I drove three junior-high-age choristers to St. Louis, Todd Hall, and the Course; M. beside me in the passenger seat, C. and L. in the back. For much of the five-hour trip, M. quietly played games on his phone. The girls in the back talked almost the entire time and regaled us with a CD recording by Taylor Swift, of whom I had read but whose music I had not encountered. (Yes, I am pretty thoroughly detached from popular culture.) They knew all of the words to all of the songs and sang along with the best parts, adding harmony lines above the recorded vocals that were better than the original.
I found myself recalling Jennifer and Meredith at that age, happily chattering with one another in the back seat. And Mark and Mike, again at that age, talking and playing games the whole way down. As I get older, the years increasingly run together.
With some, we sing for a week; with some, for years,The Course is full to capacity this year, some seventy persons, and the first rehearsal is terrific. At this first rehearsal, we learn some warmups from Andrew Walker, our director for the week, and an African song that would quickly become a favorite, all before opening our folders. For the short Vespers service, the trebles sing the Prayer from Hänsel and Gretel:
but the beauty of the song is not measured by duration...
When at night I go to sleep,I watch the treble choristers as they sing: the ones from our parish, several of them at their first Course, the many others. They are engaged, focused – and the sound is beautiful: strong, already confident after just one evening's rehearsal.
Fourteen angels watch do keep:
Two my head are guarding,
Two my feet are guiding,
Two are on my right hand,
Two are on my left hand,
Two who warmly cover,
Two who o'er me hover,
Two to whom 'tis given
To guide my steps to heaven.
Afterwards, I stand in the parking lot outside Blackburn Lodge watching the sun set, the air heavy with cicadas.
It is a good beginning.
(To be continued)
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1 comment:
Welcome home, Cassi.
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