Lögberg-Heimskringla - 24.01.1997, Side 4

Lögberg-Heimskringla - 24.01.1997, Side 4
4 • Lögberg-Heimskringla • Föstudagur 24, januar 1997 Jestive Season HigMights from Qimli T here is nothing like beginning the Christmas season with an evening full of people walking about the centre of town taking in the sights and making a purchase during the midnight madness sale. Such were the sights on November 29; the “Gimli Country Christmas” events at the Old Public School added to the excitement. Here one could not only sip on hot chocolate, buy a craft or some Icelandic food, but also take in the caroling by the Male Voice Choir as the tree lighting ceremony took place outside. As many as 300 people enjoyed the horse-drawn hayride and many more went inside to hear the school band play. It became impossible to move along the main hall as the crowd awaited Activities for "A Qimli Country Christmas' Andrea cChordarson gets a Santa painting the unveiling of Jerry Johnson’s latest artwork. Having the CBC crew join in all the festivities made sense when one could watch the Continued on page 5 A tribute to Jenny Jonason Continued from page 2 when she told the story of two unexpected guests arriving from Iceland. A taxi delivered them to her door in the early moming. When she leamed that they had not had breakfast, she set about preparing a platter of four eggs, half a pound of bacon, four pieces of toast and a steaming pot of coffee. Inviting her guests into the dining room, she placed the food in the middle of the table. To aunty’s astonishment, one of the ladies grabbed the platter and said, “Bless you my dear, I am just famished.” Without a moment’s hesitation, aunty retumed to the kitchen and prepared a similar platter for her other guest. Perhaps the greatest testament to a person’s life is their children. Son Ray- mond, a civil engineer, recently retired as vice-president of Dominion Bridge in Calgary. Daughter Joan, as a youngster, helped her mother minister to ailing family members. This quite logically led to her pursuing a career as a registered nurse. When Jenny’s health failed, Joan and her husband Hunt McKay provided for Jenny the kind of loving care that she had dispensed so generously in earlier times. Although nobody could accuse me of not being biased, I state with conviction that my cousins, their children and their grandchildren are exemplary people by any standard. They are Jenny’s living Iegacy. As I was drove to my office the day after Jenny’s death, I could not repress a stinging in my eyes. Again, I felt a sense of guilt when I contrasted my reaction to the quiet dignity and pluck with which my 90-year-old mother faced the loss of her beloved sister. On the radio a musicologist explained the stmcture of Beethoven’s symphonies. For Five years no composition of Beethoven was published. People believed that his career had ended. He proved his critics wrong with the release of his Ninth Symphony, “An Ode to Joy” — Beethoven’s tribute to his newly found Uni versal God of love. I thought, how very Unitarian, aunty would like that story. This put me in mind of an incident in the life of Gandhi, a man that Jenny very much admired. A joumalist, having been recalled to England, made a special trip to the Ashram to bid adieu to his long time friend. “You need not have made this arduous trip,” the great man stated, “for wherever you are, a part of you will be in my heart, and similarly, a part of me will be in yours.” As I thought about this moment, it occurred to me that the part of Jenny that is in my heart lives on, un- diminished. So, it seems to me, the spirits of our loved ones must live on. Closing my eyes I visualized a wonderful reunion: A young and beautiful Jenny is greeted by a host of those who hold her in their hearts, who have passed beyond the veil. At the front of the group is Uncle Oli, handsome in his suit and tie, a clean hand outstretched in greeting to his cherished wife. Behind my Uncle are Afi and Amma Péturson; my aunts and Uncle Pétur; my Father and Nephew John. In the background a choir of Angels sing a familiar air. What is it? Ah yes, “An Ode to Joy.” Góða nótt, dear Aunty. Góða nótt. □ XZetters Continued from page 2 Kýrrassa tók ég trú, Traust hefir reynzt mér sú. I flórnum þvífœ ég að standa fyrir náð heilags anda. Another variation of the second line is: Trú þeirri held eg nú. Dr. Sigurður Nordal, most likely correctly, states that K.N. had in mind the title of a booklet published in Akureyri in 1859 entitled “A Manual to Recognize Distinctive Features of Dairy Cows,” widely known as the “Kýrrassabókin.” The translation would then be: “I placed my faith in the manual (Kýrrassabókin),/Abelief that has served me well./I am permitted to stand in the dung channel/by the grace of the Holy Ghost.” An altemate translation of the second line follows: “That faith I hold onto now.” Best wishes to you all for a success- ful 1997. Ninna Campbell Edmonton, AB Icelandic pianist performs Continued from page 1 is both free yet welded together; it rarely makes use of traditional patterns and seems to be controlled by an individual logic.” While she enjoyed the pieces by Mozart and Mendelssohn, including the Twelve Variations on “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star,” our reviewer found the most thrilling part of the program was hearing Tómasson’s Sonata VIII. She says, “The Icelandic-bom pianist found in this piece, and expressed musically, her beloved country’s blue sky, ice-covered high mountains, green meadows and forbid- ding volcanoes. The piece, however short, provided contrasts, varied colours and musical unexpectedness.” Nína-Margrét has just released her first CD, recorded at Digraneskirkja in Kópavogur by the Icelandic recording company Skref. Luckily for us, it included the pieces she played by Mozart and Mendelssohn, of which our reviewer says, “Not only did she render a deep understanding of the spiritual space of both composers, but she gave them a perfect balance between contemplation and emotions, technical exploration and innovative mood.” She goes on to say, “Nína-Margrét demonstrated not only her highly-developed technique, but the dynamism of Mendelssohn’s composition — the language of his soul.” We were fortunate indeed to make the Continued on page 5

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