Holidays
I’ve never
been so aware of holidays, not in the British sense of the word meaning
vacation, but specific days to celebrate some event, often military or
religious. As an ESL instructor I go
from holiday to holiday. The latest one
was Flag Day. Last year this was
celebrated by very elderly veterans and their wives who arrived to the classes
with miniature flags and snacks for the refugees from dozens of countries. Seen through their eyes, what could it all have
meant? This year we did a simple reading
about the flag. Often I try not to get
into the grimmer aspects of US history since I figure they’ll have time for all
of that soon enough.
In Spain
holidays came with little explanation and a tendency to extend them into “puentes”
or bridges. That meant there was one
December when Constitution Day and the Immaculate Conception resulted in an entire week off. There was nothing religious about those days with
such religious names.
When I was teaching at the University of Barcelona, in addition to the Day of St. Thomas Aquinas, the patron saint of universities, each faculty had a patron saint which was celebrated with a day off. In case you might have an impression of a culture where no one works, nothing could be further from the truth. I taught in companies where workers arrived around 8 and stayed that long. The thing was that people knew how to enjoy their time off and it was a right.
When I was teaching at the University of Barcelona, in addition to the Day of St. Thomas Aquinas, the patron saint of universities, each faculty had a patron saint which was celebrated with a day off. In case you might have an impression of a culture where no one works, nothing could be further from the truth. I taught in companies where workers arrived around 8 and stayed that long. The thing was that people knew how to enjoy their time off and it was a right.
So that
leads us to Father’s Day. This was a day
I don’t think I ever celebrated but now that I’m on the endless holiday loop,
why not?
Here’s a
poem from my chapbook:
His
Life
Ed hopes his father
had a secret life.
My father had many;
two wives before mother,
a son left behind.
The war years
spent in Europe´s darkness,
in uniform,
rooting through trash
for food.
His secret languages
Russian, Polish,
we imitated in childish
babble,
I learned sister, pillow,
dream.
Siberia of childhood
giant summer fruit,
green winter lights
He brought to a farm,
half a globe away,
leaving a pile of unknowns
a lifetime to decipher.
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