[This post is dated 1-20-20 only for chapter sequence. Back to Chapter 9.]
What is the most popular song known around the world?
Hint #1: The song was written more than a hundred years ago.
Hint #2: The original song writers, two sisters, sold the rights to this song for only $250.
Hint #3: Over the past 20 years, the copyright holders, made millions of dollars each year by charging royalties for any public performance of this song.
Hint: #4: Only in 2017 did courts determine that this song was in “public domain,” meaning no one can charge anyone royalties for using the song. (In fact, for about two decades, public restaurants began singing their own version of this song to customers rather than pay the royalties.)
Before I tell you the answer to the above question, let me share another happy song sung on a happy occasion that strangely puts a lump in my throat whenever I hear it: "Auld Lang Syne."
Was there ever a happier song and a happier ending to a movie? Why then does it put a lump in my throat ? Because the scene transcends the song. The "old acquaintances that should never be forgot" are there on the screen. All but Zuzu have passed away. I remember as a kid staying up with our parents and grandparents and even a great grandpa when Guy Lumbardo or Lawrence Welk helped ring in the New Year. Now I'm the grandpa in the room. Maybe that's it. Whatever the cause, I confess that "Auld Lang Syne" touches something deep inside me that blurs my eyes even as I now type these words.
Back in Chapter Nine, there is a letter that Enoch's father wrote to him mother while he was in prison. In it, he says, "You just take care of our sons and our home. [Enoch’s] birthday is on Nov. 17 and should be celebrated. Buy his favorite cheesecake and share with [his borther]. Wish him well on my behalf." Then at the end of another chapter, I wrote: "Enoch did not see his mother cry upon reading this letter, but the letter mentions something that Enoch would later call a small miracle. And it was that miracle that brought the tears first to Enoch's eyes and then to his mother's."
By November, 2016, Enoch's father had been in prison for eleven months. He had not seen him for nearly a year. Phone calls could not be made into the prison, but on rare occasions the prison warden would allow prisoners to make phone calls out. The times of the calls were not of the prisoners' choosing. The privilege may or may not be extended every-other week. Sometimes there were longer gaps between.
When Enoch's mother received that touching letter (Chapter 11), she shared it with the disbanded church family which had continued to meet in many different homes around the city. (The letter was also translated and discreetly shared with an American advocacy organization, which is how we have an English version three years later.) And so it was that about thirty ladies in Enoch's church gather together in his apartment home to surprise him on his 15th Birthday upon his return from school. Many of them had brought "his favorite cheesecake" (the one his father had mentioned)--so much so that the sheer quantity of cheesecake they had that night and for the next week to follow caused it to fall from his favorite dessert list.
When he walked into the 4th floor apartment, he felt like he was walking into the Women's Mission Society with a party already in progress. Never had so many people--let alone ladies--been in that small space. His little brother was somewhere in the mix, but Enoch could not see him. It was quite overwhelming so he did what any red-bloodedAmerican strike that--Chinese boy would do. He greeted all the happy faces politely while he snaked his way through the crowd to the sanctity of his bedroom, which he was pleased to see unoccupied. Door closed, he sat on the edge of his bed eating cheesecake and wondering how long this birthday party would last. And then a knock came at his door.
It was one of the church ladies, "Enoch," she said, "Come quickly."
Like any fifteen-year-old boy under such circumstances, he did not come quickly but followed the lady with a bit of caution, but to his amazement, the ladies had involuntarily formed a gauntlet of smiles waving him along to the far side of the room where his mother stood facing the corner for a pretense of privacy and holding her cellphone to her ear.
"The call is for you," a voice said as he passed, and then his mother turned and held out the phone to him. "It's your father," she half whispered, "It's a miracle."
Enoch made his "shock face," and then cleared his throat and said, "Hello?"
The room was silent so he could hear what must have been a string of happy sentences. His head nodded and unseen smiles beamed toward an empty wall. When finally made some small talk about school and cheesecake and the crowded room. The miracle his mother mentioned was the fact that he did not request to call home on that very night, his son's birthday. Based on his treatment and the various degrees of spite that colored his days, he knew such a request would have fallen on deaf ears--in fact, it may have produced the opposite result. As he dialed the number, he knew it was his son's birthday, but he had no idea how such a divine gift had been delivered to him. Soon his father was told their time was up, and Enoch made a request he had never made before or since.
He turned his face away from the crowded room and asked, "Father, will you sing 'Happy Birthday' to me?"
In telling me this story, Enoch paused to say, "This was a strange thing for me to ask my father. My mother has a beautiful voice. She is the piano player at our church, and she sings often. My father sings often his favorite songs, but he does not have so beautiful a voice as my mother. So I don't know why I asked him to do this but he tried his best.
"Is it the same song we sing in America?" I asked.
"Yes. Same song; same tune, and he began to sing. You know it repeats. He sang first 'happy birthday to you,' then second, then half way through the third time, his voice quivers with each word and then right before he says 'Dear Enoch...' he started to cry but still tried to sing through tears. I had never heard my father cry, and it made me cry, but he kept singing with words and cry. My mother saw me crying and put her ear next to phone to hear the end of the song with me, and she started crying. We were all three crying. It was a very sad kind of happy. I could not talk. My mother tried to talk. And then a voice on the phone said 'time's up' and he was gone. My mother and I just stood there in front of all those ladies. None of them cried. They just stood there staring until my mother could thanked them for coming and told me to thank them, but my face was wet. I had tissue at my nose. I just nodded like 'thank you' but did not want to talk. Pretty soon there was only my grandmother, my mother, my brother and lots of cheesecakes left in the room."
As is often true when Enoch shares a vivid memory, he paints a story-picture that I see so clearly my eyes blur. I just sat there at our kitchen table until I had to wipe my eyes with my napkin.
"And that is the miracle of my 15th Birthday," he smiled.
I sniffled a bit, smiled back, and we both exhaled in unison.
What is the most popular song known around the world?
Hint #1: The song was written more than a hundred years ago.
Hint #2: The original song writers, two sisters, sold the rights to this song for only $250.
Hint #3: Over the past 20 years, the copyright holders, made millions of dollars each year by charging royalties for any public performance of this song.
Hint: #4: Only in 2017 did courts determine that this song was in “public domain,” meaning no one can charge anyone royalties for using the song. (In fact, for about two decades, public restaurants began singing their own version of this song to customers rather than pay the royalties.)
Before I tell you the answer to the above question, let me share another happy song sung on a happy occasion that strangely puts a lump in my throat whenever I hear it: "Auld Lang Syne."
But this chapter is not about "Auld Land Syne." It is about the song "Happy
Birthday."
What, you may be wondering, could possibly be sad about the happiest song sung 'round the world? Read on...
What, you may be wondering, could possibly be sad about the happiest song sung 'round the world? Read on...
Back in Chapter Nine, there is a letter that Enoch's father wrote to him mother while he was in prison. In it, he says, "You just take care of our sons and our home. [Enoch’s] birthday is on Nov. 17 and should be celebrated. Buy his favorite cheesecake and share with [his borther]. Wish him well on my behalf." Then at the end of another chapter, I wrote: "Enoch did not see his mother cry upon reading this letter, but the letter mentions something that Enoch would later call a small miracle. And it was that miracle that brought the tears first to Enoch's eyes and then to his mother's."
By November, 2016, Enoch's father had been in prison for eleven months. He had not seen him for nearly a year. Phone calls could not be made into the prison, but on rare occasions the prison warden would allow prisoners to make phone calls out. The times of the calls were not of the prisoners' choosing. The privilege may or may not be extended every-other week. Sometimes there were longer gaps between.
When Enoch's mother received that touching letter (Chapter 11), she shared it with the disbanded church family which had continued to meet in many different homes around the city. (The letter was also translated and discreetly shared with an American advocacy organization, which is how we have an English version three years later.) And so it was that about thirty ladies in Enoch's church gather together in his apartment home to surprise him on his 15th Birthday upon his return from school. Many of them had brought "his favorite cheesecake" (the one his father had mentioned)--so much so that the sheer quantity of cheesecake they had that night and for the next week to follow caused it to fall from his favorite dessert list.
When he walked into the 4th floor apartment, he felt like he was walking into the Women's Mission Society with a party already in progress. Never had so many people--let alone ladies--been in that small space. His little brother was somewhere in the mix, but Enoch could not see him. It was quite overwhelming so he did what any red-blooded
It was one of the church ladies, "Enoch," she said, "Come quickly."
Like any fifteen-year-old boy under such circumstances, he did not come quickly but followed the lady with a bit of caution, but to his amazement, the ladies had involuntarily formed a gauntlet of smiles waving him along to the far side of the room where his mother stood facing the corner for a pretense of privacy and holding her cellphone to her ear.
"The call is for you," a voice said as he passed, and then his mother turned and held out the phone to him. "It's your father," she half whispered, "It's a miracle."
Enoch made his "shock face," and then cleared his throat and said, "Hello?"
The room was silent so he could hear what must have been a string of happy sentences. His head nodded and unseen smiles beamed toward an empty wall. When finally made some small talk about school and cheesecake and the crowded room. The miracle his mother mentioned was the fact that he did not request to call home on that very night, his son's birthday. Based on his treatment and the various degrees of spite that colored his days, he knew such a request would have fallen on deaf ears--in fact, it may have produced the opposite result. As he dialed the number, he knew it was his son's birthday, but he had no idea how such a divine gift had been delivered to him. Soon his father was told their time was up, and Enoch made a request he had never made before or since.
He turned his face away from the crowded room and asked, "Father, will you sing 'Happy Birthday' to me?"
In telling me this story, Enoch paused to say, "This was a strange thing for me to ask my father. My mother has a beautiful voice. She is the piano player at our church, and she sings often. My father sings often his favorite songs, but he does not have so beautiful a voice as my mother. So I don't know why I asked him to do this but he tried his best.
"Is it the same song we sing in America?" I asked.
"Yes. Same song; same tune, and he began to sing. You know it repeats. He sang first 'happy birthday to you,' then second, then half way through the third time, his voice quivers with each word and then right before he says 'Dear Enoch...' he started to cry but still tried to sing through tears. I had never heard my father cry, and it made me cry, but he kept singing with words and cry. My mother saw me crying and put her ear next to phone to hear the end of the song with me, and she started crying. We were all three crying. It was a very sad kind of happy. I could not talk. My mother tried to talk. And then a voice on the phone said 'time's up' and he was gone. My mother and I just stood there in front of all those ladies. None of them cried. They just stood there staring until my mother could thanked them for coming and told me to thank them, but my face was wet. I had tissue at my nose. I just nodded like 'thank you' but did not want to talk. Pretty soon there was only my grandmother, my mother, my brother and lots of cheesecakes left in the room."
As is often true when Enoch shares a vivid memory, he paints a story-picture that I see so clearly my eyes blur. I just sat there at our kitchen table until I had to wipe my eyes with my napkin.
"And that is the miracle of my 15th Birthday," he smiled.
I sniffled a bit, smiled back, and we both exhaled in unison.
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