You'Ll Come September

A boy growing up in rural Greece in the '60s learns about life from two very diverse role models.
His love of his grandfather comes at a high price.

His love of his grandfather comes at a high price. The loss of his innocence.

Young Yannako didn't mind the snake bite he got no thanks to Pappou, his reckless grandfather.
The trip to the villages of the Orthris mountain range was a just reward.
Nor was he going to let a punch in the gut from the village's bad boy 'Red', diminish the fun he was having with his new friend Vasili.
Not to mention falling in love, or was it lust, with Dimitra. . .

“Some of our finest heroes came from Epiros. And national benefactors let me say! People that did well abroad and brought home capital to build universities, libraries, hospitals, schools, you name it. But the best gift that Epiros ever gave Greece and the world, was its music. ” With that, he brought the pipe to his mouth and started playing. I had heard that tune before but never in the middle of a perfect autumn day, in the middle of a plateau, on top of the Othris mountain range. The music seemed to be totally in tune with the environment that gave birth to it. It was soulful and agonising. It was mesmerising. Pappou was now tapping his foot, establishing a slow, majestic, contagious beat. I started banging the front of the seat of the sousta. He nodded approvingly. I hit harder, two beats to the bar. I could feel the pulse of the rhythm that was developing. Pappou was filling the gaps of the offbeat. It was really happening. He stopped the pipes and started singing. ‘The moon takes a stroll, in my loved one’s door, The moon, makes a circle, in my loved one’s garden’ I joined in, careful not to spoil the rhythm I was beating. We sang harder and louder. It was just us and our voices and God’s ear. We’d sing a verse and then Pappou would play the pipe and on with the singing again, from one Epirotiko song, onto another and then onto some Thessalian standards. I knew them all. I was singing so hard and not economising on my vocal strength, or lack of it, that I started losing my voice. We must have played and sung for hours. Pappou showed me the fingerings of some of the easier pieces and, above all, taught me how to get the sound out of the mouthpiece, by blowing in a certain direction and intensity. Pappou had given me a lot of gifts but this one was the most precious of all, one that I cherished and held on to, for the rest of my life. The gift of music!