Skip to main content

on how we are connected: my tamburitzan memory

the last time we were in pittsburgh we had the opportunity to go with my parents and sister to duquesne university to see the tamburitzan history and culture center. it was a pretty cool pilgrimage for me because my grandfather on my dad's side was one of the first members of the duquesne university tamburitzans. the tamburitzans are still around today, much larger than they were in 1937 when my grandfather was a member. they are a song and dance company that specializes in performing folk songs and dances of eastern european countries. being a croatian, my grandfather fit right into this group, playing many of the stringed instruments of croatia and the surrounding cultures. the tamburitzans continue to tour today, and to find out more about them, check out their website here.





here he is in the above picture; he is in the middle on the top row. he passed away when i was 3, so i don't remember him much, but i have certainly heard many stories about him, and have always loved his love of music. and so going to this little tamburitzan 'museum' and seeing his picture on the wall and his name all over the place was a really satisfying experience.
while i was there i had the strange sensation that i had been there before as a child. i remembered the large room, and i remember lots of people being there, including my grandma and my cousin, karen. no one else remembers this, although karen seems to think it might be possible that we were there with grandma. but no one else can verify this.
was i there? or was it some elaborate deja vu? i don't know, but i felt very connected in that moment. i'm not sure what i was connected to, other than an unknown past. what i do know is that we are all connected to our mothers and fathers, our grandmothers and grandfathers; connected with invisible ties beyond our knowing. we follow them in our genes; we mimic them in our dna; we relive them in history.
in one sense, we are all connected, you and me. we breathe each other all the time. our skin keeps falling off all over the place and becoming the dust and detritis that fills our lungs. you are part of me, there's no denying that. and yet, the connection we have to our forebears is different; it is more than dust in the lungs. it is the very spark of life that animates these ashen bodies. it is the spirit that moves us. we are ourselves, yes, but these selves are no selves if they are not also some sum of what has gone before, what has led to this very moment, this very you. i am nothing if i am not made by those who have gone before. all my choices are mine, i choose to believe, but all my self is not. i am yours. i am jack's. i am oprah's. and i am, in some spiritual way, grandpa's.
shared,
greg.

Comments

cathyq said…
Greg, Grandpa Vich would be so pround of you for sure. He did love music and was certainly gifted in that area, but he also had so many other qualities that made him a complex, funny, and endearing man. You remind me of him in more ways than one! He had a great sense of humor, somewhat ornery, and hearty laugh with a twinkle in his eyes. He was a bit of a packrat, and he was not overly fond of "cleaning" out his personal areas. When he passed, I rememeber the boys talking about going through his desk at work and how much "stuff" was in there and how really messy(dirty) it was! And yet, he was orderly in every other aspect of his life including his relationships and certainly his business. He loved his family, was proud of their accomplishments, stood up for them when others criticized, and yet demanded that they put forth their best efforts at all times. Something he himself embodied. I didn't know him for long, but the little time we spent together I felt his support, love, and acceptance into a family that wasn't very welcoming toward me to say the least. So, all of this is just to say, that the connection between you and Michael Andrew Milinovich Sr. is not only strong but obvious. You carry his mannerisms, gifts, and humor in you.

Popular posts from this blog

#thoughtsandprayers

i made these comments and prayed the following prayer at one of our worship services at SPWF yesterday, and had a few folks asked if i would post them, so there they are: 
It has been a season of terrible tragedy.  And I have noticed in the news a trending phrase: thoughts and prayers.  It even has its own hashtag on twitter and other social media, but net necessarily in a good way.  People are understandably tired of hearing about others’ thoughts and prayers, when that is only a thinly-veiled way of saying that our only obligation to those who suffer is a brief moment of silence, or nothing more than a tweet or public statement.  The truth is that, for those of us who follow Jesus, much is required when our neighbors suffer.  We are called to do justice where we can, to love kindness and mercy, and to walk with God through it all.  But let us be careful not to throw out the proverbial baby with the bathwater.  We are, as people of faith, those who know that prayer is not simply an em…

a divided tree

there is a tree in my back yard.  i'm pretty sure it's an oak tree.  at least that's what i think Shannon told me.  i don't know my oaks from my maples, my elms from my locusts.  to me, it's a tree: a corinthian column bursting up into life and glory.  full of sap and pulp and rings and bugs and cells pulsing with water and always reaching for something.  it is full of rhythm, reach and flourish then fall and die, and repeat. 

this particular tree, though, isn't of one mind. 

half of it's rusted orange leaves have given up their grip and surrendered -gracefully or not - to the pull of gravity and the threat of winter.  the north side of this inauspicious oak is just about bare naked, all sticks and straight lines, a skeleton of itself.  but the side that looks south is stubbornly resisting change.  no longer green, the leaves have compromised their summer vibrancy, but they are clearly not ready to concede death just yet. 

i feel like i can relate to this …

vote. and pray. but do not be afraid (the King is alive).

i'm not sure how many americans right now are feeling optimistic about the government.  i know i'm not.  in fact, while i didn't live through the civil war or anything, i have to think that faith in our elected leaders - indeed the whole system of electing them in the first place - is at one of its lowest points.  i just don't have a great deal of confidence in those individuals who have been elected, or in those who want to be.  i find myself slipping at times into what feels like a swamp of apathy: sinking, to be sure, but not sure that i care enough anymore to do much about it.  i see this attitude all around me: in conversations, on social media, and in popular culture.  perhaps there is no more clear indication of our nation's view of the government than this current election season, when we would teeter on electing liars and thieves, crooks and clowns. 

which is why i was so startled as i sat down to read psalm 72 this morning. as i read the ancient song, i…