Culture

Last night we went to the house of some great friends. John is from Ireland, and much of his family was visiting. As with any night spent at their house, as soon as plates were cleared, the music started up. John is a fabulous bodrah player , and he and Fitz love to get together and jam. We sat out on the deck and sang old Irish songs until deep into the night. So deep into the night, in fact, that the kids all ended up sleeping over.

At one point, Fitz turned to me and said " I am so jealous of the culture of Ireland." We are both very Irish, but it's very different having grown up in the true culture. They have literally hundreds and hundreds of songs, beautiful sad old balads, and hilarious story songs, and you yell out one line and eveyone jumps in.

America is so big, there is so much there, that it seems culture can get watered down a bit. Sure we share the culture of many different places, but it's not the same. Each song last night seemed to bring up old memories, or old neighborhoods, and people and places 'back home'. It was such a joy to watch them all. I was so happy to just be able to share a little bit last night.

It also reminded me once more of the fact that Pipo has that... he has his own culture from a small country that is rich and beautiful. And I need to always keep that alive for him. He loves his Haitian handdrum (though he was pretty interested in the bodran last night!) and we do try and find opportunities to imerse him in Haitian culture... I just hope it's enough. Watching this family together last night, I knew the power of having others around you to share those memories. And I am so thankful that Pipo has his best friend from Haiti in the next town to share some of those memories.