Playing for Change - connecting the world through music

Playing for Change

I like these folks so much and their mission is one that really resonates with me.   When words in any language are not enough, music takes us higher to a place where we can achieve something very close to perfect harmony.

Promenade

Any time is a good time to read poetry but there is something about doing it while sitting in front of the fire on a lazy Saturday afternoon that just makes it all the more pleasurable.  Another poem from our guest poet, Corinne Texier.


Promenade...

Sur le chemin des ombres libertines,

Mes yeux scintillent toujours émerveillés,

Le sautillement fringant de mes bottines,

Résonnent sur ces trottoirs glacés.


La pluie s’éteint en larmes fluettes,

En harmonieux concert sur ma peau,

S’offrant à moi comme une fête,

Balayant l’âme de ses oripeaux.


En vous voyant, d’un air moqueur,

Taquine, repoussant les regards moroses,

Divine et coquette, elle ouvre son cœur,

Devant vos yeux comme un rayon de rose,


Fouettant au sang les croquemitaines,

Heureusement que je les voie,

Les regardant de façon hautaine,

Je les laisse errer ainsi sans voix.


Abandonnant au passage les yeux noirs,

Au hasard, sans tambour ni trompette,

Ils oublieront l’espace d’un soir,

Ces soupirs qu’un faible écho répète.


Spectacle heureux et d’effet hardi,

L’amour s’envolant à tire d’aile,

Animant les démons de midi,

Pour aller éteindre les chandelles.

Corinne Texier

Fevrier 2011

The Turbulence of Migration

I stumbled across the work of Nikos Papastergiadis a few years ago.  The title of the book, The Turbulence of Migration, intrigued me and I purchased it hoping to find some original ideas on the topic.  I was not disappointed - this book is an attempt to rethink migration in the context of the late 20^th century modern world and globalization.

Why does Papastergiadis say that migration has become “turbulent”?  Not too long ago, he says, one could trace the recent mass movements of people in fairly well-defined patterns:  the slave trade, guest workers, colonization.  (A quick look at my photo at the top of this blog reveals a product of several centuries of European immigration to North America.) 

While some vestiges of those old patterns remain (there are still many North Africans in France, for example), “The diversity of paths, and the complexity of forms of migration, have meant that it is now almost impossible to map movement with a series of arrows, on a flat two-dimensional representation of the world.”  There would be so many arrows flowing in so many different directions from north to south, east to west, across borders, across oceans and continents that one would be hard pressed to assemble some order in the chaos. 

Capital today flows at the speed of light and people follow in spite of all the barriers that nation-states still put in their way.  And opportunity or advantage may be just next door, not halfway across the world.  A quick look at the migration patterns in Africa reveal that many more people move within Africa than ever end up in the United States or the European Union.

For the person who fears the competition from immigrant labour or the nation-state that sees its national borders have become permeable (and the raison d’être of the nation-state is to protect its borders), this is a very frightening state of affairs.  Mass uncontrolled movements of people also strike fear in the hearts of well-meaning people who believe that a rational design of the social map and “sedentarization” are pre-requisites for institutions that improve people’s lives, the very foundations of social progress. How do you build national health programs or school systems for people who refuse to stay in one place?

As sympathetic as I am to these arguments, I am firmly on the side of the “people who move around”.  Every migrant sets off on his journey with trépidation and ambivalence.  Economic advantage may be one factor in his decision but it is never the whole story.  He must be willing to face a life far from family, to learn another language, to be a cultural novice and to face hostility and violence.  That people are willing to do this in greater and greater numbers says to me that there is something so fundamentally human in this desire to move, it is virtually unstoppable. 

We must force the government to stop the bird migration. We must shoot all birds, field all our men and troops... and force migratory birds to stay where they are. 
Vladimir Zhirinovsky 

The Elder Frenchling - photo

The elder Frenchling in the garden of the "Blue House" in Seattle, USA (1996)

Choosing a Place - Update

Yesterday the elder Frenchling received her first acceptance letters from two universities in….

Canada.  Québec, to be precise.

Her choice is made.  French-speaking North America is her Third Place.

And this seemed the right moment to relate some family history. 

In the late 17^th (or early 18th) century, one of our ancestors left Normandy for La Nouvelle France.  His descendants settled in the region around Trois Rivières.

After some years in Québec, part of the family left Canada for Wisconsin in the United States.  My great-grandmother, Celestine, was born in Rice Lake to a French-speaking family. 

When Celestine married, she moved West with her husband to farm near the small village of  Naches in the state of Washington.  She had one child, a daughter named Rachel, who moved with her husband across the Cascade mountains to the city of Seattle where she had a daughter named Mary Lou. 

Then, sometime in the last century, Mary Lou had her own daughter (the author of this blog).   This daughter, when she grew up, married a man from France, moved back across the Atlantic and made her home in Paris.  

And now her Frenchling, this child of the 21^st century, will cross the ocean and walk in a place where one of her French ancestors once came looking for a new life in a new world.

Flophouse Favorite #5 - Le Botak Café

I no longer remember when I discovered this little restaurant in the shadow of Montmartre but I've eaten there several times over the years with colleagues.

Photo source:  Internet

For the life of me I can't remember who I was with all the times I went there but they were all Frenchman and I’m sure none of them would appreciate the fact that they were so easily dismissed from my memory. Well, we all have our priorities and, for me, a great dining experience trumps an intelligent good-looking dining companion any day.

All I really remember is the food. Mouth-watering, semi-orgasmic, delicious food. And a lovely location. Go in summer so you can sit in the courtyard.

Le Botak Café

1 Rue Paul Albert
75018 Paris France
Tel : 01 46 06 98 30
Métro Château-Rouge

Flophouse Fun

I think it's time we all took a quick break away from serious subjects.  
To that end, I invite you to take just 10 minutes to savour:

 The Eight Irresistible Principles of Fun 

(in English, French and Spanish) 

from the site, Do More Great Work (Michael Bungay Stanier)