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    I grew up in a home where mostly jazz was washed the walls of our flat., jazz without vocals, without words, with loads of bop but no ditty.  That and what was to me then a stream of dull talk radio voices.  I had no idea what radio Pacifica was although I believe my parents had made some noises about peace and news. In other words, for a child, boring on top of boring.  There was no music, but jazz with a dash of European classical, usually done MJQ style.  When we finally moved to a house it seemed the record collection grew with the space, or maybe it was just that I had aged enough to do my own digging and find the jewels of my own.  I remember a cover with Frank Sinatra on it, although I can’t say I remember actually hearing it, I must have.  I remember Harry Belafonte and learning the words to every sone on the album starting with ”Banana Boat.” I remember finding Arthur Prysock reciting “This Is My Beloved” and falling in love with his voice as well as the ideas of love and love lost buried in those verses.  I remember Dinah Washington and Nina Simone and Mama Africa, Miriam Makeba.  How many hours I spent trying, and failing,  to make that click in the back of my throat. (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OHxkiXALQjU)  Her voice was sinuous and strong and she had in her manner a kind of majesty that made me want to embrace Africa. She would explain the meanings of the songs before she sang but I really didn’t care.  The language was magical and made me go to places I could barely imagine.

     Alice Walker talks of us all as running a relay race.  She says Miriam did her job with grace and honor and has moved on.  That is all each of us can do, Walker says, run our part in the relay race.  But I am not sure that life is a race and I am not sure that the songs that breathed with Miriam Makeba were something that she just carried for her time and then gave up.  She was a beacon not just of the true South Africa but of a woman who stood for justice and sang it, an exile who revered home and revolution, freedom and love. (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Miriam_Makeba)  She sang one last concert and then died in Italy two days ago.  One can one do but listen and remember and be glad that although her spirit has flown to wherever spirts fly her voice remains to nourish us and our children.