Who Is Your "Schoner Stern"?

Who Is Your Schoner Stern?

Imagine the Choir Conductor having his choir of old-agers still singing such songs as Mein Schoner Stern, The Man I love, Someday My Prince Will Come, ... which they enjoy as though they were teen-agers and sing it even in a church service. He said these songs are Solomon’s Songs of this age.

No composer composes the Song Of Solomon, which are love songs, into music, no pastor dared to preach it.

“I  now can sing Mein Schoner Stern by heart” said Opa Johan’s wife happily.

“Who is your Schoner Stern?” Opa Johan whispered. Then he offered her his cheeks to be kissed.

“You’re really a scoundrel” she said “indignently”.

So when you want to know what Schoner Stern means you can find the English version in You Tube and hear the beautiful music of R. Schumann.

February 2012

Something Special In Adelaide I Remember

Something Special In Adelaide I Remember

I wrote my thoughts in a small pocket note book at that time. I thought, instead of a letter I would send a good friend a package, while on the inside of  its wrapping paper I would write my thoughts randomly as decoration and ornaments as a child’s writing and drawing in its drawing book. Besides, thoughts always remain the same, written on wrapping paper or in a book  It would be wonderful whenever he would notice it which would make him more eager to read and see them.

Later have I them written on open places at the back, borders, edges of my concert’s program. That was my way of sharing my thoughts then.

When I once visited Adelaide many years ago, I was surprised when after travelling in a city’s bus I noticed wonderful thoughts on the back of the ticket. I was grateful for the ride, but this was an invaluable gift. Thank you.

February 2012

Were I As Rich As A Rockefeller

Were I As Rich As A Rockefeller

Exasperated, as I couldn’t publish my writings in a magazine, news paper. That was just some fifty years ago. I was then day-dreaning to hang my writings anonymously on gas balloons and have them flowing, flying in the wind for someone to find and read them. 

But to day there’s no need to publish them that way. I have pulished my writings, pictures, recordings through my blogs, Picasa Web albums and You Tube, which are far, far better, visited by readers, viewers in so many countries in the world. I don’t care to publish them in a magazine, newspaper, book  now. 

But the thought dawned on me were I as rich as a Rockefeller, to hang on my balloons ten-dollar notes and cheques of thousand  dollars instead and fly them all over the country. 

Shoot them! What fun. Ha.ha.

February 2012

"Little Fool"

“Little Fool”

Opa Johan never “honey”-ed nor “darling”-ed his wife. It’s so commonplace, sentimental, he said. Instead, he cuddled, fondled his wife with “little fool” which sounds so endearing, so close, so delicately teasing, as sweet as a stolen kiss.

February 2012

Dew Drops

Dew drops

The dew drops were so captivating as thousands of diamonds, of thousands fascinating tiny suns, glittering, shining on small grass patches in the sunlight along a quiet, wide, open, sandy pathway and a rivulet with fish in so clear water, so near beside. That was when I travelled on my bike in Kapuk about 60 years ago.

How fresh, how clean as I washed my hands, cooled, wetted my face with dew after running in the country and delightedly stepped bare foot on it. I remember Chinese families in former times gathered dew from fragrant flowers and treated this water for their special scented tea. 

How I wish I could capture them, so you could see it live in You Tube. But to day you almost don’t see dew anymore in Jakarta, yet am I still happy as I succeeded to capture, though only a few dew drops, not so dazzling in the shade.

February 2012

Dew Drops

Are You Alone?

Are You Alone?

“I met a woman at the Saguling Dam you know” said Opa Johan to his wife. “She asked me:

‘Are you a runner?’ seeing me, a scarecrow wearing my sport’s outfit.

‘Sure, I am, but I never did run this far.’ I said.

‘Are you alone?’  She was surprised, she thought I was single, driving a car that far. That’s the greatest honor when a woman respects, regards you as a man, even though you’re an old scarecrow, you know. A sport’s outfit makes one, me look younger. If  you’d come in a Mercy with a nurse,  she would pity, scorn you as a wealthy, feeble, decrepit old man in rich attire. That’s the worst thing for a man  when a woman regards him as not a man, but as a piece of wood, empty air. Ha. Ha.

 ‘No, there’s someone with me.’  I said.

That’s the nice thing. She didn’t  know who it was. She might think that I’m still able to drive a car and take you with me but it was our son, not you, little fool.

“Aren’t you proud of your husband? So now, kiss me, I deserve it.” 

February 2012

Just As A Little Candle

Just As A Little Candle

“I saw a mother fashionably dressed went out of her house, a mansion with two little children stepping into the Mercedes. I imagined her husband who was driving the car, to be a very wealthy man that he could win her, the children perhaps, were taught in an international school. That certainly was his pride, his success. I picture myself a cold welcome awaiting me if I ever visited her in shorts on a bike, ha, ha. Then another man and another woman some thirty years ago came to my mind.” Opa Johan said to his wife.

“I went in. It was dark in the little room and sat before a desk before the man who was in charge to provide for my new identity card and I filled in our family data as we moved in to another house. He doesn’t seem to be very healthy.”

“After having finished my papers I turned home and was struck as his wife entered, a beautiful angel with a lovely voice. As a little candle her appearance suddenly lit up the room, the life of this man. How happy, how rich he must be with such a good angel beside him as he could never afford to ‘buy’ himself such a lovely creature and provide a mansion for her.”

“How loving she must be to love that man despite such poor living conditions. Which man would you choose?” he whispered.

There was a silence.

“Me! Dear little fool.” So said Opa Johan.

October 2008

February 2012