The following is the tribute given by Morawetz' daughter, Claudia, at the
funeral on June 17, 2007.
Dr., Prof. Oskar Morawetz. My father.
I have known my father for only half of the 90 years of his life, as he was 45
when he first became a father. That seems like such a short time, and yet I
feel as if I have known him his whole life.
The young Morawetz children apparently collected butterflies, put on plays,
built models of famous churches and monuments. My father welcomed the
opportunity to relive his childhood with my brother and I, building elaborate
scenery for our train set, playing dominoes and card games, and amazing us
with magic tricks. Always a boy at heart, he loved being a father, amusing us,
teaching us and having fun with us.
In Světlá, Oskar loved swimming in the lake. In Toronto, he continued his
regime of 500 strokes three times a week until he was almost 80.
As a boy in Czechoslovakia, he was the tease, the practical joker of the
family. Oskar always loved telling a good joke, and he became a master
storyteller, drawing out the story until the end, when he would rub his hands
together, and with a glint in his eye, deliver the punch line.
Whereas most kids secretly read comic books or other forbidden material in
their desk when the teacher was not looking, instead, my father
surreptitiously read through orchestral scores cleverly hidden behind a
schoolbook. At home at his piano, he learned sonatas and complete operas by
sight-reading through anything he could get his hands on, building up an
incredible knowledge of the classical music literature. As a professor in
Toronto, his students found him inspiring, as he could demonstrate any musical
idiom by drawing examples from the music of the great composers. I am sure
that if that 1970’s game show, Name that Tune, had had a version for classical
tunes, my father would have won hands down.
Perhaps Oskar was not absent-minded in his childhood. Perhaps
absent-mindedness is an “acquired skill” - one that Oskar mastered to
perfection! From continually misplacing his car keys, to wearing two ties to
the office, his mind was often in music land, tongue stuck firmly in his cheek
keeping time to some new composition he was dreaming up.
As a composer, well, my father was not a child prodigy. In fact, after jotting
down his first creations, he thought his composing attempts were futile.
However, to obtain his Bachelor’s degree, he was required to write one
original composition. So Oskar forced himself to write one fugue per week, and
after the 40th or 50th fugue, he found it became easier and faster, proving
the old adage: “10% inspiration, 90% perspiration”. His Bachelor degree
composition, his opus #1, was a String Quartet, which won a CAPAC award. And
as they say: “the rest is history”.
My father was a kind-hearted, generous person. He demonstrated this not only
in the numerous organizations to which he donated money, but also in more
pro-active ways: everything from helping a friend get out of communist
Czechoslovakia, helping talented young musicians establish their careers, to
faithfully making regular visits to elderly friends.
Even in death my father was considerate. He hung on until his 90th year so
that we could give him a proper Morawetz birthday bash, and he was able to
attend the reception for my brother’s marriage in March. Although I never
actually told my father I was moving to Vancouver - or if I did, he certainly
wouldn’t have remembered - somewhere in his sub-conscious he must have known,
and chose to leave this world while I was still in Toronto, and able to say
goodbye.
Although he stopped composing 12 years ago, and the last five years of his
life were very difficult, both for him and for those of us caring for him, it
is still never easy to let go.
It was my father’s wish to have a Jewish funeral and burial. During his
lifetime, my father and I must have spoken about everything imaginable. And
yet now that he is gone, I realize that I never really asked him about his
religiosity, and how he identified himself with Judaism. I have always thought
of him as being spiritual, rather than religious. He was very private about
his beliefs. Yet perhaps the deeply emotional and sentimental character of the
music he composed was his outlet for something more profound than
spirituality.
Oskar: For years you told me how you could really use an agent to manage
the mundane, business side of composing: the correspondence, publicity,
publishing, rental, royalties, archiving, … It was not until five years ago,
when I unwittingly stepped into that role and slowly started learning the
ropes, that I really understood why.
I want you to know that as per your wishes: your music is still played live
and on the radio; I have retrieved your copyright for many works from an
errant publisher, and now almost all of your compositions are available for
sale and rental from the Canadian Music Centre; all your professional and
personal files reside at the National Library in Ottawa; and all your original
manuscripts will follow in the next few weeks as per your agreement with them.
Beyond what you requested: a scholarship has been established in your name at
the University of Toronto; a comprehensive web site exists about your life and
work; and a surprise gift I initiated more than 2 years ago: in a few weeks,
Centrediscs will release a new CD of your complete violin sonatas.
I hope that your legacy as a composer will continue for a long time. I know
that my memory of you as a wonderful father will last my lifetime.
I am, and always will be, proud to be your daughter. Thank you for everything
you have given me.
