I was married in 1987. As a musician, I didn't want any of those tired, standard wedding marches, so I chose the hymn "Zion's King Shall Reign Victorious". It is a glorious, regal tune that was written by Franz Josef Haydn. It had been my favourite for as long as I could remember.
Some months after the wedding, a friend wondered why I had chosen the German national anthem for my wedding march. I told them I didn't, it was "Zion's King". They assured me that it was the same tune, and sure enough, it is.
It has only been in recent years, when I have thought upon it, that I realized that as an infant and toddler living in Germany, I must have heard the national anthem many times. When I returned to Canada and started hearing the hymns out of the 1938 "Book of Common Praise", #287, "Zion's King", must have resonated deeply.
Monday, July 11, 2011
Wednesday, June 29, 2011
Germany
My Dad worked in Immigration for the Canadian Government.
I have very few memories of Germany. One was of riding some kind of foot-pushed ride-on toy up the back path of the house and seeing a mole. The other is of a placid river with beautiful trees hanging over it, a verdant grassy area, a footpath and a very tall stone wall. There were swans.
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Still, there are stories told.
My parents took a weekend getaway trip and left Bill and I with the Mitchells, Jim and Lottie. The Mitchells were a constant in my life. I loved to visit them. Sadly, they are both gone now. However, the point of this is that I was a year and a half old and still not walking. Normal is anywhere between 9 and 16 months. I walked for the Mitchells.
My Mom`s family came to visit for a time. One day, we went out to a restaurant for a meal. I was given something to drink and bit off a piece of the glass. Apparently this was not a good thing. Later, as we walked through the city, someone said, “Where is Pat?” Mom looked back and saw me a block back with my diaper around my ankles, unable to walk any further. Everybody thought this was hilarious.
I have very few memories of Germany. One was of riding some kind of foot-pushed ride-on toy up the back path of the house and seeing a mole. The other is of a placid river with beautiful trees hanging over it, a verdant grassy area, a footpath and a very tall stone wall. There were swans.
My parents took a weekend getaway trip and left Bill and I with the Mitchells, Jim and Lottie. The Mitchells were a constant in my life. I loved to visit them. Sadly, they are both gone now. However, the point of this is that I was a year and a half old and still not walking. Normal is anywhere between 9 and 16 months. I walked for the Mitchells.
My Mom`s family came to visit for a time. One day, we went out to a restaurant for a meal. I was given something to drink and bit off a piece of the glass. Apparently this was not a good thing. Later, as we walked through the city, someone said, “Where is Pat?” Mom looked back and saw me a block back with my diaper around my ankles, unable to walk any further. Everybody thought this was hilarious.
Birth
I was born on a Saturday evening in October 1958. My arrival interrupted an important football game and this became part of my birth story. From this I learned that I was an interruption, an inconvenience.
Those were the days when fathers were not involved in their children`s births, and mothers were sedated and kept in hospital for several days to recover, with limited access to their babies. With my older brother, Mom tried to establish breast feeding when she arrived home from hospital, but with no support, it was too late. Mom didn't even try with me.
I was named Patricia in honour of Mom`s sister and Anne in honour of Dad`s sister, two good women.
I know nothing about my early life. I can only surmise that I must have been a cranky baby. When I had my children, my mother passed on to me the clothes that I had worn as an infant. The clothes were all wool (which I`m allergic to) and other itchy stiff fabrics that I wouldn't think of putting anywhere near an infant.
When I was two months old and Billy was two, Dad was posted to Germany and off we went on an ocean liner with me in a padded butcher`s basket. I can only imagine how miserable my mother must have been.
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Those were the days when fathers were not involved in their children`s births, and mothers were sedated and kept in hospital for several days to recover, with limited access to their babies. With my older brother, Mom tried to establish breast feeding when she arrived home from hospital, but with no support, it was too late. Mom didn't even try with me.
I was named Patricia in honour of Mom`s sister and Anne in honour of Dad`s sister, two good women.
I know nothing about my early life. I can only surmise that I must have been a cranky baby. When I had my children, my mother passed on to me the clothes that I had worn as an infant. The clothes were all wool (which I`m allergic to) and other itchy stiff fabrics that I wouldn't think of putting anywhere near an infant.
When I was two months old and Billy was two, Dad was posted to Germany and off we went on an ocean liner with me in a padded butcher`s basket. I can only imagine how miserable my mother must have been.
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