This is an absolutely amazing song and I chose this video specifically instead of the official version simply because when I hear it and the words I don't think of a love song but I relate it to my life. You may not get the same sense from the song buy I find that music speaks to me. One line of phrase grabs me and pulls me in. Enjoy the song however it speaks to you...
Listening to this song today got me to thinking about some memories that I may or may not have shared with you. It's not something that I am ashamed of but some people are sceptics and think it's not possible to have occurred that the experiences have come from external sources. You can believe or not...your choice...I'm just telling it how it happened to me :)
1) DAD SPEAKS TO ME
Yeah, already sounds crazy eh? As you may be aware, my dad died when I was 2 years old. I remember nothing about him. Mom never spoke of him (it has been told to me that it was too painful for her to do so), and we (me and my 3 other siblings) were too young to ask any questions. We knew he was dead, we visited his final resting place often, especially in the warmer months when Mom planted marigolds at the base of the masouleum that loomed large against the passing traffic on Oliver Road in Thunder Bay.
Anyways, I was about 7 years old I had cut my foot and gotten stitches and I was not in a good mood. I was up in my bedroom alone, sitting on the end of my bed and rifling through my clothes in the dresser drawer. I was feeling very sorry for myself. I don't know if it was because I had to get stitches or that it was sore or maybe the injury put a halt to other plans, but as I sat there I heard my name being called. "Giselle!" I hollered out in response "What?", and I got no other answer. Then it happened again "Giselle!" Not getting an answer to my response, I hobbled down the short hallway and made my way to the basement stairs. I followed the laughter and chatter that I heard coming from there. I stood at the top of the stairs and asked who was calling and what did they want. "No-one...go away" If I could have stomped away in anger I would have! Well, it turns out that they were down there planning a surprise party for me to help me feel better. And as they sang "For She's a Jolly Good Fella" I felt the love and guilt for my anger at their earlier rebuff.
Flash forward 10 years or so. I am at the house of my Aunt and Uncle in Thunder Bay. It is Saturday or Sunday morning. I have dropped in for a visit as I was passing by. For many years we (my brother and I) were not allowed or encouraged to visit with Aunt Lillian and Uncle Camillo or spend time with our cousins. Long story short - Granny thought they were a bad influence because they were from my Dad's side of the family and he was an alcoholic. But they were family so when I became mobile and mature enough to realize what I was missing - I hoped on my bike and popped in on them. Anyways, on this particular morning only Uncle Camillo was home. I don't remember how it came to be that I was sitting at the kitchen table and watched him come into the kitchen having just woken up. He was shaking like a leaf and I thought maybe he was ill. He puttered in the kitchen for a bit and made some small talk. He could barely hold a glass in his hand until he reached under the kitchen sink for his bottle. It seemed that with his first sips, his shaking disappeared and he got bright-eyed and alert. And then he was asking me if I wanted anything and he called me "Giselle". And I asked him, why. He was the only person who ever called me that...to all other family I was Gigi. And he sat down and told me that it was my father that wanted me named Giselle and when everyone else started calling me Gigi, he never did. He loved the name Giselle for me. But after he died, my mother found that hearing the name was painful for her and for official documentation my name was changed to Elizabeth.
Listening to my uncle tell me this story, I instantly went back in my mind to that moment so many years ago that I heard someone call me Giselle and decided that it was my father that had been calling me.
The thing is, I never dwelt on the memory in fact if you had asked about an early childhood memory it sure wouldn't have come up. It was an obsession, it was barely an afterthought. But clearly it was stored away in my memory because it came flooding back in great detail like it just happened.
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