If You, Like Me (2)

If you, like me had a lifelong dream come true in one fell swoop, what would you do?

Last Thursday, my novel Love in the Shadow of Mao, published by Austin Macauley Ltd, was launched in grand style at a bookshop in Belfast.  Despite an unexpected snow storm, it was extremely well attended.  I read a bit from various sections and there was a lively Q and A.  Lots of people bought multiple copies to give to friends and a few even brought me a celebratory bottle of champagne.

Anyway, what did I do?  I enjoyed it.  Every minute.  And it was a double pleasure in that my son, Peter, who has been living in the States for many years, was able to join me. 

My cup wasn’t only running over, it was splashing on the ground.

Of course this wasn’t my first published work.  When I was at primary school the United Nations was formally inaugurated in New York.  To mark the day, school children were asked to submit a celebratory poem.  Mine was printed on the front page of my school magazine.

The world would be a happy place

If every child of every race

Black or brown or white or yellow

Played together as a fellow.

An All-City-Children’s Chorus had been assembled and I was part of it. We were to sing the songs specially written to mark the day by composer Irving Ceasar. There were several rehearsals in a hall in Manhattan for which we children were each given a quarter, twenty-five cents, for our subway fare home (then, a nickel or five cents).  On the morning of the dress rehearsal, we were awarded the lordly sum of a new crisp one-dollar bill. I followed the others, older and more sophisticated than I, to a local fast-food restaurant for lunch before curtain-up where, like the others, I ordered a hot dog and ‘coffee’, very daring as I was not allowed coffee at home.  I had a new dress for the occasion and a pair of Mary Janes, black patent leather shoes with straps, not laces.  This also was a departure from parental rules. I was full of myself and not even flustered when told to sit on the composer’s knee for a photograph. We assembled on the stage behind the curtain and since I was the smallest, I was put in the first row.  All was wonderful.  There I was in my new dress on the stage of the City Center Theatre, one of the largest in New York.  My parents were out front with a few aunts and uncles as well.  A great day.

Then the curtain rose and beyond the glare of the footlights I could see row upon row of balconies.  Thousands of people!  In the boxes on the side were the assembled delegates to the United Nations, many in their national costumes. 

The orchestra started up and on cue the other children began the first number.  I was struck dumb.  I opened my mouth and nothing came out. For many seconds, maybe minutes, maybe hours, I was struck dumb.  What would my mother say?  What would the Director say?  Then I recovered myself, smiled and sang my heart out.  I sang for all the children in the world who would be as happy as I was now that the United Nations was here to look after us all.

 

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