History deficiency

Fresh Aire VI; Mannheim Steamroller; London Symphony; Cambridge Singers; Chip Davis, composer

I never took a world history class. Not in high school, not in college. In the second grade, Mrs. B. taught a unit on Mexico. She put a big green map on the board and each time we found out something interesting about the country she would let us write it on the map. I don’t remember very much about what we learned, but I suppose it’s important that I remember that she told us that there was a Mexico.

In the fifth grade, Mrs. O. introduced us to each of the fifty states of the United States of America. I did well in that unit. Mom had bought that famous fifty states jigsaw puzzle for my sisters and I where you had to put the states in the right place. K., D. and I were among very few fifth-graders who knew the shape and placement of each state within the boundaries of our country. In the sixth grade, Mrs. O. spent several weeks teaching us about South America; each country, its capital, major cities, population, religion, biggest industry, a little history and various interesting tidbits and sundry statistics.

But as far as world history is concerned, I haven’t a clue. The bits of history that I have acquired over the years hang on a wall in my mind with no rhyme nor reason as to design, formation or chronological order. I don’t know how they relate to, or influence, each other. I suppose I should find a world history book that can shape a sound foundation on which I can rebuild my wall and bring order to chaos in a mosaic fashion, finding the gaps and, in the process, discovering where and how to fill them in.

Royal Cruise Line provided me with most of my travel opportunities. After solidifying my very first travel plans as a cruise ship musician, I acquired an itinerary from a travel agent to see the ports of call that the ship would visit. I saw some big names on that list: Venice, Rome, Monte Carlo, Naples, Barcelona and Athens. The itinerary also noted that the ship’s crew wasn’t so much international as much as it was mostly Greek. We would spend a good part of our time meandering around the islands of Greece.

Greece. Greece. What do I know about Greece? Hmmmmm. Cradle of Civilization. Home of Plato, Socrates and Aristotle. And they have that … big … Acropolis … thingy. And they eat gyros. That’s really pathetic, isn’t it? I wandered around the wonders of Greece in Rhodes, Mykonos, Santorini, Crete, Piraeus, Corfu and Athens. I encountered their culture by virtue of the warm-hearted crew on the ship and through their music. And, yet, walked away knowing essentially nothing significant about their history. In the immortal words of the great American H. Ross Perot, “Now that’s just sad.”

But I have this CD made by an American, Chip Davis, in land-locked Nebraska … I don’t know, maybe across the street from the Nebraska Navy … that captures what we, who live thousands of miles from Greece, would like to imagine as the spirit and essence of Greece and Greek mythology. I suppose this is all akin to Russians, in Russia, tapping into the American experience by listening to their local Dixieland band play sad Russian folk songs. I would say that it’s all Greek to me. Except that I don’t know if it is.

Credits: To Mrs. B. and Mrs. O, for showing us Mexico, the fifty states and South America. My state in our parade of state floats was Vermont. And the capital is Montpelier. I won’t ever forget. I promise.