A light has gone out

George Tomov was buried yesterday in a moving ceremony at his Macedonian Orthodox church in New Jersey. Among the graveside speakers was Rod McVeigh, a longtime Tomov Troupe member, old hand, calm head and good friend to George, who read an emotional eulogy:

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Today I speak on behalf of the Tomov Ensemble, a group that performed for almost twenty-five years. For George, the dream of his ensemble existed all of his life. From the time he danced brilliantly with Lado and Tanec in his native land, to the time he came to his new homeland of America, George wanted to bring his love and knowledge of ethnic dance and music to life for the public. And he certainly accomplished that, didn’t he? For our group of dancers, singers, and musicians, he was a muse, a mentor, a teacher, a friend, a father to us and grandfather to our children. In creating the Tomov Ensemble, George brought his culture from Macedonia to America and back again to Macedonia.

In 1979, 1981, 1985, and 1990, George bravely took a bunch of Americans, with costumes and instruments, all over what was then Yugoslavia. Much of our time was spent in and around Macedonia. There we danced near ancient bridges and on cement stages and in colorful Bitola parades. There was wonderful cevapcici and burek and Lake Ohrid trout and stunning views of the Vardar and the Crna Gora. George watched us with great joy as we performed in his hometown of Strumica. He was the epitome of the “proud papa.”

In America, too, George brought his abundant knowledge to life through us as we performed on many stages – some as grand as Carnegie Hall and Lincoln Center and some as simple as folk festivals and local schools. He even added an “American Suite” to the repertoire in honor of his new home. When George finally became a citizen of this country, we felt his happiness. We shared his ups and his downs, his triumphs and his difficulties. And although all of us were not participating all the way from the beginning until the ensemble stopped performing in the mid-1990s, once a Tomovcici, always a Tomovcici.

We thought we were learning how to perform. But we learned so much more from this amazing man, like: How to stand up straight. How to not show your “googie” to the “pooblic” (always good advice). How to apply too much makeup - on purpose and properly. How to pronounce hard foreign words like “spontaniou.” But he also taught us how to love each other, how to take care of each other, and how to watch out for each other, whether on the stage or off.

But, what did George always tell us was most important? If your feet do the wrong thing, or your hair falls on the floor, or your costume comes unpinned in the middle of the dance? Don’t stop. Just keep smiling. Don’t stop. Just keep smiling. Today, George, we are going to stop, but just for a few moments, to think about all you have meant to us. But then, George, as you say, we will go on, we will dance, and we will smile, as we remember you and your priceless legacy.

- composed with love by Rebecca McVeigh