Today I didn't sing. Today she sang. Hoje foi ela que cantou.

Today we celebrated the once a month Portuguese Community Lunch (O Almoço à Portuguesa, for those in the know) at Maximo's. O Sr. Pereira served "Cozido à Portuguesa", a combination of a half-dozen meats, carrots, cabbage, etc., which, when assembled properly, tastes as though a drop of heaven came down in the form of a cookbook and landed right on the kitchen counter. He made it, and it was good.

As the meal commenced, my daughter and her friend were busy playing and having a good time as any 6 or 7 year olds will do. She stopped cold when the "pastéis de bacalhau" (cod croquettes) arrived at the table. Then her Luso side kicked in and she was swept away, awash in "papá, this is tão bom!", chewing happily on half the pastel, and handing the other half to me to finish off (she likes only the ends, because apparently they're fresher). Her devoration of the chouriço, frango, bife, and (what makes for a happy papá) cenouras, would have made even Goya's Saturn jealous (and probably wishing he had made some better choices in that regard, I might add). My daughter generally opts for the most hot-dog-looking piece of food on or near the table; today the profoundness of that difference came upon me as though it were the anvil torn asunder by a feather (uma asa de pássaro a voar).

After a while she asked me if I was going to sing. Since May of 2013 I have been singing Fado at the local Portuguese restaurants. It is a relatively new (c. 250) year old musical form found in two places in Portugal, Lisbon and Coimbra. The music of the former, in 2002, drew me into the world of the Portuguese language and the people of Lisboa; that of the latter would have required me to find several dozen students with "guitarras", something I have neither the time nor frequent rail pass to do. It may seem out of place to some that, of all possible outcomes, I would have materialized as a Jew-ish Hispanist learning to sing Fado (I'll get to the first term of that statement in a future blog). I can remember it vividly: I was driving and listening to a CD of music from Portugal. I had bought it out of curiosity and a very odd instinct that somehow it was the best idea possible to learn something about this neighbor of Spain I had heard about infrequently from conversations my Brazilian friends were having (in Portuguese, no less, which at the time I could not speak). After a few minutes I heard this:

Foi por vontade de Deus,
Que eu vivo nesta ansiedade;
Que todos os "ais" são meus
Que é toda a minha saudade...
Foi por vontade de Deus ...

I had to pull over from the tears. I also had no concept of what she was singing. Amália has that way with her voice, the ability to draw out Fado's spirit of longing for that thing you have had yet also never had (so, the "saudade" you feel deep within your heart -it doesn't really matter what about-) in the listener, even when that listener has never heard Fado before. It was at that moment I realized I needed to learn this language and this music; I spent a week, 8 hours a day, pouring over a CD and book for European Portuguese. By the time I returned to campus after that Spring Break was over I could speak at the Intermediate level. By 2004 I was at the Superior level and preparing to marry the woman I met in Lisbon... Ever since then I have counted myself among the happily hybridized selves running amok in academia.

In an average night I'll sing "O Rouxinol da Ribeira", "Fado Português" (which, by the way, sounds good whether you are Amália or not), "Casa da Mariquinhas", and three or four other tunes. Many times I will sing alongside my colleague and friend Sara, a professional fadista whose vocal talent I can only hope to reach. The uniqueness of the show is not only that an "americano" would sing Fado, but that there are not "guitarristas" in the Atlanta metro (and if there are, please let me know). The entire show is a cappella.

The reason I told her I wouldn't, an answer which from the look on her face she didn't expect, had two principle motives. The first, I had already eaten. Anyone who sings at all knows it is a very bad idea to sing just after eating. The second, and more important reason, ... I've already said.

Boa noite a todos / good night, everyone / buenas noches a todos :)