MUSIC MEMORIES
The Chief Penguin and I went to a lovely organ concert recently. The occasion was the dedication of a new digital organ at All Saints by-the-Sea with a recital by noted local organist Sean Fleming. While listening to the swell of sound (quite marvelous really when you realize there are no pipes!), I reflected on my years in church choir, our various choir directors and organists, and what it was like to sit in the choir loft high above the congregation.
My childhood church was founded in 1811 and its first building was white frame and erected in 1817. When the congregation grew too large, the original building was moved up the street (it’s still standing and is today home to a food pantry) and a new stone Gothic edifice was built in 1869. This imposing building had a huge sanctuary with a long center aisle, balcony seating along the sides, and a choir loft and massive pipe organ in the back. It was where my family worshipped and where the Chief Penguin and I were married. Unfortunately, in 1973, the steeple fell and destroyed much of the building. Rather than trying to repair this expensive-to-heat church, the congregation built a new modern church across town.
I sang in one choir or another from first grade through high school. The church leadership valued good music and, thanks in part to that organ, was able to attract talent greater than our small town probably warranted. Frank Pethel, organist and choir director (officially titled Minister of Music), was the most memorable choir director I’ve ever known. Warm and engaging and extremely talented, he was great at coaxing eager young choristers to produce tuneful results.
Choir rehearsal was after school on Thursdays at 4:00 pm. My friend Linda and I would walk from our elementary school to the church. It seemed like a very long walk. Probably not as long as I thought and we certainly dawdled a bit on the way. In any case, smart man that he was, Frank, with his ever ready smile, would meet us on the lawn in front of the church and lead us in a fast and lively game like “Steal the Bacon.” After 15 or 20 minutes of this, we had used up enough excess energy to be ready to go inside, sit and sing.
In church, I always enjoyed watching Frank’s feet fly on the organ petals as he rose and gyrated from his seat and his hands reached and pulled out and pushed in one stop after another. His teaching made me a better singer and gave me an appreciation for sacred music. He also had a sense of humor; to make it easier for us kids to remember how to pronounce, “in excelsis…,” he said think of it as “eggshell Sis.”
Other choir directors followed Frank who was lured back home to the south and a larger church in North Carolina. Mr. K. was an adequate choir director, but with a very serious demeanor and seemingly no sense of humor, not a favorite.
Dave Caddis was a German professor at the community college and also parttime at the church. Tall and rangy with a head of thick brown hair, he always moved briskly and was somewhat irreverent. I was a teenager during his tenure and he seemed hip and kept our attention. I can never hear Schubert’s “Heilig, heilig, heilig” without singing it to myself and remembering Mr. Caddis introducing it to us.
My choir days pretty much ended when I went off to college, but I’m fond of hymns and very much enjoy hearing and singing them.
MAINE LIFE
The Stars are Fire by Anita Shreve
For this novel, Shreve has taken as her jumping off point a disastrous fire on the coast of Maine in 1947 that destroyed several towns. The opening chapters are a mood piece chronicling the daily life of Grace, a wife with two young children and a difficult husband, in the weeks leading up to event. All the mundane chores of running a house on a limited income, feeding a family, and minding the children, interspersed with bright chatter with next door neighbor and close friend Rosie. When the fire hits, Grace retreats with her children to the beach and they survive; her husband’s fate is unknown.
As usual, Shreve’s characters are believable and her story pulls the reader in. I read this book quickly and it engaged my emotions, but I found the ending fanciful. Perhaps Shreve thought her readers needed a happy ending to offset the devastation of the fire. (~ JW Farrington)
Note: All photos ©JWFarrington (some rights reserved).
