Eighteen years ago on my choir tour I had known that Estonia had only recently gained independence from the Soviet Union. I remember seeing the communist influence and being curious to see how it would look in twenty years or so, But I had no real concept of the nations history much farther back than that. I remember worrying that my home-stay was over extending herself to accommodate us, but also feeling the welcoming and happiness she had just having two random American kids stay with her for a few nights. I had no sense of why it meant so much for her.
In a way it was kind of funny. Walking around old town having left the hotel. Heading generally toward Viru square where the parade of choirs were staging. Turning the corner was a slight shock. People of all ages in packs of choirs roaming, gathering and standing together like gangs. Reminiscent of the beginning of the movie "TheWarriors." People of all generations dressed in their Estonian best, showing and displaying with pride their districts colors.
I had the realization that THIS is how the Estonians go to War.
As a combat veteran there was something very humbling and grounding about this thought.
A beautiful day for a three mile stroll to the festival grounds. The front moves, centipedes, and finally set pace. What Marine doesn't love a parade!! Slightly cool. Clouds in the sky and just enough sun. From the middle of the pack I took in the crowd. The streets sometimes three or four deep, balconies full, and a slew of people hanging out their windows to take in the parade.
It was the older lady, one of hundreds or thousands out for the songfest parade that broke me. She could have been my grandmother. She could have been any one of my residents at work. Despite my sunglasses, our gaze met and it hit me like a ton of bricks. I've got no idea if the kids noticed, but I cried like a baby for most of the parade.
You could feel the emotion pouring out from her and so many like her, of sorrow and sadness from years of struggle through occupation and oppression. You could feel the joy and happiness that the songfest had in the role of unifying and leading a people to freedom and independence. They were gathering as a people to remember and to celebrate.
They sing of Estonia, and of being Estonian, but in a way just the act of singing, at these moments, is what it is to be Estonian.
Our kids understand and see the power that music has over each new choir year to bring the new group of individuals together. That is 46 people.... At Sundays concert the man I met from Toronto summed it up well. "There are 1.2 million people that speak Estonian. 200 thousand live outside Estonia. We have between a fifth and a quarter of this countries population here today."
Seeing how music and song helped to heal the wounds of a nation and its people gave me so much hope for the future. It was this amazing cathartic experience that I have unsuccessfully been trying to describe to people.
I wonder if over the years this is why getting away for a few weeks a year with the choir has always settled me and helped me to get through my year. From camp to tour. Each restful and healing in its own way. The songs of the kids washing away memories and nightmares I hope they never have to experience.
The kids just see a goofy bald man. A man with a backpack that has everything anyone could ever want or need. Someone with a crazy sweet tooth and crazier smile. Someone that can sleep on any church pew, and gets way too excited when they leave something behind. They hear me yell at them. Count them. Tell and sometimes show them what to do, and NOT to do. I still want my own Estonian swing. I appreciate each of the 46 in their own own individual way being able to make me laugh, cry, and also drive me nuts.
They don't see the other bag of demons I carry. The one they help to empty and lighten, filled with the lifeguard Chris stories they will never hear.
I don't think they realize that I'd go to hell and back for each one of them, again.
