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October 7, 1982 (30)

Tag: English 1981 ← Please click here.
Tag: English 1982 ← Please click here.
Tag: English 1983 ← Please click here.
Other English Version ← Please click here.


b0071688_15112246.jpg


October 7,

I jump into a taxi.
A hairdresser I went to yesterday gave me an awful haircut, and now I can’t fix this puffed up hair by myself. Bah, nothing to do now, in for a penny in for a pound, as they say.
I hear the voice of my late mother. She is saying something like, “If you go to Buffalo, you can find surprising things there.”

After waiting for quite a while in the embassy in Buffalo, it’s finally my turn. The person before me got a visa he wanted, and is jumping around like a madman. I wonder if I will be like that?

I am explaining to a female immigration officer: “I was working for the law office of my older sister preparing for the bar examination. However, I came to Canada with the objective to study music. I am covering my current life expenses with the money I saved while working.”
“You have been in Canada on tourist visa for quite a while now.”
“Yes. On the one hand, I like Canada very much, and on the other, no matter how much time passed Glenn Gould was not meeting me. That is why I decided to come here and study in his old school.”

So, during the interview at the immigration office I ended up lying. That was because I got the following advice, “In Western societies it is unimaginable that a fragile younger sister of your age lives thanks to the support from her older sister so you shouldn’t say that. If you say something like that, they will no doubt think you’re working in Canada.”

“Glenn Gould?” murmurs the female immigration officer.
“ I think I saw his name in the newspapers the other day. Now I think of it… he died, didn’t he? Wait here for a minute. I will go and bring that newspaper.”
“What? He’s dead?”


In the newspapers she gave me, there is a big photo of Gould.

b0071688_1213845.jpg


I got completely confused and awfully upset.

“What? You didn’t know?”
“No, I didn’t.”

“Your visa has expired 7 days ago. Where on earth were you during that time?”
“They wouldn’t give me a seven-day visa at the immigration office in Toronto. When I made a phone call here I was instructed to leave Canada, so I spent a week in the Niagara Falls City in the United States.

It seems that my honesty was appreciated. The stern expression on the immigration officer’s face softened.
She said, “I will grant you the student visa.”
This is how I got my long-coveted student visa.


I am walking towards the bus depot (a bus stop) and crying out loud. I can’t wipe my tears because of two bags I am carrying.
Horrible, horrible! I am shocked beyond words.
Gould is not in Toronto anymore.
I cannot believe that!

To a person at the bus stop asking me “Why are you crying so much?” I respond, “A friend of mine died.” I am writing a letter to my family in Japan while waiting for a bus.

Gould is no longer in this world…
What is the point of going back to Toronto when Glenn Gould is no longer there?
While tears are pouring down my face I am reviving the moments of my life spent with Gould, reviving all the time I spent longing for him.

I wrote to the New York office of the Columbia Records and asked if they could give me Gould’s address, adding to the letter exquisite Japanese commemorative postage stamps.
“Columbia Records does not give personal addresses of artists who belong to our record company. Send it to the above address in care of the Columbia Records. We hope to receive you letter soon.”

The postage stamps I had sent were wrapped in a beautiful paper and placed in an envelope. I thought of the wonderful employee in this faraway country who did such a kind job.

Had I known he would die so soon, I would have asked his opinion about my
favourite book, Thus Spoke Zarathustra, written by Friedrich W. Nietzsche.
How will I continue with my life now?

The bus entered Canada without difficulties.
In Japan, when I would open the morning newspapers, I often solemnly thought, “If I had learned about Gould’s death in Japan my life would have been over.” What a way to learn about his death, from the newspapers! And on top of that, from an immigration officer who is giving me a student visa…

When I was in Japan, whenever I saw a beautiful scenery, I always thought I wanted to share it with Gould. I believe one year in September I made two small sweet potatoes, and wrote Glenn Gould’s and Masako Hara’s name on each. And then I prayed for the two of them. My mother was appalled.


Once I asked my mother who was dying of cancer, “When you pass to the spirit world, please protect me so I can meet Gould.” Oh, if looks could kill, I would be dead right then.


b0071688_13352080.jpg

Gould was everything in this world for me.
I can’t express what an encouragement those concertos that the famous Vladimir Golschmann and Gould performed together were for me.
Bach’s Partitas; I loved #5&6 more than Goldberg.


During bitter times in my life, with his lively music Gould gave me driving force to go through my days and nights.

With piece after piece of his music he continued encouraging me, “One day, you will surely come to Canada.”

My life is one in which spirits would appear from a deep green forest at one
time, and in which I would receive comfort from a fountain of music influenced by Gould’s ideas at another.

I feel as if all those times led to this October 7th, 1982.
People who made a legend all ascended to heaven. In my great sorrow, I think of all the days I spent together with Gould’s music.

Today Toronto is wrapped in fog. I can barely see 30 meters ahead of me. This unusual atmosphere reminds me again that Gould passed away.
When I was changing streetcars I met several of my friends. One look at my face told them clearly I already knew of Gould’s death. They are watching me intently, worry etched on their faces. But, I just can’t force myself to make any conversation with them.


I am calling Mr and Mrs Smith from Southwood Dr. They’ve just come back from Gould’s family funeral. They could not reach me, and they were worried about me not getting Canadian visa and having to go back to Japan from the US without knowing about Gould’s death. They thought it would be a great shock for me if I learned about it in Japan.

“I got a student visa! However, Gould’s death was so sudden that it shook me quite badly. I thought he would live till he’s 80.”
“Me too! My husband was also really shocked. They are showing him playing Goldberg tonight on TV.”



b0071688_2215232.jpg
 

That night, Gould’s performance of Goldberg’s Variations was broadcasted on TV. It was a sad introduction to his “new recording”.

In April and May of 1981 Gould made a film of his performance of Goldberg in cooperation with Bruno Monsaingeon. In June the two of them worked hard on the film editing at Inn On the Park.

When he finishes playing, Gould suddenly drops down his head. Then, he lifts his hands and puts them together and prays to the piano like a Buddhist.
As if he is saying, “This is the last time. Good-bye earthly piano. Good-bye people on the Earth. “


b0071688_1338341.jpg



                           Translated by Saiko



next October 8, 1982 (31)

to Japanese version of this page October 7, 1982 (30)






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by mhara21 | 2016-10-07 00:00 | 後追い日記82年 | Comments(0)
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