So different, so very different. And yet...

Just when I begin to think it is totally hopeless, that we really no longer have anything at all in common anymore, I begin to come across things here and there in my research that remind me we were once countrymen long ago after all.

I see, on the one hand, so many differences in our customs and manner of speaking. And then I recall how my uneducated Tennessee mother used to tell me stories when I was a child, stories her own mother had told her - about a marvelous warrior who fought and killed giants, a warrior named Beowulf. And I suddenly feel the bond returning somehow over the centuries. I remember that same woman singing me to sleep with a gentle lullaby that I assumed was from the hills of Tennessee, but later learned it was Welsh through and through.

So many things are superficially different, yet even more things remain solidly the same over the years. If I learned anything at all from my research for my near-completed book it is that, in spite of our obvious differences, there remains this eerie undercurrent of sameness that I can't seem to shake.

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This is the story of how we begin to remember
This is the powerful pulsing of love in the vein
After the dream of falling and calling your name out
These are the roots of rhythm
And the roots of rhythm remain
—Paul Simon (Graceland: African Skies)

Sleep, my child, and peace attend thee
All through the night
Guardian angels God will send thee
All through the night
Soft the drowsy hours are creeping
Hill and dale in slumber sleeping
I my loving vigil keeping
All through the night

While the moon her watch is keeping
All through the night
While the weary world is sleeping
All through the night
O'er thy spirit gently stealing
Visions of delight revealing
Breathes a pure and holy feeling
All through the night

Though I roam a minstrel lonely
All through the night
My true harp shall praise sing only
All through the night
Love's young dream, alas, is over
Yet my strains of love shall hover
Near the presence of my lover
All through the night

Hark, a solemn bell is ringing
Clear through the night
Thou, my love, art heavenward winging
Home through the night
Earthly dust from off thee shaken
By good angels art thou taken
Soul immortal shalt thou awaken
With thy last dim journey taken
Home through the night
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Holl amrantau'r sêr ddywedant
Ar hyd y nos
'Dyma'r ffordd i fro gogoniant
Ar hyd y nos.
Golau arall yw tywyllwch
I arddangos gwir brydferthwch
Teulu'r nefoedd mewn tawelwch
Ar hyd y nos.
O mor siriol gwen a seren
Ar hyd y nos
I oleuo'i chwaer ddae ar en
Ar hyd y nos.
Nos yw henaint pan ddaw cystudd
Ond i harddu dyn a'i hwyr dydd
Rhown ein goleu gwan i'n gilydd
Ar hyd y nos.