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This obituary was first published online by the Newton Tab on November 6, 2023.
This version gives additional photos and links for further context.

Black and white photo shows a bearded man, a seven year old boy, and a woman with long dark hair.
Dick, Peter, and Martha, 1980

Martha Schecter Forsyth died peacefully in her sleep early September 24, 2023 at age 82. Her son Peter Forsyth and "virtual sister" Pat Iverson were with her in her home of almost 50 years. She was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer just weeks prior to her death. Dick, her husband of almost 40 years, died in 2014. She is survived by Peter, brother David Schecter, step-children Kristina and Matthew Forsyth, Matthew's wife Mary and their son Collen, cats Batko and Kalinka, and interconnected communities of friends, colleagues, and fellow travelers.

Family and friends will celebrate Martha's life in May 2024, location and date to be announced here at martha.forsyths.org.

Remote participation will be available.

Throughout her life, Martha pursued interests and passions that drew her far from the ordinary. Her greatest impact derived from her tireless research of traditional Bulgarian folk singing. She traveled to Bulgaria more than two dozen times beginning in 1976, seeking out traditional singers in small villages and recording their songs. Grants from IREX, Fulbright, and community organizations funded her early trips; later, she self-funded the work by leading numerous tours to the Koprivshtitsa folk festival.

She published a biography of one of her main contacts, singer Linka Gergova, in both English and Bulgarian in 1996, with an accompanying CD of Linka's songs. She released several compilations of field recordings, and donated raw materials to the American Folklife Center at the U.S. Library of Congress and to other academic archives. She served for decades as Secretary-Treasurer of the Bulgarian Studies Association (BSA). Organizations as varied as the BSA, the (U.S.) National Folk Organization, Bulgaria's national television and radio platforms, and academic journals have honored her work with lifetime achievement awards and coverage exploring her body of work.

Martha was born in 1940 in Dayton, Ohio to Harry Schecter and Gertrude (Baker) Schecter. They moved seven years later to Massachusetts, which Martha would call home for the rest of her life. Her interest in music and folklore grew organically throughout her life. Harry was a physicist with a keen interest in acoustics and a love for all kinds of music, and Gertrude taught weaving. Martha joined an adult choir, the Lexington Choral Society, at age 12. She continued with the choir into her time at Radcliffe College where, in the early 1960s, she delighted in the rich American folk music tradition that took hold in nearby Harvard Square. She was first exposed to Bulgarian music through an elective course at Radcliffe. She earned degrees in Slavic Languages and Literature at Radcliffe and the University of California.

Returning to Massachusetts after graduate school, Martha continued to explore Eastern European folklore in the burgeoning international folkdancing community cultivated by friends Marianne and Conny Taylor. This community would become central to her most important life events. She met Jon "Jonni" Boudreau through folkdancing, and after several years they conceived a son, Peter. She began this chapter as a single mother, but took great pride in seeing Peter meet Jonni and his family in 1980 and form lasting bonds, and in renewing her own connection with Jonni in later years. She met Dick, also through folkdancing, and they were married in 1976. Dick adopted Peter, and delighted in supporting Martha's interests with his own technical innovations.

Martha enjoyed numerous hobbies, crafts, and occupations. She taught Russian at M.I.T., made leather shoes for customers with various unusual footwear needs, made Appalachian dulcimers, learned and practiced Bulgarian crafts such as card weaving and crocheted beadwork, and put her research into practice as a founding member of the Bulgarian folk music ensemble Zdravets, which decades later continues to host regular dance events for a dedicated community of dancers and music lovers.

Community was a theme common to all her endeavors. She and Dick devoted energy to helping members of their community even when they didn't already know them well. They assisted a number of Bulgarians who immigrated to the United States during and after the fall of the Soviet empire, in some cases providing help that opened life-altering possibilities.

Martha's life was full of delightful contradictions. She described herself as "all three of the original computer-haters," but her esoteric interests and do-it-yourself inclinations drove her to push computers to their limits to get them to do what she needed. She disliked politics, but her personal connections, deep specialized knowledge, and above all her dislike of injustice often eclipsed that preference, and drove her to engage in interesting and impactful ways.

She embraced the social and educational opportunities that technology brought. Her field research continually brought technical challenges, often deriving from the need for durable, high quality recording equipment in remote locations. Dick brought many ideas, and Martha was always an active partner in implementing them. For many years she produced the Folk Arts Center of New England's Folk News, primarily through manual layout and printing, but gradually incorporating elements of desktop publishing. She sustained friendships and passions through social media. At Peter's suggestion, she contributed her knowledge to the English and Bulgarian language editions of Wikipedia. With Dick's guidance, she developed websites of her own to document her expanding knowledge.

Advancing age, medical adventures including two bouts of cancer, the loss of her husband and parents, the disruptions of the COVID-19 pandemic, and a far-off mass shooting that impacted her family all took their toll, but none diminished her will to try new things and new ways to engage with the world. She embraced hula hooping. She mastered desktop publishing software in order to edit the Jewish Genealogical Society of Greater Boston's newsletter. She took on major renovations to the house, overseeing the installation of solar panels, new electrical wiring, and new insulation in recent years. This year she visited a beloved place by the ocean with Peter and his partner Laura, hiking miles through a nature preserve on a blustery January day. Until her final months, she routinely walked to a neighborhood store for her groceries.

Martha remained active, creative, and loving until the end. She developed her first alarming symptoms in August 2023, and received the cancer diagnosis in early September. Though her final weeks were far fewer than she wanted, she had the focus to ensure that her most important unfinished tasks were going to be addressed, and she settled into a beautiful time of visits with friends and loved ones, in person and on the phone. Her clear decision upon hearing the bad news was that "we're going to have fun when we can." She fully realized that vision, and true to form, she brought as many of her friends and family along for the ride as she could manage.

2

Here is a little project I started a year or so ago, got to the point where it is, and....it isn't finished, sigh.

At present it has all of the locations, arranged by region, complete with latitude and longitude.  For each place I have a brief "info box" with the number of visits I've made there, how many songs I've recorded and in what year, sometimes a photo or several, sometimes particularly "interesting" remarks, what blog posts refer to the village.  You access the info box by clicking on the diamond that locates it.

What do I need to do to be able to call it Finished?  Well, for one thing, it's always going to be a work-in-progress.  There are so many things I'd like to add!  Pictures, for example.  Names of singers - or at least of a few.  This could get hugely out-of-hand! which may be part of the reason I've not yet made it "public" - but I think you can see some of it from this link (if you can't, I guess I'll have forced myself to make it public!).  Comments, and suggestions, would be welcome!

1

In my very first post on this blog, I included the first song that Ivanka/Mehrem/Kera sang for us in Draginovo in 1981.  The one where "...she sat down and said nothing for a minute and a half! (I timed it), while she composed herself.  Then she sang us a song that lasted for nearly 10 minutes...."  This, she tells me, is a very old song.  (You can hear the song in the first post on the blog, "Come sing for these Americans!")

Sure enough, my dear friend and colleague Miriam Milgram recently sent me a text she had found in a song collection published in1895 — that's almost a hundred years before Kera sang it for us!  Miriam sent me the text, which I will post here.  It corresponds rather amazingly well to Kera's version (remember, village people don't learn songs from books, they learn them from each other), though I have not translated it yet because there are some differences that I have not yet completely deciphered.  But I'll give you the two texts here:

Ivanka/Kera's text from 1981:
(click on the image for a full-size version)

Draginovo '80:8

The "new" (older) version, recorded in Chepino (one of the sections of nearby Velingrad) in the 1890s:
(again, click on the image for a full-size version [it's pre-1917 spelling reform])

Isuf sirak i Kaimak Duda

3

(UPDATE: Of course, this event did not happen on March 21 in 2021, thanks to Covid-19.  When we are able to hold another Balkan Music Night, we will probably use this song.)

Every year for the past 35 years, we have a Balkan music and dance extravaganza in Boston called Balkan Music Night (coming up this year on March 21).  And every year, starting in 1988, we do at least one, usually two dances accompanied by our own singing.  For us, this practice grew out of a set of Bulgarian singing classes led by Erica Zissman (one of the songs we learned was appropriate for this, and as we got familiar with it, we said, "We should DO this somewhere!"  Erica, being on the committee that produces this event, suggested Balkan Music Night.

But in Bulgaria (and other countries nearby, I'm sure), it was a time-honored tradition.  When the village gathered to have some fun and do some dancing in the village square on Sunday or on a holiday, no one could wait for the local instrument players to arrive to start the dancing, so two groups of young ladies (the eligible ones....) would start singing, and the dancing would start!  One group was at the head of the line, another group at the "tail"—that group repeated the same words the first group had sung.  Then the first group sang the next verse and the second group repeated it, and so on until the song finished.  At that point they could go seamlessly into another song....  I need to remind you that this dancing in the village square was an important social occasion.  The eligible girls could show their stuff, young people could get a little chat in even though in public.  This happened every Sunday and every holiday!

In order to make this happen in Boston, we need a small core group of people who can lead the singing.  Since we don't have a tradition in which you absorb these songs as you're growing up, and we don't have Erica to give singing classes anymore, I have taken over making sure there are enough people who know the song, to make this happen.  So I am co-opting a blog post to put up the music and the words here, for people to practice.  The words will be in the program booklet, and we will invite other people to join in singing as they get familiar with the song.  (In this, we stray from the village custom.  We do NOT insist that the singers be only a few people—we want everyone to sing!)

It happens that I've already done a post on this particular song, which you might like to read: "So what IS that rhythm???"—but I will repeat the recordings and the text here, so you don't have to go to yet another page to find them.

Един Димитър на майкя (Edin Dimitâr na majkja) (see text below)

This is the version I first recorded, when they were not dancing as they sang.  Later I returned and asked them about what dance they did to it, and they replied by singing it while dancing:

Един Димитър на майкя (Edin Dimitâr na majkja), sung while actually dancing

•••♦•♦•♦•♦•♦•♦•♦•••
The words (first a large-type, easy-to-read version, then one with the music transcription, and the text in Bulgarian, in transliteration, and in translation:


•••♦•♦•♦•♦•♦•♦•♦•••
Ihtiman 1980:14 Jedin Dimit'r na majkja

 

3

This is not the post I have been planning to do "next" (that one will still take some time, because video-editing will be required),  But I just stumbled on this interesting little piece in what I've been working on lately as I try to complete my inventory of all my recordings to date.

Draginovo, Velingrad region, Bulgaria
Draginovo, Velingrad region, Bulgaria

It is 1994, and we are in Dragínovo (near Vélingrad), with our old friend Kéra Kičilíeva (see my very FIRST post on this blog, "Come sing for these Americans!"). This time, "we" is myself, my husband Dick, and our good friend Pat Iverson, with whom I'd been singing for some years.

I already knew this particular song, but I was looking to  understand the details of both parts better.  So I want to share with you what I recorded in 1994.  But before you jump in, let's talk about what you'll hear, because almost all the conversation is in Bulgarian.

First Kéra and I sing a few verses of the song, me singing the lower part.  (This was not a "proper" recording session, with a proper "beginning": we begin not at the beginning of the song, but on the second verse, actually in mid-word.  Thank you, Dick, for realizing it would be good to record this....)  Then we stop, and I try to clarify how the drone (the lower part) should 'move': should it slide down gradually (as I've been trying to do), or should it just jump cleanly to the lower pitch?  (Evidently Kera didn't understand my question, because she verbally preferred that it slide, but when she sings that lower part next, she makes a clean jump.)  We sing a few verses again, in the same configuration, and I try to do what I thought she asked me too (not very successfully!)

We stop again; Kera says we are singing it in the old way, not the new way.  She suggests we sing it a third time with her singing the second part, "so we can hear the way she sings the second part".  This is actually a bit mixed up...I'm not used to singing the top part—and I screw up, so she takes over singing that, while I try to do the second part with a clear break, the way I just heard her do it.  It sort of falls apart at this point, so I suggest that when we go later to Sârnítsa, where her sister Albéna lives, Kera and Albena can sing it for me, and it will be clear.  (This does happen, I'll put that in here too.)  There's some interesting commentary at the end—about variations—that I won't try to translate (the very end is in English).  But I was pleased to note that I had already developed the thought that I express at the end, about the connection between what we call "ornaments" and the (physical phonetic features of) words, and even the meaning.

Паюнче свири (Pajunče svire), learning session

Now listen to Kera and her sister Albéna singing the same song, a few hours later:

Паюнче свири (Pajunče svire), Kera and her sister Albena

Albéna Kisjóva and Kéra Kichilíeva, 2005

And finally, you can read the text (a very sad one!) and the translation here.

 

 

 

 

2

But Martha, it's too silly to write about frogs!  Or is it?  Isn't a Blog a place where you can write about anything you please?

Nedélino, just north of Zlatográd and the Greek border, south central Bulgaria

Recently I had occasion to hear some spring peepers, which I dearly miss, since I can't hear any where I'm now living (not close enough to a wetland, I guess).  And it reminded me that at some point I had made a recording of frogs in the river, singing (at night) in Nedélino (Недéлино), 12 km. north of Zlatográd (Златогрáд) — but when was that???  Thank goodness for all the time I've spent organizing and indexing my work: it didn't take very long to find those two minutes of tape, recorded in May of 2001.  Listen and sink into the active stillness (notice how much traffic noise there isn't?), and below the recording I'll put a few pictures of beautiful Nedelino.

Night frogs in Nedélino, May 2001

(By the way, several people have mentioned hearing a bird.  I hear that too, but as far as I remember this recording was made quite late in the evening. But...they do have nightingales in Bulgaria, so maybe that's what it is?)

Panorama of Nedelino, taken in 2004

We were staying at the north end of town, where the houses disappear into the mountains.  Click on the thumbnails below to see a larger image.  (I wish I could make a more sensitive array of pictures, but haven't figured out how to do it here.)

2

Here is a story that seems particularly appropriate right now.  It comes in several parts:

Dolen, Blagoevgrad region

Part 1 happened in the winter of 1980-81, when, together with Dick and Peter, we wanted to visit the village of Dólen (some 17 miles east of Gótse Délčev), because we knew there was a very special kind of singing done only there, and in the neighboring town of Satóvča.  One of the things we learned is that there is some pretty fierce rivalry between the towns as to who stole it from whom! but that is not part of this story.

The first thing that happened, when we arrived in Dólen on a wet and icy 14th of January (the roads were closed later in the day, so we felt lucky to even get there), was that the ensemble director Silvéta Mánčeva greeted us, but told us that the women didn't want to come.  They'd promised to come when she'd asked them the day before, but today it was so icy that they did not want to come out at all....  So she went to try to round them up.  We waited in the warm Cultural Center (I still remember watching steam rising from our wet coats and jackets as they warmed up from the heat of the stove).  And they did come!  But before I go any further, let's listen to an example of this kind of singing:

Слага се слънце, надведа (Slága se slântse, nadvéda), recorded in Dólen (near Satóvča) in the winter of 1980-81  (song texts at end of post)

When we recorded this, all of the singers insisted that none of the young people in the village could do this "high singing (na visóko)"; even Silvéta herself, born in 1947) could not do it.  "It takes a special voice."

I was lucky enough to be able to record several examples of just the "high singing", without the lower part, which stood me in good stead later.  Here is a little sample:

Лесни се, горо (Lesní se, goro), recorded in Dólen


Part 2

After I came home in 1981 with my treasure (about 75 hours of village singing and discussion — almost 900 songs, including a few instrumental melodies!), I gradually started to assemble some "favorites" — songs I especially liked, good songs for sharing, songs that I thought local singers might like to learn...  Among these was "Slaga se, Slântse" (above).

So, sometime after 1985 I sang for awhile with one of Boston's earliest ensembles that did Bulgarian music, Evo Nas.  We singers decided to try and see if we could do this na visóko singing.  To our considerable amazement, we found that once we wrapped our heads around the notes we were trying to sing, and took that "leap of faith"....IT JUST FLEW!  I think we were sitting on my livingroom couch when that happened the first time.

After another year or two Evo Nas folded (too many members had moved away, but by 1989 a couple of us die-hards had formed the ensemble Zdravets, which is still going strong in the Boston area — and the singers continue to sing this song to this day.

Part 3
Moving on to the summer of 1988, I was in Bulgaria on another recording expedition for three months, during several weeks of which my husband Dick, my son Peter, and my long-time singing partner Erica Zissman joined me.  We were offered the services of a car and a driver for a few days, and decided that one of the places we would like to go was Dólen.  We cherished the hope that we could get the na visóko singers to come — even if only for a few minutes — to listen to our na visóko singing and tell us if we were doing it "right".  We arrived in the village just about 6pm, which is a TERRIBLE time for village women - at that time of day their flocks are coming home from pasture and need to be greeted, milked, and bedded down for the night.  But we found Silvéta, and asked nicely, and once again, she managed  to round up four of the women who did this singing.  Interestingly enough, Erica and I found that we could not sing with them, because in the eight years since I had recorded them, there were tiny changes in timing and possibly even pitches.  But what do you know?  If they sang, and we answered them (in the traditional style)...  it worked just fine!  But at that time young people in their own village still could not do it.

Part 4
Fast forward to the summer of 1991, when the big national folk festival was held in Koprívštitsa.  (Dick and I led a tour, and nearly all of Zdravets came, but again — that is another story.)  We narrowly missed the performance of the group from Dólen, but caught up with them afterwards, and they sang a little for us.  Who sang?  Who sang na visóko?  Everyone — the older women, the younger women, I think there were kids there who sang — and Silvéta sang!  I guess that if two crazy Americans (of all things) could learn to sing this way....!

Coda
Unfortunately there are two sad parts to the coda.  One is that by 2010, when on a later tour we stopped again in Dólen, there was no singing group there anymore, though there was a strong one in Satóvča, who sang for us, and persuaded me to do some singing with them (I had no partner on that tour, though).

The other sad part is that my dear friend Erica, with whom I started singing in 1971, succumbed to a cancer she had been fighting for six years, at the end of February.  The tiny sliver of silver lining is that Zdravets had sung this song in a coffeehouse two days before she died, and I had shared this story — and I did manage to visit Erica the day before she died, and remind her of this adventure.  We shared a moment of gratitude for the way our lives were intertwined.

Erica Zissman (1951-2018)


Song texts:

6

It's been way too long since I've posted anything here...life has a way of intervening!  First there was a busy time followed by 3+ weeks in Bulgaria; then a lot of computer hassles; then — not only the end-of-year holidays, but...I have been busy making two NEW KITTIES (once feral and with traces of that left) feel at home!  Since they're not my Bulgarian research, I will only quietly put their pictures here (I may add a page for them some day soon).  Suffice to say that I've been side-tracked from this blog by eight feet and two tails...

Batko

Kalinka

Alino, Samokov regionBut a day or two ago I woke up to one of the joys of the internet: the director of the women's singing group in the village of Álino (Sámokov region) contacted me on Facebook.  It turns out that he is either related to or neighbor to the 8 women who sang for me there in 1985!  I hope this will give me an opportunity to get copies of my material back to the descendants of the people who sang them, and also to others who might be interested, or even singing them today.

Update: After posting this, I heard back from my new friend in Alino, Momčil Čalâkov (Момчил Чалъков).  He sent me a handful of lovely videos of the women from Alino, and told me there are many more on Youtube.  I've been watching them...but they've been put up by several different people.  The easiest way to find them seems to be to search, on Youtube, in Bulgarian: just click on one of the links below (or copy and paste the search term) into the "Search" box on Youtube:
фолклорна група село Алино
or

ЖПГ от с. Алино, and check them out.

Álino is less than a 20-minute drive from Samokov; it is located in the southern foothills of Plána Mountain, just two villages south of Kovačévtsi (birthplace of Kreména Stánčeva, singer extraordinaire).  I recorded there just once, on 17 April 1985, 16 songs from a group of 8 women born between 1924 and 1933.  Their songs are among those I consider not too "accessible" to people who are not into this music up to their eyeballs.  The music is two-part and sung antiphonally (by two groups), the second group repeating what the first has sung, as we expect in this region.  But sometimes it's a little hard to tell just what the melody is!  The two parts like to hang out just a note or two apart, melodically — and come into unison only at the end of each verse.  (It's such fun to sing things like this...)

Here is a dance song, sung while they were actually dancing.  The dance was a pravo horo that I saw all over the region, but the little triplets near the end of each verse are interesting, and I notice them in other songs from Alino.

Снощи ми дойдоя двои годежняци (Snóšti mi dojdója godežnjáci)

The song tells of a girl's dilemma when her mother engages her to someone she doesn't like...

And let's also listen to a lovely solo harvest melody, similar to, but in some way quite different from what I've heard in nearby villages:

Мильо ле, млада Загорко (Míljo le, mlada Zagorka)

The story is not complete, but it's all they sang for me:

6

Today I was amused to see this update to a news item:

Fake news, but once upon a time....

I'd been noticing this item for several days, and every time I did, I found myself thinking, "Hmmm....have they been listening to old Bulgarian songs?"  So today I want to share with you a song about Jánko and Janínko.  But first, I'd like to point out that anyone who gets involved with Bulgarian folklore will sooner or later bump into the 500 years of "Turkish slavery", when Bulgaia was ruled by Turks.  If you're dim on this important piece of history, check it out online.  The Wikipedia article on Ottoman Bulgaria is a good place to start.

So, as you can imagine, a lot of terrible, tragic things happened to individuals and to families in that time.  One that is well-represented in the Bulgarian song repertoire is exactly our "song of the day", the one about Jánko and Janínko.  I just went searching through my lists to see when and where I've recorded it; I see that I have more than 20 versions of it (and counting)—plus an additional song I recorded in Bistritsa, that may be yet another version, or it might be an offshoot that developed in a somewhat different direction.

In other words, this is a very powerful story, that village people remember.  I guess it all goes to show that "there's nothing new under the sun"! though I'd like to point out that most likely this Bulgarian song originated not in someone's fancy (like the news item), but in response to a real event.

Jambórano (now part of Dragovíštitsa), Kjustendíl region

Here is a nicely-sung version, which I see that I already gave you early last year, but I will re-post here, with its beautifuland haunting Samokovsko "harvest song melody":

К вечерум се робье продавая (K večerum se rob'je prodavaja), recorded in Kovačévtsi, Samokov region.

You can find the text and translation for this version in my post from February 2016, "Harvest songs...Part 1".

Eléna Nikólova Božílova, Béli Ískâr 1988 (click on the picture to see it larger)

But, to give you something new this time, here is a version that I recorded three years later in Béli Ískâr, also Sámokov region, from Eléna Nikólova Božílova, born in 1931.  Elena has given me many magnificent versions of songs, and I consider this the granddaddy of this song.  It is a good example of the way a consummate singer can breathe life into a story-line.  Here are two pdf files, one with the original Bulgarian text, and one with a translation.

Now, I know that if you read the translation carefully, you're going to wonder about some peculiar, even illogical, things about the plot.  This was only the second song she gave me, and I don't think she'd yet gotten over her shock at meeting me.  You see, I had met her husband in the village square, and he took me to their home, certain that we would find her there.  But no....she was nowhere to be found.  He went out to look for her, leaving me alone in the house.  It was a warm day and I started feeling a bit drowsy, so I lay down to rest a bit, when....Elenka walked in!  She had NOT met her husband before coming home, she just walked in and found a total stranger lying down in her house! and she seemed pretty cross.  I tried to explain calmly why I was there and what had happened, and she gradually relaxed.  In the end she became quite friendly to me—you can see this in her smile here, but that took a little while.  She gave me 21 fine songs, and when I saw her again in 1994 and she told me more than 30 more!