A REUNION

This spring break, I could have seen New York, I could have picked up an internship, I could have stayed home and saved my quickly dwindling funds from hemorrhaging even further.

There was a reason I picked this trip. Guess which one:

1) To advance the noble journalism profession.

2) To enhance my portfolio with international coverage.

3) To meet a challenge to my journalistic abilities and to rise above them.

4) My violin.

Yes yes, I'll say all of the above, but it's that number 4 that sold me.

Let me explain. Four years ago I lived in Nottingham, which is about two hours north of London, for about eight months. I planned to go to university there in 2007, and I even went so far as to move half my belongings - including my violin - to my good friend's room in a Nottingham suburb.

Then my university funding fell through, and my bank account couldn't afford to free up enough cash for another trip to England anytime soon. I could have my friend just ship the stuff home, but it would have cost just about the same as a plane ticket. He agreed to hang on to it for me until the next time I found myself in Old Blighty.

It took me a year and a half to return.

I missed my violin like crazy at moments, in that way that only happens when something you take for granted is all of a sudden missing. You don't know what you've got 'til it's gone, Joni Mitchell reminds us, and now that my good friend has dragged all of my belongings from Nottingham to London on a coach ride, I know what I've got, and I am extremely grateful.

Tomorrow I just might break it out and busk. I could do it as a fundraiser for the journalism department at SJSU. Or it could be a fundraiser to save the starving students of the world, aka me. Either way, carpe diem.

Suzanne Yada
Managing Editor

Magazine Journalism

www.suzanneyada.com

FREE MUSIC FROM THE WORKING POOR

Musicians litter the streets of London, showcasing their musical talents in hopes of just a few coins dropped in their instrument case. They are in the subway, standing in street tunnels and around every corner.

The sounds of flutes, saxophones and violins filled the air as I ventured out into the Soho district of London tonight. While I walked up and down the streets in search of a non-crowded pub or restaurant, a violinist and his son crossed our path.

My best friend Harvey Rañola, a broadcast journalism major, approached the gentleman and began to ask him questions about being a street musician. It turns out the gentleman is an immigrant that barely speaks English. To make ends meet, he currently plays the violin along-side his son on the tambourine.

I couldn’t help but feel awakened to the harsh reality of what life is like for the working poor. To walk the streets of London, late at night when the temperatures drop, is not something I would have ever imagined my father to ask of me. How desperate must their situation be to have a father ask his son to accompany him as he performs for strangers on the street?

And would Americans do the same thing? I see homeless people all the time in our city of San Jose and they don’t “work” for their handouts. I wonder if, when push comes to shove, Americans would humble themselves enough to try and perform in order to feed their families? Or would they just sit there on the street corner with their hands out?

We gave the violinist four pounds and thanked him for his time. He turned around and with his son by his side, continued down the road playing the violin, and his son shaking the tambourine.

Alex Ruiz-Huidobro
Broadcast Journalism