This one's for my dad

I sang in a choir last night. I love singing in a choir. My dad was the choir director. I love my dad. As long as I can remember my dad’s been a choir director. Actually, long before I can remember, my dad’s been a choir director. It’s in his blood, it’s who he is, it brings him alive.

When I was a little, little girl my dad directed a 100 (?) voice choir at a Bible school. It was a grand affair…huge Christmas concerts, Easter concerts, grad ceremonies, tours of western Canada in the spring, little quartets, octets, solos, you name it. I don’t remember a lot about those days except that when “daddy” went on tour he was gone a very, very long time. I never really knew what he was doing when he was gone…just that he was gone. I think he did that for about five years.

The last year I kind of remember. I think I must have been allowed to go to a few practices with dad and watch him direct. What an awesome atmosphere…all these voices…all this energy…all these funny little vocal excercises,…ho,ho,ho,…hee,hee,hee,…ha,ha,ha,…done as low as you could do them. Then the sirens, starting as low as you could go and gradually sliding up as high as you could go and back down, not fast, but slow, and very controlled. It was fascinating, awe inspiring, wonderful. Then they’d start singing. They’d sing the most wonderful songs, fun bouncy ones with super deep base and bits and parts all over the place, soft, slow, mesmerizing ones with close, perfect harmony. They’d stop mid-song, work on a section for a bit, then start again, then stop, then start. Never a dull moment (in my mind). I wonder how many practices I went to…probably only one…but I remember it.

When I was a teenager (I think I had to be 14) I got to join the church choir. It made me feel so grown up. My dad was the conductor for a while. Again, he was in his glory. We did all these amazing songs, many of which still come back to me after 24 years. This time it was me doing all the ho,ho,ho,…hee,hee,hee’s, the sirens, the breathing exercises. Sometimes we’d (my girlfriend and I) feel a little silly, and giggle and whisper amongst ourselves. Apparently this didn’t go over well with some of the more seasoned choir members (the all-hallowed former conductor would never have allowed it), but my dad was fine with it. Choir was meant to be fun, and it was!

I sang soprano at first, which was great. Easy…always sing the melody…no sweat! I sat next to a wonderful, slightly eccentric lady who would write letters to missionaries during choir and never know where we were supposed to be singing. Sometimes she’d darn socks and stuff, too. A few years later I thought I’d try alto…we were always short of alto’s. That was fun! Learning new parts, listening for the harmony, reading the notes. Wonderful stuff. We only had about ¼ of the people who could actually read music, the rest just sort of followed. Often there was no one in the base section who could read notes. So dad would teach the whole thing to them by ear. He’d have the whole choir sing the base line. Base is pretty boring to sing, but boy does it add a lot when they belt it out.

Then there were the tenors. Oh, my goodness! Tenors have crazy, crazy notes. All over the place. Full octave (and more) jumps! Runs all over the place, often totally different timing than the rest of the choir. Crazy stuff…and high! Yikes!! I loved when the tenors couldn’t get their lines (which was most of the time on a new song). The whole choir would sing them too! I’m sure we often spent nearly half our time learning the tenor lines. To this day I sing a combination of tenor and alto…whatever suits me. The poor guys singing tenor would sometimes feel bad, but they didn’t need to. And the whole choir would celebrate with them when they nailed a tough line. I loved the challenge of it! So did my dad. There would be the odd guy that would say “it’s too hard, we’ll never get it!” but we didn’t listen to him, and, we always got it. We pulled off some amazing pieces of music.

My dad was so much fun. He’d crack the lamest jokes when we got uptight. He’d make these crazy faces to get us to smile. (Sometimes we’d be so deep in concentration that we’d forget to smile.) He’d do crazy things with the timing, just to see who was watching and who wasn’t. He’d get us to pronounce things really funny, but then oddly enough, when we sang the words that way…it worked! Singing is different than speaking. We’d build up and quiet down, we’d “bounce” the words, we’d learn where to take a breath so we could make it through a section without a break. Everything we did, he showed us with his body. He’d get big, he’d get small, he’d “bounce”, he’d “roll”, he’d “THUNDER”, he’d “whisper”, he’d punch it, he’d slide it in….all with his body! It was the closest thing to dancing our poor little church had ever seen! If we watched him at all, we knew exactly what we were meant to do! Of course the “all-hallowed former” would never had done that. I’m sure that the “all-hallowed former” never had fun one day in his life, I’m sure he never understood that the fruit of the Spirit is JOY!!! And I’m sure his choir never sounded half so good either. We sounded good!

It was really too bad that my dad ever gave that up. I know there were a lot of complex factors involved in him giving it up, but I think a part of him died when he quit. After all, it was a part of him…of who he is at the core…it’s what makes him come alive. I saw that again last night. He took this ragtag bunch of “I can sing in the shower…surely I can sing in a choir too! How hard could it be??” type singers, and actually turned us into a choir. In four weeks we went from saying “alto? What’s that?” to sounding awesome! To pulling off a Christmas concert with full four part harmony! Not perfect by a long shot…but fun!! Best of all…I saw my dad come alive! I love you daddy! It was good to see you again!