Welsh Heritage Week

Tuesday, July 31. I've been back home for two days now, and I am still struggling to return to the present. My thoughts, feelings, and indeed my very soul are with the people and experiences I have just left behind. The depth of emotion is so profound and words seem woefully inadequate to express it. I shouldn't be surprised, knowing that Wales is my "True Home" and that I have spent many lifetimes there. But I am. It has been 11 years since I last attended Welsh Heritage Week, and 7 years since my last trip to Wales. I have continued to teach the language and the folk dancing, and I attend the local Welsh society's events. But since that last trip with the Oak Grove Presbyterian Church choir, I have not felt the hiraeth, that longing, that was so all-consuming. I didn't need to. There was a sense of completion with that trip. Whatever had driven me to be there with those people, whatever grand purpose it served, we had accomplished it, and we had celebrated our common passion. But now, some new purpose has been awakened. I will be decompressing for days yet, and processing these newly stirring thoughts and feelings for months.

Attending Welsh Heritage Week is probably the closest one can come to actually being in Wales without leaving North America. It is "a week-long course on everything Welsh, including: language lessons, folk dancing, clogging, hymn singing, harp lessons, Welsh literature, and so much more" according to the website http://www.welshheritageweek.org/index.html. I first attended WHW in 1988 at Hamilton College in Clinton, NY. That was where I met Alice Williams, then President of the Welsh Folk Dance Society, and became a certified Welsh folk dance instructor. This year's course was in Madison, WI, and I attended as a commuter, staying with my very good friends and former Minneapolitans Danny and Robin Proud. Needless to say, many of the attendees were old and dear friends. And even the new people seemed familiar - a reunion from some past life or other no doubt. Besides which, all of us were there to celebrate our love and our passion for that tiny principality across the ocean. That is a bond which probably has to be experienced in order to be truly understood.

Continued over a week later...

It's been back to real life this week, and much of that euphoria has dissipated. Tomorrow I'm leaving on another very welcome week-long vacation. The last couple of months have been quite stressful in some subtle and some not so subtle ways. With a new branch manager at work, we are all still feeling our way, adjusting into new relationships and new expectations. We also lost a librarian and a substitute librarian to other jobs, so there has been a lot of extra work, and I haven't had the usual amount of down time at home. The garden required a LOT of work. Lily had cystitis, which made her very crabby and disrupted the uneasy balance I had achieved by putting Percy on Prozac. I had wanted to wean him off of that before the trip, but it didn't work out. Things are so much better with him on it, so I think that might be permanent. And then, the online group I helped create and moderate had some serious dramas going on. Fortunately I was able to take a giant step back, and let the other moderators deal with things. Not that that was easy to do!

All of that took its toll on my health with a flare-up of the colitis after 18 months of remission. Although relatively mild, it adds another layer of stress as everything becomes even more of a balancing act. Even going on vacation under such circumstances becomes potentially stressful - how will I manage my diet? will there be bathrooms when and where I need them? what if I have an "accident"? will I have to give up doing things I want to do because I am too tired or don't feel well? All the while, of course, doing my best to let go of such worries and just go and have a good time.

As it turned out, the colitis was manageable. The food was pretty good, although I had to supplement it with things I brought. Yes, there were the inevitable trips to the bathroom with cramping and discomfort especially in the mornings. But it stayed relatively limited to that, and improved during the day with very few problems. I did talk to the instructor of the early morning language class about it on the first day, because I didn't want him to wonder why I was in and out so much. Bless his heart, for the rest of the week he would ask me several times a day "Wyt ti'n iawn?" (Are you okay?) That meant a lot to me. Certainly living by myself there is no one to ask or to care. And it's not something I want to be widely known at work. In fact, it could be a liability. So it can be a very lonely thing to be dealing with. Diolch o galon, Rhod!

Speaking of language classes, this is probably the heart of the course. So much of the culture of Wales, its literature, poetry, music, etc., is inseparable from the language. We would begin each day all together as chief tutor Rhodri would drill us on some of the basics. Kind of like throwing the beginners into the deep end of the pool, but it was marvelously effective. It also reinforced that feeling of all being part of one family, even after we divided into our separate classes.

I was in the advanced class, which Rhodri taught. It was a nice surprise to have quite a large group of advanced students. I probably shouldn't have been, when so many of the same people attend every year! Indeed, at least two others had been in the advanced class with me back in 1988, when I couldn't speak much conversational Welsh at all, but I had studied medieval Welsh and read the language relatively fluently. They didn't know where else to put me, so I floundered along at that level and understood more than I thought I would. Eleven years ago, I could carry on a conversation, but still felt that a lot was going over my head. This time, I had 13 years of actually TEACHING the language behind me. Although most of my students have been beginners, I have developed a certain comfort level with speaking, and I think it really showed. I wouldn't say I'm "fluent" yet, just because my vocabulary is admittedly limited. I am still much more comfortable writing in Welsh, where I can stop and look up a word or a grammatical point. Beyond my own teaching, I haven't "worked" at the language. But I came home with a new desire to bump it up a notch, because I could be really fluent without too much effort. And I have three advanced students still with me who need to be challenged as well.

Rhodri's wife, Chris, led the dance classes. We didn't really have enough people to have a beginners group and an advanced group this year. Nevertheless, we dragged the beginners through Pont Caerodor, which is a very challenging dance. I was pleased to learn two new dances which I will be teaching my group. And, I may have a new dancer! There was a woman from Minneapolis who attended the course and did very well with the dancing. The Twmpath on Friday night was lots of fun, with Rhodri calling the dances. There was a huge band of musicians who had worked hard rehearsing all week. Oh, for live musicians here in Minneapolis to play for the dance group!, but alas, they would want to be paid, and we can't afford it.

Each evening was different. On Monday night we gathered in the dorm lounge and watched the movie "Very Annie-Mary." Tuesday was pub night at The Laurel Tavern (good name!) a few blocks from campus. On Wednesday, we gave the staff the night off and entertained ourselves with a Noson Lawen, or talent show. The staff gave us a concert on Thursday night, which included entertainment by the incomparable Phyl and Mags Harries who direct the entertainment at Cardiff Castle. Who could forget Phyl's rendition of Tom Jones's "Delilah", or the audience participation in a Swiss? version of the "Kookaburra" song. And on a more serious note, they gave an admirable performance of selections from "Under Milkwood."

Saturday night was our Eisteddfod. The dance classes performed the two new dances. Cloggers, harp students, and the band all performed. And competitions were held in solo singing, group singing, solo and group instrumental, recitation, composition, and various literary categories. Classes were suspended on Saturday afternoon so that we could prepare. The highlight is the awarding of the crown (for prose) and the chair (for poetry.) Those are taken quite seriously, though the rest of the Eisteddfod is somewhat tongue in cheek. The staff has fun with the adjudications. In other words - don't take yourself too seriously!

I decided to have a bit of fun with the solo singing. Danny had a couple of soprano songs by Joseph Parry. I chose "Yr Eos" (The Nightingale) published in 1918. Old fashioned, very "romantic" in style, with dramatic pauses, and accompaniment imitating bird calls. I rehearsed it a couple of times with Gareth Hughes Jones, former director of the Caernarfon Male Voice Chorus. He has been on staff at Welsh Heritage Week since the early 90's and is very dear to me. I knew that nothing would faze him, so I rehearsed it quite seriously, without letting him know what I planned. Indeed, I wasn't sure how it would all work out. I solicited props from a variety of local folks. Danny's sister, Kit, found a large fuzzy hat at a costume shop. Another woman had a straw hat with pheasant and ostrich feathers from a Renaissance festival. I borrowed Siân Frick's Welsh paisley shawl to wear over my dance costume. And another local woman provided the key to the whole thing - she had some birds, a cardinal and a chickadee, that chirp when you press them. Kit and I went shopping at Michael's Arts and Crafts store on Saturday afternoon. I spent $23 on fake flowers and fruit, Spanish moss, and a pair of doves. It took me only an hour to put together the most amazing hat - a "way over the top" Victorian assemblage of feathers, flowers, and fruit, with a nest of doves on the top. I hid the birds in my shawl and made a grand entrance from the back of the auditorium holding a bouquet of flowers, as if I were out walking in the woods. I squeezed the birds, and pretended to be listening to them singing in the "trees" above me as I walked up the aisle. I had asked Gareth to set up the music stand with my music for me. It was too low, and I didn't have my hands free to raise it, so in my best haughty, Victorian diva voice I said "Gareth bach, wnei di godi'r stand, os gweli di'n dda?" (Gareth dear, will you raise the stand, please?) He jumped up and played his part perfectly, with a big grin on his face. Indeed the whole audience was howling with laughter. I managed to stay in character and got through most of the first verse without laughing. However, when it got to the part with the long pauses, and the bird calls in the piano, I squeezed the birds. In the second verse, I started adding more birds and it got harder and harder to keep a straight face. There's a very dramatic pause with a fermata on a high G. And then it is repeated pianissimo. Very, very difficult even when you're NOT laughing. And the line is something like how one by one all the birds but one fall silent... and then I squeeze the birds. I just about lost it there. Good thing for long fermatas!! I buried my face in the flowers trying to compose myself. And Gareth just waited for me to come back in. All things considered, I think I pulled it off quite well. I'm sure it will be talked about for a long time. People came up to me afterwards and said it was the funniest thing they had seen in years. Nobody knew where the birds songs were coming from. Some thought it was the doves on the hat. Nobody knew I had them in the shawl. I hope someone got it on video. I would love to see it. I'll post pictures when I get them.

Following that act, I was involved in most of the group singing competitions, either as a singer or accompanist. I also did a lovely little penillion duet with Siân and Mags on the harp. I think it was Rhodri who adjucated those, and he especially commented on how much he enjoyed my "sensitive" accompanying. It has me longing to get back into it again. I loved those years as a high school accompanist, and I'm going to be thinking how I might get involved in that again.

And finally, after a very long evening, the closing ceremony. Eleven years ago, on the course in Wales, I had won the chair for my bilingual poem "Soultwins". This year's topic was difficult - write a poem about the new Welsh Assembly. That didn't interest me at all. The crown used to be for completing a limerick. But fortunately it has been upgraded in recent years to a prose composition. This year's topic - summer houses. That lent itself very well to writing about my move to the country last spring and creating my summer garden, an activity that has brought me much peace and healing. Free time being severely limited, I ended up writing it after midnight on Thursday night. It had to be turned in by Friday night. I was up until 3:30 am and finished it by skipping the literature and folk music classes on Friday afternoon. Needless to say, I was exhausted Friday. But I still found I had plenty of energy for the Twmpath. As a dancer, it's impossible to sit out! And the location was NOT air conditioned, and we were sweating buckets too. I slept VERY well Friday night. It was all worth it. I won the "crown" which happened to be a cheesehead - the course was in Wisconsin after all. Actually I got to take home a different crown - one that had originally been purchased for the occasion. I let Danny keep the cheesehead. Oh yes! Gareth borrowed my Victorian hat for the ceremony. I'm told that he has never before deviated from his usual boxer shorts. But he had those under the hat. And by now the doves were falling out of their nest and Spanish moss shedding everywhere.

I think it was Thursday night that we gathered in the dorm lounge after the staff concert, for what is euphemistically termed "Bible Study." Food and drink is scrounged up, and folks stay up into the wee hours eating, drinking, and being merry. I didn't want to miss out on any fun, but conscious of my health situation I decided to leave about 11:30. I still had to work on my prose entry for the Eisteddfod, too. Kit decided to ride back with me, but I lost track of her. I took the elevator down to the 1st floor. No Kit. I went back up to the party on the 3rd floor. Still no Kit. I went back down to the 1st floor. Hmmm. Did she go outside and head for the car? I went through the inside doors to look out, not realizing they would lock behind me. And since I was a commuter not staying in the dorm, I didn't have a key card. Looking outside it was POURING down rain. Great! But I couldn't get back in, so I had no choice but to go out. And then I realized I was at the back of the dorm. The main entrance was on the 2nd floor and the parking lot was on the other side of the building. I finally managed to make my way around, and got to the car, and of course I was completely drenched. And no sign of Kit. I got in the car, and sat for awhile, but finally decided there was nothing else to do but go back to Dan's house, and hope that Kit would come back with him. I was so wet that I decided I might as well wash my hair. Kit did come back with Dan, and offered me the use of her hairdryer, but it did not work. So I worked on my writing as my hair dried, and as I already said it was 3:30 before I got to bed. We had another "Bible Study" on Saturday after the Eisteddfod, which had gone until 11 pm. I felt that since I had won the crown, I should be there for at least a little while.

So by Sunday morning I was pretty shattered, as they say in Britain. We don't use that idiom, but it is a pretty apt description of being so completely tired, that one's emotions are quite fragile. Not that that is a BAD thing. Emotions are bound to be high after such an intense week with all of its joys, but also with the sadness that it is coming to an end and goodbyes must be said. The final event was our Gymanfa Ganu, the hymn-singing festival. We had practiced our parts and our pronunciation all week at Ysgol Gan (Singing School) under Gareth's direction. Now we car-pooled out to Spring Green, Wisconsin, to the chapel that is on the Taliesin estate, where Frank Lloyd Wright's family is buried. It is a beautiful spot in the country in the hilly part of Wisconsin that looks so much like Wales, and where many Welsh people settled. The music and the singing is glorious. The theology expressed in the hymns is mostly atrocious to my liberal UCC upbringing, but it doesn't matter. It's a connection to a history, a culture, and to people that I care deeply about. My ancestors were ministers, and minister's wives, and minister's children and they sang and loved those hymns. Joy and grief and yearning to be healed of our ills and to find security in a very uncertain world are pretty universal. I was touched, as I always am, and cried through much of the service. And I certainly wasn't the only one.

We had a picnic lunch there at Spring Green. It was a bit somber knowing that we would soon all go our separate ways. I said goodbyes there, since we would be returning to Dan's house and not to the dorm. As it turned out, Kit left her glasses there, and had to go back later in the afternoon to fetch them. I went with her, and it was nice to have her company and to be able to sort of decompress by going back. We retrieved the glasses, and then decided to visit a flea market that we had seen previously near Spring Green. I bought a rabbit planter. Perhaps I can make some beaded daffodils and other "spring" flowers to put in it.

All I could think about during the service and afterwards, was how could I have let eleven years go by without attending Welsh Heritage Week? There was the trip to Wales in 2000, of course. I even ran into Gareth there in a bookstore in Chester, of all places! There was my hospitalization, and medical bills, and then the cutbacks in subbing, and finally the loss of the job entirely when severe budget cuts forced the city to cut funding for subbing entirely. There was two years of unemployment and temp jobs and reevaluating 20 years of career choices. Finally there was a new job with Carver County, though only part time. I went through bankruptcy in order to get a badly needed new start with finances. Things have steadily improved since then. I can look forward to future Welsh Heritage Weeks. 2009 will be in Wales again. I'll be saving my money in order to go. But some part of me is still mourning those difficult experiences, which were not even new wounds but the reopening of very old ones - 30 years of health issues, and two previous job losses, and how much I have had to let go of over the years.

Another thing that I felt rather poignently, was seeing all of the couples around me. In particular, there was Robert and his wife Jennifer who sang Ar Hyd y Nos together at the service. Again there was an indefinable sense of loss, of something greatly desired missing from my life. And yet I know that it would be a huge leap for me to let that kind of intimacy into my life. Am I ready to let go of whatever fears have kept me single and celibate for 52 years? I don't know. I was deeply in love once upon a time. Letting go of that dream was perhaps so painful that have not been willing to repeat the experience. Am I ready to change that now? Not yet probably, but I'd like to keep it percolating in my brain and see where it goes. A lot can happen in the next 52 years! Or even in the next 5 or 10. I do know that I am on the verge of a whole new phase, and I will keep pushing at ways to bring more of what I truly want into my life. The momentum is building. Lots of things are sort of bubbling beneath the surface. All I can do for now is let it simmer and see what happens.