter songs fill the public air.
To watch family dynamics, to catch lovers exchanging glances and stolen kisses.
I am still being careful what music I listen to. Driving to class one morning, the music to “Country Roads” filled the car. I was deeply thankful that it was simply the music, if the words had been sung I would have had to pull over and weep. Ed and my youngest daughter loved to sing that song together, sometimes both on their guitar, but always harmonising. One of the last songs they sang together. (Classmates noted that I was unusually quiet that day – as if I talk a lot!) This week, as I stepped out of my home for the last walk of the day, somewhere around midnight, the sky was so clear and the stars so bright that the words of another of Ed’s favourite songs, this time a Christmas song, rushed into my consciousness. ‘One a cold winter’s night, every star shone so bright…’ If my memory is correct, that’s a 50/50 right there, Cindy Church, Colleen Peterson, Sylvia Tyson and Caitlin Hanford formed the group Quartette and this song was on their Christmas album. As it would happen, our copy of the CD had literally been played to death, all I could find was the cover with an errant disc inside. So I did what I often do, searched the world wide web. No, either I have the words all wrong, or these words are hidden way deep in a song, but I could not/cannot find the lyrics.
I marvel at the power of music. When the mind is tired and wandering, or even temporally absent, the songs of the past are often crystal clear. As I enjoy time with my senior friends, this eternal tie is so evident. Especially in this season when we bring out those songs we sing but once a year – from Frosty the Snowman, Jingle Bells and Silver Bells, to Away in the Manger and Silent Night. Music has many faces.
Back to the ‘on a cold winter’s night, every star shone so bright…’ What I do recall is the words are soft and flowing and deeply moving. Therefore, is it a point of frustration or Divine Intervention that I am, at this point, unable to access the music and the memories?
