BFsF

For the first time in a while, my sugar dropped at 1:00am, breaking my rest and causing some stress. It’s a milder day than yesterday, with some lovely sun and gentle breeze, so our outings were more pleasant.  I admit that I was reluctant this morning, as I was feeling unstable so I explained to Jerry that it would be a short walk and I’d be returning to bed to try to recoup some of my energy.   Jerry (shown here waking me up this morning) looked at me, wagged his tiny stump of a tail, barked at a passing dog and was a very calm boy thereafter, so he didn’t try to trip me, nor pull me, and when I got back and sat in my chair, he immediately plumped into my lap, curled into a ball and went to sleep.  I felt that moving him wouldn’t be kind, so he stayed there and got his sleep, and I had a moment of relaxation.  Don said that he had a busy day planned, with a “pre-season” (whatever that means) hockey game, and a baseball game, so he got into position to cheer his teams on… and spent most of the afternoon snoring.  I tried changing the channel once I realized that the game was over, and he never stirred until the phone rang about half an hour later… “Watching” avidly.  😂 

My dear friend from high school sent me a link to a video this morning.  She’d done an interview about parang (Trinidad Christmas music) and discussed her experiences with the art.  I’d intended to spend a minute (it’s about 30 minutes long, and I wasn’t sure if my attention would hold out… silly me!) but was so caught up in it that I listened to it TWICE to be sure that I didn’t miss anything.  As I listened to her talking, I had flashes of memory of different things from us growing up together, being in school, at church, after University… understand, we’ve been friends since we were 10, and our mothers used to joke that they had an extra daughter because there were times when we were inseparable.  Happily, we’ve never had a fight — we’ve disagreed on things, but never fought — and are still close.  Before I moved to Canada, we always spent Boxing Day together, as it’s her birthday, and Christmas has that extra shine because of it.  (I try to separate her birthday and Christmas gifts, not always successfully, because it’s just no fun having the two so close together.)  In her interview, though, she talked about the changing role of women in the performance of parang — originally, it was only sung by men, then a few women began singing, and they’re now the icons of the art form.  We could have a discussion on gender roles in traditional arts as we listen to  some CDs of the music — including of my friend’s group (my mom had bought me their first CD years ago and it’s part of my Christmas rotation) and I just have to hear the first few notes to be transported to the warmth of a Trini Christmas.  

I’d read something that said that music has the power to link us to specific moments in our lives, as does scent (which is apparently an even more  powerful memory trigger.). As Jo talked about particular tunes, I could hear them in my head, and I relived, briefly, moments related to them.  Like Christmas shopping on Charlotte Street — it is (or was; I haven’t been there in over 20 years, so dear knows how much it’s changed) a street with a number of small, crowded shops and market stalls which gets really crowded.  It’s less expensive than shopping in a mall, but offers a smaller selection of goods.  There are usually locally made items, loads of inexpensive Chinese-made trinkets, and almost constant noise of vendors calling out their wares.  I’m romanticizing it, I know, but like many memories, our brains edit out the less pleasant parts so we only remember the good.  I spent a few charming moments thinking of past Christmases, the music, people, food and traditions… as Jo reminisced about cleaning sorrel or shelling pigeon peas, I was briefly transported back to my grandmother’s kitchen where there would be bowls heaped with pigeon peas to be shelled… my parents had contests to see who could find the most “pretty Betty” (peas that were speckled instead of plain green or white) and who could shell the fastest.  There were other memories of making pastels, and the assembly line that we’d create to open the masa (cornmeal dough), fill it with the cooked meat, wrap them, stack them for steaming… and then waiting impatiently for them to finish cooking so we could eat the first one with piping hot, fresh from the oven bread!  Or handing my grandmother the ingredients to make black cake, putting cloves into the ham… I’m making myself hungry!!  Christmas has changed as we’ve gradually lost family members.  We still prepare the foods we liked, play the music, dance a little as we decorate the trees, but it’s very different.

I miss being able to go to the Christmas shows and concerts with Trini music; I haven’t been home for Christmas in 8 years; the last time was after my big surgery and I went home to convalesce; that was also the last Christmas with my mom, so it’s bittersweet.  At least, though, I do have the music available to recreate part of the atmosphere of the holiday — and it’s a warm feeling to know that the Parang Queen was my high school BFF, when I listen to their recordings.  Thanks, Jo, for the delightful memories today, and for the sparkles of sunshine that I felt while you talked about parang and Christmas and the things that we did growing up.  I know that her mom is probably bursting with pride after having her cooking praised on national TV!  

Happy birthday to my sisters-in-law, two of whom are celebrating this week.  I’ve already had it rubbed in that birthday cakes were dropped off to Daddy who is not shy about bragging about how he’s being spoiled! 😂  Meanwhile, I’ve got none, but it’s all fine.  Good night all!