Rasa Ardys-Juđka, Editor
Perspectives
Ever since I can remember, February 16th Independence Day Commemorations (Vasario 16-tosios Minëjimai) were just that — commemorations. To me that meant remembering what once had been and lost.
America’s July 4th celebrations thundered and sparkled; while, Lithuanians would sit misty-eyed listening to sentimental poetry, often-times sorrowful singing, and woeful speeches in the dead of winter. But that was the lot of a Lithuanian-American. It must have seemed strange to visitors to watch an Independence Day celebration without the celebration.
For a young child, the long event would tick by ever so slowly, but it held my attention. People around me would nod in agreement with the speeches. Some men, more “politically” inclined, would rustle off to the back of the hall to make a point or voice disagreement with their compatriots. The women would shush them as they bustled around with the desserts and coffee items. They too listened intently and whispered in hushed tones when something was said just right or needed special embellishment.
During the lighter part of the event, the singing and folk dancing, women would dab their eyes with nice white handkerchiefs. Our parents snapped pictures as they proudly watched the next generation repeat the dances they had danced when they had been young...when they had lived in independent Lithuania.
The quite ride home found some of us deep in thought. My littlest sister would often collapse in the car with feet and legs sprawled over my sister’s and my lap. We didn’t mind this time.
We would watch our parents as we drove home. They often said very little — either driving intently or staring out the window. Sometimes we would ask them if they liked the commemoration. One time, my mother answered that it would better to celebrate independence, rather than commemorate it.