distant fields
Wartime secrets, flashes of thunder
Bucolic scene of shifting light
Grazing sheep, unaware of danger
Land mines buried beneath their hooves
Tread gently my friends, beware your moves
On this mounded earth no humans dare
Your grass grew rich from blood-soaked soil
Blood of courageous Canadian boys
Who fell by the thousands … Canadian men
From Rimouski, Prince Rupert, North Bay and Red Deer
From Grand Bank, Nanaimo, The Pas and St John
Brave soldiers who collapsed in sandbagged trenches
On this muddy ridge where they fought and prevailed
So many died that we might live
But their dream survived … brave countrymen
Cream white monument stretching skyward
Wind on the wreaths and each soldier’s name
Homage to tragedy, a silent prayer
Mother Canada mourns her dead
Mother Canada mourns her wounded
Her wounded warriors she can’t forget
Inconceivable insanity of ugly war
And the war that followed, and all our wars
I pray we’ve learned, but fear we’ve not
Thick green grass and barbed wire fences
Sun and shadows on distant fields
Wartime secrets, flashes of thunder
Vimy Ridge, Canada’s sorrow
Vimy Ridge, Canada’s pride
• • •
Each summer I have been fortunate to enjoy being the house guest of two women friends from Toronto. International traveller Sis Weld has a wonderful home in Niagara-on-the-Lake, where Canada’s Shaw Festival is based. Unpacking a travel case in one of her flowery pastel bedrooms, I feel that I have arrived back in the English countryside. Sis has always been one of my glamorous role models for how to live an adventurous life well past middle age. She has played hostess to so many actors and actresses and is an avid reader and theatregoer. What delight to sit around her lovely shrubbery-fringed pool, sipping wine or tea, munching on the locally grown peaches, exchanging travel stories, and listening to her lively niece and grand-niece, Lisa and Sofia, both actresses, bubbling about their latest roles and passions. When Sis’s elegant young friend Antony, whose full name is Count Antony Dobrzensky de Dobrzenicz, came over for tea, Sis persuaded me to bring down my guitar and I sang for everyone, including Robin, whose mother, Kate Reid, I had seen in many leading roles in Stratford, Ontario. By now we all felt like family. Sis’s relatives and friends have added much to my annual Niagara-on-the-Lake experience.
My friend Naomi, who has a schedule almost as crammed as mine, has invited me every August to her cottage on Lake Rosseau in Muskoka, two hours north of Toronto. What a tranquil and pristine part of the world! Swimming in the lake with her and mutual pals of ours, paddling along the shore in her canoe, taking saunas, and hiking along the country roads does me a world of good. It has also given me a much welcome break from the city stresses of Toronto with its often-muggy summer air, wailing ambulance and fire engine sirens, and continual traffic soundtrack. Soaking in peaceful natural surroundings has always refreshed me physically and emotionally. It was while at Lake Rosseau that, in the early mornings before anyone had stirred, I arranged several Christmas pieces for an album that was formulating in my mind. They say men come and go in and out of our lives, but girlfriends remain forever. Nevertheless, great girlfriends are hard to come by and I am indeed blessed to have several, albeit a couple of them in faraway California and Florida, but that is part of the price I have paid for my restless life.
15
Christmas Carols in Palm Beach
In December, returning to Florida for the winter season, I took a brief trip to visit one of my Toronto friends who had bought a house in Naples. I remembered how late one night in 2006 I had narrowly escaped from two particularly sinister-looking men, while returning to Miami along Alligator Alley, the long connecting freeway between Naples and Fort Lauderdale. I had pulled up to consult a map when the two walked over to my car. I presumed they were highway patrol officers and carelessly rolled down my window. They had given me one of the worst scares of my life. This time, I remembered to travel only in the daytime.
To me, Naples lacked the international feel of Palm Beach, and I was glad to have chosen my little island instead. Once I was back home, Aubrey, my happy-go lucky handyman, took me shopping, brought me fresh coconuts, and helped with some of the maintenance chores that owning a house entails.
When I picked up my guitar again, I realized that Toronto had no theme song of its own, as do San Francisco, New York, and Chicago, and I decided to write one, naming it simply “The Toronto Song.” I combined an upbeat rhythm with a catchy melody and was able to incorporate most of the city’s colourful landmarks as well as a little of its history, its festivals, and our multicultural human mosaic. I played an early demo to John Tory, not realizing that in future he would become the mayor of our city, and he offered the good suggestion that I add the three boroughs to the lyrics. Later in the year, when back in Toronto, I recorded a simple music video filmed by George Tsioutsioulas so that people could enjoy the song on YouTube. We incorporated live footage from my performance at the Taste of the Danforth Festival as well as some aerial shots provided by Ontario Tourism. It made me happy that I had once again stumbled on a unique idea, a musical offering to the city where my career had begun.
I continued composing material for a new Christmas album that was in the works and made an arrangement of the beautiful carol “O Holy Night,” originally written in 1847. On one of my evening walks I had the idea to add an original “intro” and “outro,” using a few lines I had written in Spanish. Michael eventually recorded layered vocals beneath my opening guitar arpeggios, which Peter stacked to create a hauntingly beautiful monk-like effect. I had to hit a high E, which was fine for recording, but I am not sure I would ever be brave enough to risk this piece live! Michael made excellent guitar arrangements of “We Three Kings” and “God Rest Ye Merry, Gentlemen,” and I wrote an evocative and cinematic piece I called “Christmas Through the Looking Glass.” We included Michael’s duo arrangement of Catalan folk melodies, and I added “El Noy de la Mare,” a lovely carol from Catalonia that many years ago I had arranged and played on my Miniatures for Guitar album. Peter recorded our performance live as this simple guitar duet needed no backing tracks. As I wrote in my first book, Chopin was once quoted as saying, “Nothing is more beautiful than a guitar … save perhaps two.”
My idea for several other familiar carols, which were pretty skimpy on melodic material, was to write original music and weave it into the best-known Christmas melodies. Sitting on my living room couch, I wrote “Fantasy on Oh Little Town of Bethlehem,” and an original piece using “Good King Wenceslas” that actually only quotes seven notes from the famous English carol before veering off into a
