At this time of year I don't do many activities that are off the farm. We do so much in-house socializing and we spend so much time working and eating and talking together that we don't think much about the world beyond. This is a blessing for us in these times.
But every Sunday evening I go to choir, and that is my favorite off-farm activity. I have been singing in the choir since Rebecca was 13, which is 13 years ago. This sticks in my mind because that was the year that Betsy Giller died and singing in the choir for her funeral was an honor and so hard. I was new and I didn't know all the tunes yet and I could barely read music and it was so hard to keep from crying.
I joined the choir because Nell suggested it, of course. She has managed to maneuver me into most of my off-farm pursuits (swimming being a notable exception as she is not excited about pools). Before that I had sung at Oberlin in Musical Union, a group of hundreds of singers who all knew far more than I did, and the assumptions about knowledge and experience were way out of line with what I had. I memorized my parts. It was fun and confusing. Before that I had spent all my growing up years singing with my siblings and cousins, from ballads to madrigals to folk songs.
When I joined the synagogue choir, I got to sit next to a very kind alto who has perfect pitch and is happy to help with orienting flustered newbies who haven't even learned to count yet. She helped me organize my music and she pointed to where we were and she made me feel welcome. For a few years I just refrained from singing the first note, having zero confidence that I would ever know what that note was supposed to be. I came in on the second note, no problem.
The choir went through some transitions of leadership and suffered some identity crises with changes in clergy. But most of us kept on coming to rehearsal anyway. We just love singing.
It has taken me years to learn what we are really doing -- there are dozens of versions of songs by Jewish composers that use the liturgy from the prayerbook. Once a month, the choir sings some menu of those versions during a Friday night service. We are there to lead the congregation in song, singing prayers. And then we sing for four long services at the High Holidays. And we usually sing a Chanukah concert and a spring concert. There is a lot of rehearsing over the course of the year.
It is the rehearsing that I love the best. And now that we have a new choir director who is also the accompanist, we are on a roll. There is no cross-channel miscommunicating between the director and the accompanist. He gets to do it all, and luckily he is talented enough to use his eyebrows and his breath and his face and one hand to cue us in and out. He listens really closely and makes us practice our vowels and our dynamics and our breathing. We do it over and over until it sounds right. He is enthusiastic and demanding but not hard to please. He starts rehearsals on time and ends them punctually. His piano playing seems effortless and perfect.
Lately, on Friday nights the alto section doesn't seem to be showing up, except for me. Five years ago this would have terrified me. Now I take it as a challenge if I have to sing my part all by myself. It's not my favorite but I learn so much from singing the harmony alone. Sometimes I do it just right and other times I get lost but what are they going to do, fire me?
It has helped that I have also been taking piano lessons for about ten years, which means that I have learned to read music, finally. It is all so satisfying. I will never be a soloist and I probably won't ever get past Early Intermediate piano books, but it doesn't matter. Just being able to sing my part in a group of equally engaged singers fills me with joy.
Because I come from a family of enthusiastic proselytizers, I can't help thinking that everyone would love to sing on a regular basis. It feels so meaningful, to learn something with other people, to work on a new piece, to get better at it, to sing with gusto. Why wouldn't everyone want to have a chance to do that?
It takes years to get settled into a new routine, find your spot in a new group, become comfortable being vulnerable. But it is worth it. Join a choir, everybody!
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