Month: September 2018

These are the feelings I experienced in class as we watched the film, We Were Children. (Eyes covered at times. Tears dripping down my face. Wondering if I would actually vomit.)

Outrage at the evil rape of children by criminals hiding in the cloaks of the Catholic Church. Time and again, the Catholic Church has been in the spotlight for their refusal to deal with the pedophiles in their midst. The stench of rottenness goes deep within the organization. Those in high leadership now have been aware of the problem that has existing for decades. Rings of pedophiles torturing and abusing children have found a safe haven in the arms of the Vatican. Jehovah’s Witnesses have had the same scandal as revealed by an Australian Royal Commission. THIS SHOULD NOT BE!

Outrage that children and families were separated. Why did the government not send teachers to the communities? This is something I need to find out. My husband and I believe strongly in the importance of family and were counter-cultural in our lifestyle, which included home-schooling. No government should have the authority to take children away from their families to enforce government-dictated education. Outrage that I was not taught about residential schools in all those years of Canadian history courses I took. THIS SHOULD NOT BE!

Deep grief for the pain and loss those children experienced. For the mothers and fathers with empty arms, whose trust was so shattered. For the lifelong scars and devastation. THIS SHOULD NOT BE!

Shame at being a citizen of a country whose government took these actions. Shame at being associated through being a Christian with these religion-peddlers who would treat children with such harshness. The call of Christ is an invitation to come and rest, and to be free from the burdens imposed by man-made institutions masquerading as speakers for God. It is an faith that values each individual and that protects and nurtures children. It does not force itself on others. It is marked by love and compassion for others. What we saw in the film is not true Christianity. It is something else entirely. THIS SHOULD NOT BE!

In my congregation, I administered our protection policy for anyone coming in contact with vulnerable people – seniors, children, those with special needs. Police checks, references, yearly training, windows in all doors, and other policies to protect those we love from those who would try to harm them. It is a very serious matter. Sadly, there are pedophiles who think that churches are easy targets. People are welcoming and trusting. There can be access to lots of families. We hear isolated news reports of incidents in Protestant churches. There are wolves among the sheep, and we need to be vigilant to protect our lambs.

I have a dearly loved sweet grand-daughter with an unknown aboriginal heritage.  The little girl in the movie reminded me so much of her. Her heritage is unknown because of estrangement.  There is a story there. I have always wondered what that story is since no one seems to know. It won’t be easy  but I wonder if I can find out.

Knowledge takes us to a different place. We grow, painfully, in our understanding of others as stories are told and layers are peeled back. This will have consequences for our practice of community music.

Our eyes are opened. This is a good place to be, right?

One of my class-mates, Josh, has written recently about his experiences and reflections on the high-school music community he is involved with as a teacher.

Identity and Finding Common Ground

It caused me to think back on my own high-school experiences where, even though I was passionate about musical things…

I was not involved in the school music community.

They didn’t have a vocal program, and piano and voice were my two areas of interest and training. So I went from being in the musicals, choir, and select vocal ensemble of grade 7 and 8 to doing nothing musical at high school.

 

Even my report card showed my inclinations (and was sign of what to expect in my adult life!)

This was a strange turn of events created by the school administration. You had to go to a lot of work with the District Board to attend a different high school with a vocal program, and I didn’t know anyone doing that or even how that would be accomplished.

What “saved” me (pun intended) was that

I was deeply connected to a music community through my church

and this involved many enriching and meaningful opportunities. But I can’t help wondering, what if I hadn’t been connected. What then? I struggle to even contemplate it, but life would have been impoverished.

• I would have had to rely on someone else to find a music opportunity because that was pre-Internet, so no Googling!
• I don’t remember my school friends talking about outside musical groups at all.
• I’m not sure if my parents would have known about them.
• Would I have felt safe or comfortable as an awkward, self-conscious teenager breaking into a new group?

What would have happened to the spark of music within me? Without anything to fan the flames, would the fire have died?

My adult life has been so centred around music that I can’t imagine what my life would have been like otherwise.

I have indeed been blessed by a community music program.

If you are familiar with the Old Testament scriptures, you will know about the Tower of Babel – that infamous structure built in order to reach heaven. God did not appreciate it, and confounded the builders with new languages so that they couldn’t understand each other, had to quit the building project and move away.

 

Like others in my course of study, I have my own tower. It’s a tower made of books that I have brought home from the university – they represent my studies in musicology, composition, and research. There’s a songbook, some choral scores, a thesis, as well as textbooks and academic books of inquiry. I have to admit, as a bibliophile, that the university library is a treasure trove of delights. There are two books there for which I’ve been searching for years. The music faculty has its own floor. Need I say more?

But more than just a tower of books, this represents many of things I’ll be exploring in my Master’s degree.

It’s only been two weeks and already my mind has been opened to many things of definition, delight and disturbance.

You can expect to hear more about that in the days ahead.

I always check out people’s bookshelves when they aren’t looking. It’s so fascinating and tells me more about them as a person. I’d love to see your tower.

(Thanks to Niki for the inspiration for this post! https://nkaz.edublogs.org/2018/09/22/exploring-learning-questioning-everything/)

Last night, I dreamt that our Wilfrid Laurier University Community Music class were all taking turns helping each other at our CM placements.

This might have been prophetic insight into a new initiative for the program.

Or it might have been these.

 

Yes. That one.

It’s me, reading about the globalization and commodification of the mythical Celtic Modern world.

Stay tuned. More info to follow.

Welcome, everyone, to my first blog post on Music and Meaning. To introduce myself, here are some things that you might (or might not) find interesting.

My Name

Fiona.

That’s it. No second name. Why?

Two reasons:

1. My mother did not want to give me an option of changing it to my second name. So I don’t have one. She assumed I probably wouldn’t like Fiona. Hey, Mom, that’s an interesting approach to child-naming.
   
2. My father doesn’t have a second name either, so it’s a family tradition. He’s not sure why, and my grandparents have gone to their reward, so I can’t ask them about it. My father was supposed to be named Dominic (chosen by my faithful Catholic grandmother), but my lapsed Protestant grandfather went down to the registry office in Glasgow and named his first son…after himself. So maybe, Grandpa was in a hurry to get the deed done and didn’t have time to think of a second name. Or maybe not.

But this is supposed to be about me and my name. Fiona. It’s Scottish Gaelic, meaning fair-skinned. A Scottish Snow White, if you will. (Thanks, Nathan, for pointing that out!)

Apparently, there is a wikipedia article on my name and I just learned a few bizarre things about it and am now in crisis.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fiona

Maybe not so Gaelic after all?

I think that having just one name might make that name more significant to the named.

When I was a baby, my older brother could not pronounce the name, so I was called No-nee. Occasionally, my mom still uses it.

When I was a child, no one in Canada seemed to have heard of this name, and for a three-year old, it is tiring to correct pronunciation and spelling. So, the famous family story is that I would say “Fiona. F – I – O…Oh, just call me MARGARET!” (after my beloved next door neighbour.) So, despite my mother’s plan, I did in fact choose a second name, although no one actually used it but me.

When I was in high school, the boys who sat next to me in history liked to call me “Fi-fi” because they knew I hated it and associated it with a poodle. I would sometimes be asked if I had Italian heritage, or African heritage. If I had a dollar for every time someone tried to spell it with a Ph, I would be a wealthy woman. (They were usually Americans. True story.)

As an adult, I now have the pleasure of saying, “My name is Fiona. You know, the princess in the movie, Shrek?”

I am now forever identified with a temperamental princess/green ogre. If my husband is reading this, no snide comments, please.

My People

In case you haven’t figured it out yet, I am a Scottish Canadian, having come to Canada as a child with my family. The rest of the clan lived , and still lives, in Scotland and we moved back there again when I was eight for a few years, then back to Canada. So, I am definitely a mixture of the two cultures. If I had kept my accent, I would be identified more as Scottish, but it has been long gone. I’m not even good at faking it, so please don’t ask.

As a mother and grandmother, I identify with our growing family (four children, two sons-in-law, and six grandchildren so far). We love spending time together and do it as often as possible as well as having a group chat that is active every day.

As a follower of Jesus Christ, I identify with the world-wide Christian community, with the local congregation where I worship, and with the ministry where I serve with my husband.

My Home

I grew up in Waterloo (when in Canada) and this area has always felt like home, but since being in the rural Grey Bruce region, that beautiful area of the province has started to feel like home, too. I love to sit by Georgian Bay and enjoy the huge expanse of water. It reminds me of scenes from Scotland, but that makes sense since we are in the Grey Highlands, after all.

The view out my window looks like this for many months of the year (sometimes October to April). If I ask to Facetime for a class, this will be the reason:

My Music

Music has always been an important part of my life and continues to be a driving passion. Three significant memories come to mind:

Robed, holding a lit candle in the dark, proceeding down the aisle singing with the adult and children’s choir at Knox Presbyterian Church. What a magical experience! I have remained actively involved in church music ever since and have worked with many children’s and teen groups to help them experience the same joy through music.

Listening to the Osmonds first LP at the home of my friends. Together we enjoyed the lush harmonies and orchestrations. I became a huge Donny fan and didn’t really listen to much other popular music. Friendships were developed with other girls who were also fans. We’d choreograph routines and pretend to be their back-up singers. That experience has probably made me the lyrical composer that I am today.

Singing myself to sleep at night. Isn’t that what everyone does? Now, I’m so tired I am asleep before my head hits the pillow, but my mom told me that she missed that when I moved out. Once upon a time I sang continually.

 

Now I don’t, and spend a lot of energy to help others sing, but that’s a story for another time.

 

That’s all for this entry. I’m looking forward to reading your blogs, my musical colleagues!

Oh, and one last thing….

(You didn’t REALLY expect me to end this blog without some bagpipes, did you?) #Bagpipesmakeitbetter