A FESTIVAL IN NORFOLK
The sun had not yet assumed its commanding position. Darkness reigned as we loaded the van with our instruments and other equipment so that we would begin our journey to Norfolk.
Time was measured in natural terms. A landmark here and there meant that Norfolk was drawing closer. The evergreen trees portended to a familiar route taken by us before; they symbolized a freshness -- a freshness that we hoped to infuse into our music.
Arriving in Norfolk, we proceeded to the church grounds. The "Greek Festival 1986" was underway. Workers were organizing the various exhibits in anticipation of numerous visitors.
The sun was out in full force, combining with the humidity to make for a challenging climate -- a temporary discomfort, for in festivals, everything is bearable but rain and lightning.
We performed for four days. Visitors would come and peer at the instruments, after having sampled the various delicacies. The hellenic culture was presented through sight, smell, taste, and sound. An extra touch was needed -- the spirit needed to come out.
Playing the guitar, piano and drums, we performed the music of Hatzithakis, Spanos, Xarhakos and other composers of the last two decades. People listened, surprised at the variety of music. They clapped, eagerly waiting for the next selections.
Children: a reflection of innocence. There they were, clapping and dancing. Crying infants would stop wailing when carried in front of the stage while we performed. A tranquil medium existed.
By the third day, hundreds of people were passing through the festival by the hour. People came, sat, ate, drank, listened and came to ask questions.
Friendliness abounded. Makis, Georgia, Pete, Eva, Jerry and countless volunteers offered their humor and help. There was a little boy from Bethesda, Maryland, with his grandmother who kept staring at the musicians. Countless others shared their spirits with us.
Dancers from Tarpon Springs, Florida, were present. The Levendia dance troupe colorfully performed numerous dances, each with grace and agility. They added momentum to the occasion. They danced harmoniously to our music, inspiring others to do the same.
Leonidas, Kostas and I performed traditional dance music. The Saturday night visitors were thirsting to express themselves through dance, and they did. One can never tell when this happens. It just happens -- one person after another got up to dance the syrto and kalamatiano. We could not stop playing -- that would have repressed our spirit as well as that of the crowd. We received energy from watching others dance with a zest for life. One song brought forth the next. People looked to us and we looked to them. Emotion had taken over logic at this point. It was the emotion of happiness; logic was unessential.
Sunday evening saw a repetition of Saturday, except that it was more emotional. It was the last day of the festival; we were playing our last set of songs. It was with joy and sadness that we played and finished. Joy because we shared our gift of music with people and the people responded, and sadness because it is always difficult to detach oneself from a joyous occasion.
The moon was full. We loaded the van, said our farewells and headed back to Washington. We carried with us an experience from which we would draw upon for inspiration in the future -- the spirit of music expressed by the people as the spirit of life.
September 17, 1986
Odysseus' Quest 