Tragic Happiness
My childhood was not as happy as everyone thinks No, if you've thought that the relationship between my father and I was always wonderous and loving, you are very much mistaken. It was very much the opposite; and it hurts me until this day to even think about my father, even though I hide it from everyone else, including Erik.
Chapter One: Mama's Death
May her soul and all the souls of the faithful departed, through the mercy of God rest in peace Amen.
The sounds of the priest praying over my mother's dead body which lay peacefully in her casket and the sounds of my father's hysterical weeping still remain fresh in my memory after all these years. I was only seven years old at the time, and I couldn't comprehend what was happening. I was only a child that was dressed up in my best black velvet dress at my first funeral that I have ever attended. Ironically, it was my own mother's and I couldn't even cry one tear. I was so confused. Why were there all these strange people all dressed in black crying? Why was the priest reading funny verses from the Bible? Why was Papa weeping loudly so much? Why isn't Mama here to comfort him? I struggled for answers to all of the above questions that pounded my head at the time, but I could only find the answer to the last question.
As I read the final chapters of Mama's diary, I had learned that Mama wasn't happy with her marriage to Papa. It wasn't her fault. Born and raised as an American citizen, Mama's parents weren't exactly joyous about her decision to marry and live with her new fiance from Sweden. Why should she move about 8,000 miles and an ocean away to a country tucked in a northeastern corner of Europe just so she could settle with a poor travelling violinist? Well, Mama had thought at first that she had met the man of her dreams in poor old Joseph Daae. An unknown, undistinguished musician who made his scanty living off of playing music in the streets, young Katherine Lotte-Garrivson fantasized about his mysterious, tall, barely visible image that slowly played music in the streets of New York by night and the travels he made by day. He would always come back to his affectionate lady, who would wait in the park for him to come and play a slow, sad yet sweet melody especially for her when no one else was around. She seemed so small in his presence, and to her he was like an angel when he played for her. He was her Angel of Music. Naturally, they would flirt around a bit. He at first would barely speak a word but as time changed slowly, he began to reveal more and more of his heavy accent which Katherine adored. As they spoke, they made up a fabrication of fairly tales was created in which they were the characters. She was Litlle Lotte, he was the Angel of Music; and forever they would stay that way. Then mutual affection occured, and the relationship changed and she never wanted him to leave as he would have if she didn't stop him. Before they could marry, the last step Katherine needed to take was to persuade her parents to let her marry Mr. Joseph Daae. It was a hard decision for them to make; Joseph Daae had no living relations, how could they find out if he came from a good family? And they couldn't quite communicate and get to know him, the man could barely speak English! And when he did, all meaning and comprehension was blocked off from his heavy accent. But to break their only daughter's fragile heart and say no.........? The poor girl had her heart completely set on this poverty-stricken foreigner. She was absolutely dazzled and lovestruck! If cupid's arrow had hit her, it must have lodged in her brain somehow. Of course my grandparents acceded to their child's incessant pleading; but I can assure that it was not an easy or arbitrary decision in the least bit. As a closing sentence to one of her diary's entries, she had wrote down that "Joseph was such a perfect European." Perhaps that would have been true, if only he was his same self as when Mama had first met him.
They had married in the spring of 1861, and exacly nine months later, I was born in the fall. Mama and Papa moved to Papa's native Sweden where I grew up for the first few years of my life. I was fine except for the fact that there were two dominant languages in my household, Swedish and American English. I think for a few months when I was just learning how to speak, I must have been bilingual; but of course I wasn't to blame. English slowly began to become the dominant language in the household as Papa began to compromise and realize that English was the only language that Mama could speak, and the only language she probably would ever speak. And so I caught on. Mama brooded over her only child and daughter, just as her parents had done to her. Even though my parents' bank account was nearly empty, they had done well enough to keep a roof over our family's heads and food on the kitchen table. Mama always sacrificed a little bit just to spoil me somewhat because she was so pleased that her only child had turned out to be a daughter, just as she wanted. She had named me Christine, because she thought I was the most beautiful little girl to have entered her life and she felt Christine was just the right feminine name. The name Christine was also a popular English and American name for women so I suppose that also influenced her decision a little bit. Papa on the other hand was not very excited at my birth. He had hoped for a boy, and there I was bundled up in pink blankets with a little bow on the top of my head especially placed there by Mama. I think his attitude slowly became despondent little by little from that point on as hope became bleaker. Soon after my birth, he went back to his old career of travelling in fairs
Four years old and growing up much too fast for Mama and Papa, Mama decided to move us back to America and planned to keep us there near her parents. Once we arrived there, Mama immediately got me a dual citizenship. Papa of course thought it would be absolutely pointless. Why bother to move in the first place? As the years wore by, his fame began to rise as the great violinist Joseph Daae began to emerge once more. He would not leave his career now, not when the time was right to gain the renown to his name that he had worked so hard for for many years, and that would only be possible if he would stay in Europe and continue his travels. But no, Mama had pleaded and pleaded and pleaded and nagged and nagged and nagged until Papa was on the very brink of complete aggravation and eventually gave in. Mama had stressed the fact that she needed to be with her family now that the Civil War had taken the lives of a few of her cousins. She had also tried to tell him that there were a few better educational oppotunities for me, but it wasn't as if Papa cared anything about my schooling. As far as he was concerned, he was to drag me into the musical fair business alongside him to create a father-daughter duo act. Papa believed strongly in the allegation that "Music requires no brains to play" It's rather ironic when I think back about what Papa used to say, and then I think about Erik and his extroadinary genius, and the haunitingly beautiful yet terrorizingly powerful music he played and sang. Of course Papa's opinion didn't matter anymore. We were already in America and Mama had already gotten my citizenship issued. Besides that, we had already moved in my mother's parents large yet modest upper-middle class sized house in Manhattan, located on the city's "cool green outer rim" as it was called.
My childhood was not as happy as everyone thinks No, if you've thought that the relationship between my father and I was always wonderous and loving, you are very much mistaken. It was very much the opposite; and it hurts me until this day to even think about my father, even though I hide it from everyone else, including Erik.
Chapter One: Mama's Death
May her soul and all the souls of the faithful departed, through the mercy of God rest in peace Amen.
The sounds of the priest praying over my mother's dead body which lay peacefully in her casket and the sounds of my father's hysterical weeping still remain fresh in my memory after all these years. I was only seven years old at the time, and I couldn't comprehend what was happening. I was only a child that was dressed up in my best black velvet dress at my first funeral that I have ever attended. Ironically, it was my own mother's and I couldn't even cry one tear. I was so confused. Why were there all these strange people all dressed in black crying? Why was the priest reading funny verses from the Bible? Why was Papa weeping loudly so much? Why isn't Mama here to comfort him? I struggled for answers to all of the above questions that pounded my head at the time, but I could only find the answer to the last question.
As I read the final chapters of Mama's diary, I had learned that Mama wasn't happy with her marriage to Papa. It wasn't her fault. Born and raised as an American citizen, Mama's parents weren't exactly joyous about her decision to marry and live with her new fiance from Sweden. Why should she move about 8,000 miles and an ocean away to a country tucked in a northeastern corner of Europe just so she could settle with a poor travelling violinist? Well, Mama had thought at first that she had met the man of her dreams in poor old Joseph Daae. An unknown, undistinguished musician who made his scanty living off of playing music in the streets, young Katherine Lotte-Garrivson fantasized about his mysterious, tall, barely visible image that slowly played music in the streets of New York by night and the travels he made by day. He would always come back to his affectionate lady, who would wait in the park for him to come and play a slow, sad yet sweet melody especially for her when no one else was around. She seemed so small in his presence, and to her he was like an angel when he played for her. He was her Angel of Music. Naturally, they would flirt around a bit. He at first would barely speak a word but as time changed slowly, he began to reveal more and more of his heavy accent which Katherine adored. As they spoke, they made up a fabrication of fairly tales was created in which they were the characters. She was Litlle Lotte, he was the Angel of Music; and forever they would stay that way. Then mutual affection occured, and the relationship changed and she never wanted him to leave as he would have if she didn't stop him. Before they could marry, the last step Katherine needed to take was to persuade her parents to let her marry Mr. Joseph Daae. It was a hard decision for them to make; Joseph Daae had no living relations, how could they find out if he came from a good family? And they couldn't quite communicate and get to know him, the man could barely speak English! And when he did, all meaning and comprehension was blocked off from his heavy accent. But to break their only daughter's fragile heart and say no.........? The poor girl had her heart completely set on this poverty-stricken foreigner. She was absolutely dazzled and lovestruck! If cupid's arrow had hit her, it must have lodged in her brain somehow. Of course my grandparents acceded to their child's incessant pleading; but I can assure that it was not an easy or arbitrary decision in the least bit. As a closing sentence to one of her diary's entries, she had wrote down that "Joseph was such a perfect European." Perhaps that would have been true, if only he was his same self as when Mama had first met him.
They had married in the spring of 1861, and exacly nine months later, I was born in the fall. Mama and Papa moved to Papa's native Sweden where I grew up for the first few years of my life. I was fine except for the fact that there were two dominant languages in my household, Swedish and American English. I think for a few months when I was just learning how to speak, I must have been bilingual; but of course I wasn't to blame. English slowly began to become the dominant language in the household as Papa began to compromise and realize that English was the only language that Mama could speak, and the only language she probably would ever speak. And so I caught on. Mama brooded over her only child and daughter, just as her parents had done to her. Even though my parents' bank account was nearly empty, they had done well enough to keep a roof over our family's heads and food on the kitchen table. Mama always sacrificed a little bit just to spoil me somewhat because she was so pleased that her only child had turned out to be a daughter, just as she wanted. She had named me Christine, because she thought I was the most beautiful little girl to have entered her life and she felt Christine was just the right feminine name. The name Christine was also a popular English and American name for women so I suppose that also influenced her decision a little bit. Papa on the other hand was not very excited at my birth. He had hoped for a boy, and there I was bundled up in pink blankets with a little bow on the top of my head especially placed there by Mama. I think his attitude slowly became despondent little by little from that point on as hope became bleaker. Soon after my birth, he went back to his old career of travelling in fairs
Four years old and growing up much too fast for Mama and Papa, Mama decided to move us back to America and planned to keep us there near her parents. Once we arrived there, Mama immediately got me a dual citizenship. Papa of course thought it would be absolutely pointless. Why bother to move in the first place? As the years wore by, his fame began to rise as the great violinist Joseph Daae began to emerge once more. He would not leave his career now, not when the time was right to gain the renown to his name that he had worked so hard for for many years, and that would only be possible if he would stay in Europe and continue his travels. But no, Mama had pleaded and pleaded and pleaded and nagged and nagged and nagged until Papa was on the very brink of complete aggravation and eventually gave in. Mama had stressed the fact that she needed to be with her family now that the Civil War had taken the lives of a few of her cousins. She had also tried to tell him that there were a few better educational oppotunities for me, but it wasn't as if Papa cared anything about my schooling. As far as he was concerned, he was to drag me into the musical fair business alongside him to create a father-daughter duo act. Papa believed strongly in the allegation that "Music requires no brains to play" It's rather ironic when I think back about what Papa used to say, and then I think about Erik and his extroadinary genius, and the haunitingly beautiful yet terrorizingly powerful music he played and sang. Of course Papa's opinion didn't matter anymore. We were already in America and Mama had already gotten my citizenship issued. Besides that, we had already moved in my mother's parents large yet modest upper-middle class sized house in Manhattan, located on the city's "cool green outer rim" as it was called.