My own puzzle Technologybud



“Ships are lost here, boats are sailing,” most people now think whenever they hear about the celebrations of 1821. They are right. Today’s pandemic-tragedy has absorbed us, leaving no room for reflection and nostalgia. My opinion is that the funds of the “Greece 2021” committee should have already been made available to those who were on the front line from the first moment. To the nursing staff, to the employees in the supermarkets, to the transport, to the cleaning. It is not populism – alas! – to honor in practice those who prove to be worthy of their ancestors in a completely different war. Even if they do not wear a skirt but a white blouse or uniform. The video clip that was released for our two hundredth national birthday admittedly aroused interest. Mrs. Gianna Angelopoulou presented it, saying that they chose “Let the dances last” by Dionysis Savvopoulos because it uniquely describes our common journey, during which our bond grew stronger and our friends wrote and are writing History. The most reactions, as expressed in the press and on social media, ranged from negative to ridiculous. “So this is Greece? “Well-nourished all-white emoticons rocking in the Stadium, scratching and flirting around the marbles?” someone wrote. “Haven’t the makers of the video clip seen the Afro-Greeks of Kypseli, the rappers of the Western Districts? They have not understood how he dreams, how the new generation revolts? Not to mention Savvopoulos’s lyrics, the manifesto of an outdated and disliked nationalism. Orthodoxy and antiquities, narcissism of the hangout and the company, exactly what he went bankrupt and took us by the throat in 2010! ”I do not include“ Let the dances keep ”in Savvopoulos’s best. A thousand times I prefer “The Deadly Loneliness of Alexis Aslanis” and of course the masterpiece “Zeybekiko” with the voice of Bellou. The people of Kalamata and Tsamiko were slandered by the junta. You listen to them and imagine Georgios Papadopoulos cracking Easter eggs in barracks. The ideologically dominant wooden Marxism during the Metapolitism completely devalued the homeland and the metaphysical faith, and even the persons – Tassos and Elena of the song – as protagonists of History, young and old. You existed exclusively by joining a party, enlisting in the class struggle. After all, Savvopoulos contrasted our community tradition with the statism that prevailed in almost the entire political spectrum. He recalled the autonomous places under Turkish rule, where the flame of the Roman was kept alive. Yes, the “Dances” marked their time. But they are now almost forty years old. Almost everything around and inside us has changed. Didn’t the committee find anything fresher to support Greece’s birthday? Look for it too. You are not going to discover a single worthwhile song that talks about the nation, the people, even the political struggles. At the rallies, Theodorakis, Xarchakos, Markopoulos are still being thrown out, the same shields that vibrated our parents, maybe even our grandparents. What is the latest to demonstrate? With “She who passes” by Phoebus Delivorias? Or with “Early Morning you give rights”? A decade ago, various artists attempted to compose the anthem of the anti-memorandum struggle. The results were comically tragic. More kitsch than the monument of the “Dead of ERT”. Are the artists closed in their microcosm? Are they only moved by their private passions? And when they talk about the collective, do they do it mechanically, uninspired? The answer may be different. We may no longer need epic – that is, rounded, “pure” – national narratives: “What are you anyway?” I recently asked my ten year old daughter. “Athena? Corfu from your mother? Greek; European? ‘ “I get what I like from here and from there,” he laughed. “And this is how I assemble my own puzzle!” Her great-aunt did the same in Smyrna. She played Italian canzonets on the mandolin, studied French, had a close-knit Armenian without feeling any insecurity about her own national identity. Until he came to “old Greece” and was called pastrikia… Why do we need to align ourselves with a glorious past, which will be solemnly served to us by the committee of 1821 or the excavators of Amphipolis? What Greek endured over the centuries flows anyway in our blood. Not because we have inherited it genetically but because it illuminates our every moment. Lift your eyes from Patision Street. You will see the Parthenon. Look at the one passing by. It is a living Caryatid. Or a Bouboulina of today and tomorrow. Follow it on Google News and be the first to know all the news See all the latest News from Greece and the World, at



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