Visitors to Japan encounter one of humanity’s most complex
and fully articulated cultures. Japanese traditions in language and literature,
arts and crafts, cuisine and architecture, social mores and performance have been defined and shaped through centuries of continuous practice, and all
continue to have growing edges as long and keen as a Samurai sword’s. Japanese
social and cultural sophistication may put off some visitors, but for most of
us, that is precisely why we’re here!
It should come as no surprise, then, that lullabies—komoriuta—form a longstanding musical
genre in Japan. The brilliant (and physically challenged) New Orleans
journalist-turned-Japanase-folklorist, Lafcadio Hearn, collected a lullaby
(from Izumo province, in the early twentieth century, about a baby sleeping)
that parallels the lyrics to the song we wrote below.
The lullaby that Jan and I wrote to commemorate our stay in
Japan is a living part of the komoriuta
tradition. Here’s the very moving back story:
At Bokko Birth Center in Takamatsu, I witnessed a
very tender moment that Jan had with a grandmother and her baby. The grandmother, Taeko
Watanabe (an English teacher), was learning from Jan some games to play with
her daughter’s month-old baby. In the course of their conversation it was
revealed that Ms. Watanabe’s husband had died a month before the baby was born.
Naturally, she was still grieving this loss, even as she was
overjoyed about the birth of her new granddaughter. Jan helped Ms. Watanabe learn
about a baby’s increased crying at two weeks of age—a normal development that the
grandmother had interpreted as the baby’s crying for her lost grandfather.
Jan
suggested to Ms. Watanabe, a Christian, that in America some people think that
when babies look away from their caregivers (another normal newborn behavior)
they are "watching angels."
This observation deeply touched the Japanese grandmother,
and she had a little cry and hug with Jan. Right after that moment, Ms. Watanabe
spontaneously launched into singing a lullaby—not having heard, yet, that
lullabies are a special interest of mine. Her voice caught with emotion as the camera rolled.
I could not NOT base my Japanese lullaby on this touching
experience. The melody Ms. Watanabe sang sounded familiar, and with a little
Internet research I discovered that it was written by Franz Schubert. Our
nursing professor friend, Kimie Tanimoto, confirmed that this song is, indeed,
one of the most common Japanese lullabies. Ms. Watanabe later sent me the
Japanese lyrics (in romaji characters), and she gave permission to use her
recording.
My arrangement of this song (see it below) starts
with Ms. Watanabe’s version of the Schubert lullaby (in Japanese, of course).
She took some liberties with the melody, and chose her own key; both changes I preserved. Then, after a father-friendly key change, three verses in English
follow, which Jan and I wrote.
The Japanese babies we met, and whom Jan got to work with, possessed remarkable powers to calm themselves and to focus on objects or faces. Dr.
Brazelton had observed the same phenomenon when he worked in Japan in the
1980s. The lullaby lyrics we wrote reflect the capabilities of a baby—so
reassuring to a loving parent, or a grieving grandmother—and also tell the
story of birth in a Japanese setting (based on the birth that Jan attended).
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