A dear family friend celebrated her 90th birthday recently in Caracas. She and my mother were born a few months’ apart in the same year: 1930.

I replied to our friend, “Ah, Mrs. A.! How good are the memories that this brings to mind! I will see my mother next week, God willing, and will share with her. Thank you.”

I did share with my mother and sister this week and we had a conversation marked by genuine thankfulness for friends who remained friends unto the third and fourth generations. Matthew Henry notes, “It is a duty we owe our parents, when they are gone, to love their friends and consult with them. Solomon’s son undid himself by forsaking the counsel of his father’s friends.”

How fortunate we have been to have had our father’s and mother’s friends as our friends also! Those of you who have been so blessed fully understand the sentiment. Many are now gone, but the aroma of their company and the bracing nature of their hearty counsel remains. Yesterday, I looked up and said to my mother, “When I am here, I often think of Mrs. E. I miss her.” 

My mother understood. 

As for the piece below, the composer was Juan Vicente Torrealba, also a well-regarded harpist, who died in May, 2019, at the age of 102. His compositions reflected Venezuela’s plains (llanos) and the folks who scratched out a living therefrom, mostly from cattle. His songs also called forth the rivers, fauna, and flora of those vast regions of the country.

The piece linked below is Concierto en la Llanura and is a good representation of his compositions, especially the use of the harp. 

Americans in the mining camps appreciated this genre of music. I think they still would.