Today, I have seen something that has honestly touched me. Needless to say, it's not hard to strum my heartstrings... but, this specific scenario really did it. As of today, on June 28th of 2003, the Folk Fest has begun in Victoria. I spent the duration of the day down around the Inner Harbor, taking in the sights, socialization, tastes and sounds of many different cultures coming together for a celebration of their wonderful differences. After wandering around, and getting horrendously sun burnt, I settled near a stage; on which, there was to be a presentation of Polynesian dance and song. Something I have never viewed before... but, it was reminiscent of Hawaiian dancing....

Anyhow... after seeking out a place in the shade, I settled down to wait for the show to begin. Not even a moment later, this elderly fellow sauntered along, and sat down near me. I couldn't help but note his appearance, as he was rambling about the heat in his heavily Germanic accent. He had to be in his sixties, or early seventies.... his skin was bronzed and wrinkled, and his hair was wiry and gray, with only a few traces of what used to be blond hair remaining near the roots. He had this really bushy moustache, with a frizzy beard... and he wore an old necklace, made of seashells. His shirt was well worn, but I could make out the image of seagulls and whatnot embroidered upon the face of the white garment. On the left sleeve, it said 'Call of the Wild'. Dark shorts and sneakers, that had likely seen better days, completed the ensemble of what appeared to be an old chap with considerable mileage to his life.

I took special note of his warnings about how umbrella hats give migraines, and how he planned to go to a Speaker's Corner booth to give the organizers of the festivities hell... (About the disturbing absence of shade, on these agonizingly hot days...)

Afterwards, I asked him what he thought of the folk fest, and how he felt about the dance that was soon to be occurring. Immediately, he brightened and expressed his excitement. He was an old sailor, who had likely visited the Cook Islands in the years of his youth. His explanations were romanticized, filled with wistful memories of fresh coconut milk, pigs on spits, and the absence of technological burdens. He spoke to me of the beauty of the dancers, native to that region; how they expressed themselves through song and dance. He could never understand the words, but reminiscent about how the melody penetrated his heart... how it lodged within his memory.

By then, I did not even know his name... but, I sat and listened... even when other people moved away, annoyed by the loudness and joviality of his voice... how he just kept talking. Honestly, the old man would speak up again only a few seconds after going silent... but, you know what...? That didn't bother me... I stayed nearby, and continued listening to this stranger.... I was honestly taken by what he was saying. Perhaps he didn't have many people who would listen...?

Then, he spoke fondly of how he felt while watching the dances... how happy he was. And with such a dance about to be performed, moments ago, he told me that it always brought him to tears. Today would be no exception. He spoke to me that he wanted to go to the Islands, one more time, before he dies. All the while, I was still dumbfounded over how... he was speaking so freely to me. A stranger. A teenager; how some people in my age group were stereotyped as punks or immature cretins by people of this man's age. Am I really that easy to approach or to talk to...? Or, did this old fellow just want someone to listen to what he had to say...?

Then, the dancers came onto the stage. Up he went, moving to the side of the platform to get a good view of the lovely women, clad in brilliant colors and vibrant ornaments. The way he watched... heavens... he was not becoming of an old pervert, but he was really into it. Clapping, dancing, and even tearing up... his weather beaten old face illuminated with such joy; something that I've never seen with such magnitude for a looooong time. I was watching him most of the time, while other people just stood... quietly watching those dancers. He had more life in him than most of the people who were nearby.... more vibrancy than my parents, who also observed with nearly monotonous curiousity. It was then that I realized something....

.... that people really need to embrace life more... to stop, and look at the little things. To peruse their memories, especially those that are moreso simple than the rest. Forget modern life, just for a day... and look at nature. Look at the things we take for granted. Listen to what even the most senile of individuals have to say.

I have learned something, today... and my teacher was a complete stranger.

I hope you get back to those Cook Islands someday, old man. I hope you sip that coconut milk, recline on white sand, and watch those dancers with that same joy that I've seen from you, to this day. I would have listened to you all day, if I could... I honestly would have.

Thank you, so very much.

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"Windsong."
Dean C. Howard.