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Why we sing.
Related threads:
Why We Sing, Part III (10)
Why We Sing - Jaime de Angulo (1)
Why We Sing, Part II (90)
More Why We Sing: a POW choir (13)
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Subject: RE: Why we sing. From: Amos Date: 07 Oct 09 - 04:56 PM Why We Sing Part II |
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Subject: RE: Why we sing. From: VirginiaTam Date: 30 May 09 - 11:41 AM I sing in search of that precious moment when many voices sing as one. It's nice when people sing together, but extraordinary when they sing with one voice. It happens fairly often for me. Each time, it's a wonderful and ever-new experience. I can't think of a better way of bridging the distance between people. -Joe Offer- Joe - It is magic isn't it? My Andie also loved the blending of many voices. I like to think she got that from me. I get tingle factor from that lovely listening out for, adjusting your own voice to, that cooperation within a group to make one voice. I really love it when I am not singing, only hearintg. Susan - what a lovely person Sherri sounds. One nuturing soul so lovingly describes another. Thank you for this picture of Sherri. |
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Subject: RE: Why we sing-- Claire Dillman From: wysiwyg Date: 29 May 09 - 06:49 PM corrected post Here is a continuation of THIS POST UPTHREAD. Today we laid Kelts' wife Claire to rest. This here is a matriarchal culture. The men are the muscle and sometimes the heart, but the women-- ah, now, they're the glue. At Claire's beside a few nights ago, that strength of a matriarchy was evident. The matriarchs-in-training of the generation that followed Claire and Kelts... gathering the family, including the "girls," Claire's grand-daughters. Again, family gathering.... saying last goodbyes of amazing gratitude: praise for the woman who had helped to raise them all under a strong, intact umbrella of loving strength. Words of intimate memory and appreciation for all she had given, all she had been. Telling her they were strong enough that she could go. Looking forward to seeing her again. Giving her messages for Kelts, till they can see him again, themselves. And it was evident how well-suited to their too-soon roles of leadership are these excellent young women, the grand-daughters, whose lives are beginning to bear adult fruit. Breathtakingly fit for assuming Claire's shoes, and not thinking a thing about it yet-- focused at that moment upon wishing Claire a good journey. (Such is the privilege of ministry-- to see all this implicate beauty and watch it begin to unfold.) Ah well, so later that evening she passed, "surrounded by family" as the sparse obituary language puts it. Such wondrous love that it makes 'most any witness want to TELL it. And today, in due course, the funeral. The family spent the morning in the parish house, preparing a gracious and welcoming reception for all Claire's friends and family-- all the touches Claire herself would have loved to arrange, and would have arranged without fuss. While they worked, I occupied a nearby room where I could be asked last-minute-help questions, work on music choices for the upcoming Pentecost season of the Saturday Night Service, and think my way through Scripture lessons due for those weeks to make GOOD music choices. When the time came, we all went into the big ole church to say our prayers together. And within all the things I did to "work" the "event"-- as one little molecule among the many molecules that make life happen here in this mountain-town culture-- there was another tiny molecule containing all the love there is... this one miniscule glimpse, that held my attention in the middle of the service. The bulletin guiding us through the prayers simply said, "Ave Maria, Sherri Bodine, Liszt." BINGO. I guess they call it a "backstory" in today's news-speak. Sherri is a well-known, well-loved local woman whose roots here are so deep that she sometimes has difficulty articulating what it means to be "from here." She's a friend, a parishioner, and the glue that holds a local home-hospice program together. She's a "social worker" whose joy in lay ministry is to go to the homes of the dying. There, she loves the dickens out of them with a wait-ful, watchful strength that knows how fine human beings really can be when the chips are down. She's the lady who drives all over and all around our crazy-hilly roads in any season-- whether the roads are dry or iced-- to share the timely privilege of allowing death to take its course when the time comes to do that with dignity. She's the one who organizes an annual Grief Camp for local, equally-inarticulate kids-- a place to come together to feel and say the inexpressible loss of a parent, a brother, a close young friend. A place where the grief can give way to play and laughter. And she sings. She SINGS, oh my she sings. She could have left this community at any time in her life to become a world-class opera singer, but she stayed.... and she sings.... from the heart, songs she learns by ear. Sherri, to make a long story a bit shorter, sang the arrangement the family loves, for Kelts' funeral. They had just talked about it in Claire's room. So of course she sang it for Claire..... of whom I'd had a bedside vision that she was waiting before passing, not only for the 2 grandkids who live farther away, but to "put on her wedding dress" for Kelts. Who, like the lady she was, was getting ready with joy to walk into her life with Kelts as she had once done, years and years ago. Who had waited patiently, these long lonely years, to do it again, and this time, REALLY forever. Who, in her casket last night at the local funeral home where so many families take their turns greeting and being greeted by friends, had the most adorable small smile around her eyes as her earthly remains lay before us. But back to Sherri. I had wondered, as the service progressed, where the heck she was. I had not seen her before the service got underway. "Oh Lord," I worried, "It would be too funny and too awful if everyone had assumed someone else had called Sherri, to ask her to sing, but no one DID?" But my worry was bootless.... At the right time, she quietly stepped up from behind the organist's position, took her place, and sang that Ave Maria the way only she can sing it. It struck me then-- for all I knew, she may well have zoomed into the parking lot, miraculously finding a space open, in between house calls. She may have seamlessly gone from one bedside, to church, to the next. ("May she go from strength to strength.") She's that immersed in her ministry, and is so well-suited for it, that she'd be able to do that, completely relaxed, with no worries. The point is not that she DID do that (I didn't ask), but that she so easily COULD. That's the kind of ministry to which I aspire-- that ability to be the right molecule at the right place, at the right time, to be used as God calls someone who is willing to be used. And THAT, once again, is WHY I SING. ~Susan |
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Subject: RE: Why we sing. From: wysiwyg Date: 29 May 09 - 06:25 PM Here is a continuation of THIS POST UPTHREAD. Today we laid Kelt's wife Claire to rest. This here is a matriarchal culture. The men are the muscle and sometimes the heart, but the women-- ah, they're the glue. At Claire's beside a few nights ago that strength of that matriarchy was evident. The matriarchs-in-training of the generation that followed Claire and Kelt... and the "girls" her grand-daughters. Again, family was gathering.... saying last goodbyes of amazing gratitude. Praise for the woman who had helped to raise them all, under a strong, intact umbrella of loving strength. Words of intimate memory and appreciation for all she had given, all she had been. And it was evident how well-suited to their too-soon roles of leadership are the excellent young women, the grand-daughters, whose lives are beginning to bear adult fruit. Breathtakingly fit for assuming Claire's shoes, and not thinking a thing about it yet because this was a time just to wish Claire upon her journey. Such is the privilege of ministry-- to see all this implicate beauty and watch it begin to unfold. Ah well, so she passed, "surrounded by family" as the sparse obituary language put it. Such wondrous love that it makes 'most any witness want to tell it. And today, in due course, the funeral. The family spent the morning preparing a gracious and welcoming reception for all Claire's friends and family. And then we all went into the big ole church to say our prayers together. And inside all the things I did to "work" the "event" as one little molecule among the many molecules that make life happen here in this mountain-town culture, there was another tiny molecule containing all the love there is, this one miniscule glimpse, that held my attention in the middle of the service. The bulletin guiding us through the prayers simply said "Ave Maria, Sherri Bodine, Liszt." BINGO. I guess they call it a "backstory" in today's news-speak. Sherri is a well-know, well-loved local woman whose roots here are so deep she sometimes has difficulty articulating what it means to be "from here." She's a friend, a parishioner, and the glue that holds a local home-hospice program together. She's a "social worker" whose joy in lay ministry is to go to the homes of the dying and love the dickens out of them, with a waitful, watchful strtength that knows how fine huiman beings really are when the chips are down. She's the lady who drives over and around our crazy-hilly roads in all seasons-- whether they're dry or iced-- to share the rpivilege of allowing death to take its course when the time comes to do that with dignity. She's the one who organizes a Grief Camp for local, equally-inarticulate kids, a place to come togehter to feel and express the inexpressible loss of a parent, a brother, a close young friend. And she sings. She SINGS. She could have left this community at any time in her life to become a world-class opera singer, but she stayed.... and she sings.... from the heart, songs she learns by ear. Sherri, to make a long story a bit shorter, sang the arrangement the family loves, for Kelts' funeral. So of course she sang it for Claire..... of whom I had had a bedside vision that she was waiting before passing, not only for the 2 grandkids who live farther away, but to "put on her wedding dress" for Kelts. Who, like the lady she was, was getting ready with joy to walk into her life with Kelts. Who had waited thse long years, to do it again, and this time, REALLY forever. Who, in her casket last night at the local funeral hiome where somany families take their turns greeting and being greeted by friends, had the most adorable small smile around her eyes as her earthly remains lay before us. But back to Sherri. I had wondered, as the service progressed, where the heck she was. I had not seen her before the servoce got iunderway. "OPh LOrd," I worried, what if everyone assume dsoeone else was goiing to call her to ask her to sing, but no one DID?" But my worry was to no avail. At the right time, she snuck up behind the organists' postion, took her place, and sang that Ave Maria the way only she can sing it. And it struckj me then-- for all I knew, she may well have zoomed into the parking lot, miracullously finding a space open, in between house calls. She may have gonr from one bedise, to church, to the next. She's that immersed in her ministry, and is so well-syuited for it, that she'd be able to do that, completely relaxed, with no worries. The point is not that she DID do that, but that she so easily COULD. That's the kind of ministry to which I aspire-- that ability to be the right molecule at the right place, at the right time, to be used as God calls someone to be willing to be used. And THAT, again, is |
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Subject: RE: Why we sing. From: Big Al Whittle Date: 12 Feb 08 - 03:10 AM Brilliant thread Mick. Just read it from the start. Congratulations on having started it! |
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Subject: RE: Why we sing. From: Stephen L. Rich Date: 12 Feb 08 - 12:23 AM While we're on the subject, here's a blog posted by alanabit on his MySpace page about an experience he had recently. Click here. Stephen Lee |
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Subject: RE: Why we sing. From: GUEST,Melissa Date: 11 Feb 08 - 05:47 PM Why We Sing is a wonderful children's song, it was one of the songs we sang in our chorus class, we will also be having a concert in Lowville, New York, I am not quite sure when. Anyway, I am a big fan of your music and I hope to see many more FANTASTIC songs from you and have a wonderful day. Talk to you tomorrow! your fan, Melissa |
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Subject: RE: Why we sing. From: Tyke Date: 03 Oct 03 - 02:59 PM refresh |
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Subject: RE: Why we sing. From: Joybell Date: 02 Oct 03 - 07:05 PM My life goes on in endless song Above Earth's lamentation I hear the real though far off hymn That hails a new creation No storm can shake my inmost calm, While to that rock I'm clinging. It sounds an echo in my soul How can I keep from singing. |
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Subject: RE: Why we sing. From: GUEST Date: 30 Sep 03 - 09:39 PM My goodness (or badness), I sing because it's there and I ofttimes feel the need for it, particularly for strictly tradiional songs and ballads; takes me to my roots, so I get regrounded there again. |
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Subject: RE: Why we sing. From: Amos Date: 30 Sep 03 - 09:38 PM Chinese box-jock, or a capo. Or just practice scales every day; after the initial shock of the testosterone wears off you'll get some of that upper range back. Or, you could practice your falsetto. A |
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Subject: RE: Why we sing. From: GUEST,Steve Date: 30 Sep 03 - 07:27 PM I love to sing because i love to rock... i used to be able to sing all my favorite music (classic rock) before i hit puberty (im 15 now). I still have a great voice but it falls short of the high notes i used to be able to pull off. Now i cant sing what i really want to sing does anyone have any suggestions on how i might be able to get my voice higher? |
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Subject: RE: Why we sing. From: wysiwyg Date: 18 Jun 01 - 08:13 PM Sorry to interrupt, but... PLEASE CARRY ON IN PART TWO. ~S~ |
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Subject: RE: Why we sing. From: Jeri Date: 18 Jun 01 - 05:37 PM I love this song! The song title is "The Blackbird" and was written by Dave Webber. Willa, if you'd like a just-over-1-meg MP3, e-mail me and I'll send it. I (or someone else) may get around to writing down the tune, but it may take a while. Whoops - somebody posted this song here and it has a birdie. (Also changed the post title so it didn't say "ADD.") --JC |
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Subject: RE: Why we sing. From: GUEST,Willa Date: 18 Jun 01 - 02:28 PM Wickedlad What's the tune for this, please? |
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Subject: RE: Why we sing. From: Finny Date: 18 Jun 01 - 06:49 AM I enjoy singing. For me it is a way to get totally absorbed or lost in something I love to do. It is an escape, a release. Most of all though, I love to sing for others. To give a part of myself that I don't ususally share and to enchant or spin a story into song.
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Subject: Lyr Add: AS I ROSE UP AT BREAK OF DAY From: WickedLad Date: 14 Jun 01 - 09:14 PM This is one song I collected a long while ago that i sing when I need to
AS I ROSE UP AT BREAK OF DAY
As I rose up at break of day |
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Subject: Lyr Add: GOD OF EVERYTHING (W. Gregory Thompson) From: wysiwyg Date: 14 Jun 01 - 05:38 PM Here is the other song Toadfrog linked.
GOD OF EVERYTHING |
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Subject: Lyr Add: WHY WE SING (Kirk Franklin) From: wysiwyg Date: 14 Jun 01 - 05:30 PM This is one of toadfrog's links above. (Toadfrog, we like to post lyrics here as well as giving the link so people searching here later can find it.) ~S~
WHY WE SING
Someone may be wondering
**I sing because I'm happy
Someone asked the question,
Glory Hallelujah
When the song is over,
If somebody asks you,
And when we cross the river **repeat**
Glory Hallelujah |
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Subject: RE: Why we sing. From: GUEST Date: 14 Jun 01 - 03:24 PM Marion; I think i read somewhere about an orchestra formed in Ausschwitz; very much like your story |
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Subject: RE: Why we sing. From: Lyrical Lady Date: 13 Jun 01 - 11:36 PM There are so many things I would like to do and can't because I don't have the skills (yet!). I sing because I can! LL |
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Subject: RE: Why we sing. From: toadfrog Date: 13 Jun 01 - 11:09 PM Oh! For the real reason, CLICK HERE. A real and true GOSPEL SONG!! The v. best. But then, for an alternative view, CLIK HERE. |
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Subject: RE: Why we sing. From: Big Mick Date: 13 Jun 01 - 10:16 PM Esteban, mi muy amigo, No hay necesidad de gracias. Los niños agradecen nos y tolerancia nosotros por su presencia y su amante. Pienso a gente como nosotros ayuda otras porque en hacer así pues, nos ayudamos. La cosa importante es enseña también a nuestros niños y a ésos alrededor de nosotros. Estos niños me enseñaron que mucho más que mí podría enseñarlos siempre. Todos los la mejores, Mick |
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Subject: RE: Why we sing. From: Stevangelist Date: 13 Jun 01 - 05:59 PM "I tell you, if these were silent, the very stones of the road would cry out." I sing because it's one of the things God gave me to do... and I get to sing about BEAUTIFUL stories like those. Mick, Gracias por su amor para los jovenes pobres. Yo tambien tengo un lugar en mi corazon donde que es necesario ayudar los de estaciones abajos. Stevangelist
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Subject: RE: Why we sing. From: mousethief Date: 13 Jun 01 - 05:00 PM Hmmm. My favorite verb just won't fit into that sentence, Sue, no matter how hard I shove it. Alex |
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Subject: RE: Why we sing. From: wysiwyg Date: 13 Jun 01 - 04:56 PM Still singing. Because it's the best way to [insert the verb of your choice here], sometimes. ~S~ |
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Subject: RE: Why we sing. From: Uncle_DaveO Date: 26 Dec 00 - 07:01 PM I sing songs for myself, yes, but singing for an audience is where it's at, for me! I never feel so much alive as when singing for an audience--whether one person or two hundred! Dave Oesterreich |
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Subject: RE: Why we sing. From: catspaw49 Date: 26 Dec 00 - 05:13 PM We cry more than grown fella's should don't we? Thanks Mick. Amazing my friend. I was out cooking dinner and thinking of Wesley and Bretta and the lullabyes and all........and this old thread of yours came to mind as it often does in times like these. So I came back to refresh it with a few words. I was amazed to see it already up, though I shouldn't have been. You have not only beaten me to it, but your words are heartfelt and wonderful and I can but echo what you have said. Tears, joys, and songs. I too, am in their debt.
Spaw |
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Subject: RE: Why we sing. From: Peter T. Date: 26 Dec 00 - 05:11 PM Still, and again, the thread one comes back to. A friend once said to me, "Why do we sing at such terrible times? I don't know about anyone else, but I sing because it is just too painful to breathe otherwise. When you sing you can push the damn breath in and out of of your body through the choking pain." yours, Peter T. |
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Subject: RE: Why we sing. From: GUEST,Big Mick Date: 26 Dec 00 - 04:50 PM Was there ever a more poigniant reason to sing? In my life I can't think of a time that I wanted to sing a sad song for all that Wesley and Bretta, at their young age, have had to endure. I cried more tears than a big man should have to admit to for the struggle of young Patrick to live. He, even in infancy, was a noble little warrior. Have I ever wanted to sing a joyful song more in my life? A song dedicated to this family and all that they have taught me of walking through life, full of grace? These young people helped their infant son to live every moment of his very short life. They inspired a worldwide community who smiled and cried with them at every bit of news of the wee lad's wellbeing. And when it was time to let go, and give the brave boy back to the care of the angels, they put a face on how one should face this most difficult trial with grace, love and appreciation. And then they turned to young Brendan, and the task of raising this wee man. I sing for this family for all they have faced and all they have taught. I am in their debt. Mick |
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Subject: RE: Why we sing. From: Troll Date: 03 Dec 00 - 10:50 PM I sing because I must.My mother says that I could carry a tune at 8mos old and sing at 10 mos. I have clinical depression and, before I got on medication, sometimes singing was to only thing that kept me going, that kept me alive. I could no more not sing than not breathe. I sing before audiences and am told that people like my singing but I would be singing anyway. As I said, I sing because I must. troll |
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Subject: RE: Why we sing. From: The Celtic Bard Date: 03 Dec 00 - 10:19 PM We all sing in different ways, Carol. Just keep on laughing. Or should I say, keep on singing. God bless, Rebecca |
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Subject: RE: Why we sing. From: CarolC Date: 03 Dec 00 - 07:21 PM I don't sing. Singing is too traumatic for me. I don't know why that is. I laugh. I wonder if that is so very different. Laughter is a necessary ingredient of life for me. It smoothes out the rough parts of the hard things in life that grind people down. I like to share my laughter with others. Maybe that's my way of singing them a song. Carol |
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Subject: RE: Why we sing. From: The Celtic Bard Date: 03 Dec 00 - 06:54 PM As I have read this thread, I have been touched and brought to tears by all the stories and by how people have poured out their hearts. Why do I sing? Because I can't hold back the song. I sing because music is life itself and because it helps me to get through life. Music is one of the greatest gifts that I have found in life and it has been such a wonderful blessing that I have such a talent for it. Without it, I truly do not know where I would be. I was taken away from my parents when I was 5 because the school administraters thought that I was being abused. Before finally being returned home, I spent several months in a government institution and then several more in a foster home. By that time, I had become noisy and demanding and my fostor parents didn't like me. I had only two things to hold on to and that was my stuffed dog and my music. I used to hum little songs that I made up to myself all the time. Wherever I was, I was always singing. For me, singing frees the soul. It is a way to "slip the surly bonds of earth and touch the face of God." I know that sounds cheesy but that it how it is for me. When I sing, I can feel something deep vibrating through my whole body, I can feel my soul breaking free of the pain and despair of this world. Another thing I love about singing is how it touchs people. When I was little, I went caroling with my horseback riding instructor through her neighborhood, riding her horses. We would run up to the house, ring the doorbell like mad, and run back to the group. Often the owner would come out ready to yell at whoever was playing with their doorbell and instead be greeted with a mass of singing children. During those two Christmases, I saw so many hearts melted by the simple melodies of Christmas. Those caroling outing are some of the brightest among my holiday memories. Last year, I was finally able to convince my mom and my sister to go caroling with me and the response was awesome! This year I am organizing a neighborhood-wide carol in memory of my neighbor who died just last month. Bob loved Christmas. I think it was his favorite time of year and he made the rest of the neighborhood love it with him. I think he would love the fact that the neighborhood is coming together at his favorite time. And it's not just Christmas songs that I have seen touch people. Last spring I had a history class that I had to do a prestentation for. Being part Irish, I decided to do the presentation on Irish history in the 1800s. I also decided that the best way to present Irish history was the way that the Irish do: through song. One of the songs I picked was "Kilkelly," a beautiful heart-wrenching song about a father writing to his son who has emmigrated to America. The letters span 32 years and at the end of each one the father asks when his son will come home. In the end, the father dies without seeing his son. I gave the presentation to my mom and when I finished that song, she was crying. What I had forgotten was that the aniversity of her father's death was coming up. That song had reminded her of her dad. When I sang that song in the class, I watched as this one lady in the front row started crying. She was an adult student taking night classes. When I talked to her after the class, she told me that she had emmigrated from Korea and left her parents behind. That song had reminded her of them. That is the power of music, to make people laugh, to make people cry, to meet them right where they are and sing out the words that their hearts are dying to say. To allow the singer to forget himself in the moment and release his soul to fly with the song. That is why I sing. God bless, Rebecca |
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Subject: RE: Why we sing. From: wysiwyg Date: 01 Oct 00 - 03:56 PM Amos, look what you wrote-- up above in February. Thanks for getting me to sing. Oh I been singing. But something was missing, especially in my church singing. Thanks for helping me look for it. (Another reason why I sing.) I think I have started to find it. ~S~
I'm not sure the following song is done yet, but... |
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Subject: RE: Why we sing. From: Lena Date: 10 Sep 00 - 07:31 AM |
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Subject: RE: Why we sing. From: KT Date: 10 Sep 00 - 02:45 AM For the lady who cries when she hears Danny Boy, cause it reminds her of her son's recent funeral....for the old man who jumps up with a cry of joy at the sound of an old song he hasn't heard in 50 years, "Pack Up Your Troubles"..... for the child who sings along on "Jingle Bells," at the top of her lungs (in mid July)..... for the woman who sits alone, trying to hide the tears while recalling her husband's love for the song, "Red River Valley".....for the couple celebrating 50 years of marriage, holding hands and singing along on "Let Me Call You Sweetheart".....for the child who, though he can't sing along, signs "more" when the Itsy Bitsy Spider goes up the spout again....for these, and so many others........that's why. |
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Subject: RE: Why we sing. From: hesperis Date: 09 Sep 00 - 11:26 PM Wow. Beautiful stories. Thanks, all of you. I sing because I am music. I have always been music. The music comes through me and touches, opens up human heart to human heart. Music is one of the things that saved my life, and I need to pass that gift on. Love, hesperis |
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Subject: RE: Why we sing. From: GUEST,Yum Yum Date: 09 Sep 00 - 07:42 PM It's some times easier said than done. I have just had another lump in my throat reading your last comment, thanks for your reply. Sometimes we all feel alone and can't share our deepest feelings with anyone, (even our closest) In my part (I hope it was a momentary lapse} I felt by reading your stories, akin! DONT GET THE WRONG IDEA, I'M NOT USUALLY SO SOFT. (this is me being Yum Yum again) being serious, it is good to know that all us trad/folkies have a heart! Thanks again Big Mick. |
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Subject: RE: Why we sing. From: Big Mick Date: 09 Sep 00 - 09:56 AM Yum Yum, I sincerely hope that you recognize the gift you gave, and the enormity of the gift he gave back. You touched this man to the extent that he sent you a message before he left on the next part of the journey. His spirit recognized yours for what it is. When you have the gift of song, you have an obligation to share it, to use it in an appropriate way. We spend the first part of our lives learning to sing. At some point, if we recognize the depth of our souls, we realize that the gift we have given isn't about making us "famous". It is about sharing and passing on the stories of who and what we are to another generation. Sandy and Caroline Paton discovered this early on and have made a whole life of their sharing. Art Thieme is another example of this. He passes on in so many ways. Ed Trickett is another. So is Dan Milner (Liam's Brother). You apparently have a gift, my friend. You shared it with your friend and he gave it back in spades. Don't squander it, Yum Yum. Sing...........and pass it on. It makes the lump go away. All the best, Big Mick |
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Subject: RE: Why we sing. From: Big Mick Date: 09 Sep 00 - 09:37 AM Lena, a universe was contained in your post. Go back and read its paragraphs, and then step back and look at the content of them individually and then as a whole. Keep singing, friend Lena, keep singing. And keep thinking and hearing your mothers voice. There is much more you have to share with us. Big Mick |
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Subject: RE: Why we sing. From: wysiwyg Date: 09 Sep 00 - 06:16 AM It's amazing. I know all about the power of good news and strong stories to bring healing tears. And yet it still feels like a brand-new surpise how the good tears flow upon reading any of these again. And THAT, dear ones, is why I sing better and better all the time, and more easily, and sometimes without even thinking. I treasure you all, and every story you have lived. ~Susan |
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Subject: RE: Why we sing. From: GUEST,Yum Yum Date: 08 Sep 00 - 06:11 PM I was in hospital at the beginning of this year for a month or so and at the time didn't realise how ill I was. I met a man in the same ward as myself who had a heart so full of joy he made everyone around him feel happy when he was in their company. We became close friends and my wife and I visited him when I got out of hospital. He developed a taste for traditional ballads and asked me to sing him a couple. He said, If I could sing like that I'd sing all the time. I don't feel like singing right now as the lump in my throat hurts. I was at his funeral today. His wife gave me a message from him. Keep singing, 'cos your looks wont get you into heaven. (always the joker) But after reading all of this thread I've decided I will keep on singing. Thanks Mick, I guess I just needed to share my feelings. Your stories touched a nerve. I think mudcatters are BIG softies....KEEP SINGING. |
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Subject: RE: Why we sing. From: Lena Date: 07 Sep 00 - 09:17 PM Gesu'Gesu',I wanted to write something but Big Mick's message amde me cry and now I'm so confused I can't remember...Ah,yes. It was a stupid dry scientifical thought.i heard one of Chatwin's last hypothesis about human traits around a month ago,it was about our need for storytelling and songs.when we discovered fire,we basically didn't have anything to fear anymore.We didn't have to stay awake all night to fight against big cats to come over in the cave and get us.Or bears.Or whatever(it's likely that children's fear for darkness comes from this anchestral istinct).So we needed to invent something else to fear about.there came dragons,evil wizards,dangers and black magic,stories and stories,to keep our adventurous fear trained...and also,what gets us humans is our capacity of learning.Which is enhanced from our comunication facilities-language,gestures,ets.As you all know,we learn from every story in every song.i learned a lot from Big Mick's story.It made me feel And besides,I sing because I miss my mother's voice,I sing because I don't have wings,and I sing even if I'm hopless as a singer because often it's not easy to cry for my troubles and I need to make up somehow.
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Subject: RE: Why we sing. From: mousethief Date: 07 Sep 00 - 03:47 PM I sing because it feels good to me. But also for the same reason I tell jokes: I want to make poeple happy, and (in spite of my voice) sometimes people tell me that hearing a certain song made them happy. I'll never make the world a better place by leaving some lasting achievement like a bridge or a dam or something like that. All I have to leave are my kid, my stepkids, my songs, and what little joy I have been able to bring to others through my humor and music. I feel like if I've made somebody laugh today, it's been a worthwhile day for me. I imagine after I die, and the angels and demons are wrangling over my soul, and the demons trot out all the sins I committed, the angels will point to the people who laughed at my jokes and smiled at the songs I sang. Hopefully that will tip the scales.
O..O |
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Subject: RE: Why we sing. From: Big Mick Date: 06 Sep 00 - 11:41 PM You, my friend, are very welcome. It is why this thread is here. I found your remarks very appropriate, touching and needed. Remember that this thread is personal, it is about what causes us each to sing. Your fears about how it would be recieved were unfounded. Thanks for being here and sharing it with us. Mick |
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Subject: RE: Why we sing. From: wysiwyg Date: 06 Sep 00 - 06:30 PM This is an account of what I saw and thought and felt last Thursday evening. I have been trying to see how to share it here, and I was not sure why. Then I saw Mick's thread, back up on the day's choices, and it reminded me what he had said in a PM, when I tried to tell him how hard it is sometimes to write what is in my heart, here. He said something about WHY WE SING.... so here is the stuff that tumbled out from my heart on Thursday. Raw. Some of it looks like I am inviting discussion. I ain't, actually. Just saying how I felt. Then. Not now. Kelts Dillman died. I was there. How can the family thank me for being there when I was the one benefiting from the chance to see them in action with each other? When all I was doing was being obedient to God's nudge to go to the hospital tonight? I knew to go there tonight. He died while we were there. I will get to that part. The family. They are so simply loving towards one another, several generations, and so able to receive it from one another. And so loving toward Kelts, cheering him on, while wishing he could stay too. So... elegant in their movements to get closer to each other, hold each other, lift each other up bodily as grief sagged them.... taking turns doing that, holding and being held, men, women, all of them... grandchildren OUR KIDS' ages who know all about sitting quietly at the bedside just stroking a hand and looking all Sugar Dog, love shining through tears not even noticed by the one shedding them, just loving that man so dearly that to be away at this time would have been silly. Willing to see and feel all of it to be there, not out of duty... looking all their love, and speaking it, and taking time to hear each other, and always touching Kelts, lying there all shriveled and brown yellow and bruised all over from his body shutting down... talking with us out in the hall while nurses changed Kelts' diapers, twice, because his bowels had shut down yesterday and now were not only out of control but producing what we used to call a bloody flux... we stood there telling real life stories, all of us, about what is really important, looking love at each other, smelling that odor coming through the door, and them not embarrassed we were there, and us not embarrassed either.... so simple, my friends, everything so very simple and clear. Jesus holds all this up. And going back into the room, Kelts' son Gary, who has EMT training, thinking they would give another shot of morphine. First Hardi prayed over, anointed, forgave, and released Kelts with lovely prayers inviting the angels to welcome him. There is one prayer he also uses sometimes at the healing Mass, "May whatever good you have done or evil you have endured be unto you for the increase of grace." Or something very close, the end may be wrong, but the good we have done and the evil endured-- I know that part is right. Kelts was quite out of it during this, I had held his hand for a few minutes and he was so cold already, not gone yet but already going and so cold.... agonal breathing every few seconds, about 12 breaths per minute, very end-time type breathing, and it seemed like no one was there, but I knew he was, deeper than I could sense. Hardi could though, and anointed him and prayed as I described, and there was this deep sigh of release at the end of the prayers, as Kelts somehow heard us all recite the Lord's Prayer, and then the atmosphere in the room spontaneously shifted. No one said a word, but the four family members present at that point all suddenly increased their attention, their intentness, and fixed upon Kelts, whose breaths got slower, more labored, less life-giving, and everyone there, I could tell, knew the time had come and was urging him on. They had already told us, when we arrived, that they had assured Kelts during his last lucid moments that they were all there, everyone had come and was there, they were all fine, they were all taking care of each other, and he was free to go, and that they wished he could stay but that they would let him go easily... to go ahead where he needed to go... And as I sat there SEEING all of this, suddenly into my head popped Kelts' firm intention, so happy and boyish-- "I gotta go-- there's something I have to go find...." and I mentally prayed, "Go! Go on!" And then, confused, bemused, "But I don't know where to look, how to find..." And then Jesus, "That's all right. Come along, I'll take you." And a gladness from Kelts, two more breaths as family hung on each one (hoping there would not be another)... a little suffing sigh... and then the nurse, who had been waiting to see about another shot, listened to his heart and said he was gone, and started unhooking the O2, and the whole family just came closer to him and to one another. Claire, his wife, had been kissing his forehead every few moments, and did once more, and then they sort of stepped forward naturally and gladly into their tears, and began circulating around to each other to be held... Hardiman led another prayer, during which time two more grandchildren came back from dinner to learn that Kelts had gone, and more excellence ensued. Such are the brainwashed people (Christians) some of you fear. I can't seem to get to the tears just below the surface but they are happy tears at seeing such fineness, and wishing so hard you could have been there. You would have SEEN it all instantly, and it would have made things seem so different. I know you can see. I know you can. I KNOW you can SEE! When you LOOK. There the tears begin, and there goes the spelling as I cannot see clearly. I KNOW YOU CAN SEE. WHY WON'T YOU LOOK. And I get so mad at myself, for holding back, for being scared to say it all out as big as I feel it, what I think, what I feel, what I see, what I know. At least what I battle to say, here at Mudcat, I can say more clearly now than ever before to others, but I always want more clarity, more flexibility... so I have to keep working on how to say such things, and that makes it easier to tell someone else, and then I try even harder to tell it here-- I think I have it set up so you will never quite hear me as much as I want to say things, so that I will always have a higher place to reach to. I should change that, and maybe I just did. But I wish you had been there, and here come tears again. Because there was something there for you that was so much simpler than all the fancy words I could ever use to undo the fancy words that came bearing hurt. Words, you see, are the problem. I'll tell you one thing. To have Jesus show me, as He does sometimes, how much He loves, and not be able to find words that someone can hear to tell them about it with, is very sad. I understand now why people go around saying, "Jesus loves you!" Which always sounded so incredibly hokey and presumptuous that I could not imagine ever saying it. I know that He loves us all that way, theoretically, but one of these days He is going to show it to me from inside as He has with some of my friends, and I am telling you now that you will hear about it. It's why I sing.... IT'S WHY I SING!! Oh Mick. Thank you. ~S~ |
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Subject: RE: Why we sing. From: Marion Date: 06 Sep 00 - 04:39 PM I think from now on when I sing the Ballad of Springhill, I'm going to sing "Maurice Ruddick, he up and said..." (unless someone can tell me who Caleb Rushton is). While I'm in the neighbourhood, here's another article about the power of music that Big Mick told me a year ago should go into this thread. Again, sorry about the length, but links to newspaper sites expire. ---------------------------- The inspiring power of music PoW choir moves man to share freedom of song with the world Ron Corbett The Ottawa Citizen, September 29 It started with a newspaper story. Little more than a review, really. There had been a choir performance at the Perth Concert Hall in Australia to mark the 75th anniversary of the South Australian Red Cross Society. The date was Aug. 14, 1990. The performance -- by the Perth Girls' Choir, under the direction of Colin Curtis -- was covered by the Australian newspaper. A small review was published the next day. That story was read by Martin Meader, a recently graduated film student from Melbourne. "The story just leapt off the page at me," remembers Mr. Meader. "I read the story, then I read it again and I thought, 'this is a beautiful story.' Right away, I needed to know more." That small review, and the quest to "know more," set off a sequence of events that culminated in 1997 with the release of Paradise Road, a movie starring Glenn Close and Frances McDormand. It has also brought Mr. Meader to Ottawa this week, where he will be leading a community singing workshop at the Cartier Place Hotel on Sunday. What the audience in Perth heard that night was the first public performance of songs written in a Japanese PoW camp during the Second World War. The prisoners in the camp were women. Most were nurses. Many were held captive for nearly four years under brutal conditions, and under such conditions -- with their Japanese guards violently opposed to what they were doing at the outset -- they formed a choir. The women rehearsed in the camp kitchen while doing chores, and late at night while pretending to sleep in their bunks. Their musical scores were copied from memory into children's workbooks, the workbooks then hidden away. The choir consisted of 32 members and was set up with a four-part vocal structure. It was classical in both song selection and temperament. Because there were many nationalities in the camp, there were no spoken words. The effect of all that -- unless you've already seen the movie or heard the score -- is unlike anything you've heard before. Mr. Meader wonders about the effect of the music to this day. "When I was trying to raise money for the film, I always made sure I had a tape of the Perth concert with me," he says. "Whenever I played the tape, people just started to open up. "I have seen bankers break down in tears after listening to the tape. There is something cathartic about the music the women created. It might actually be divine. I think that's a possibility." The story of how that music came to be -- and it is more or less truthfully told in the movie Paradise Road -- is, once again, unlike anything you have heard before. It all began on Feb. 12, 1942, on the day the Japanese navy broke through the British naval defences around Singapore. - - - For all practical purposes, Singapore fell once the British defences were breached. Immediately, there was an attempted mass evacuation of all civilians, many of whom were either European refugees or British residents. Women and children were herded onto ships and sent away. Many of those ships -- and it remains one of the worst atrocities committed in the war -- were shelled and shot at by the Japanese navy and airforce. Ships were sunk. Thousands of people drowned. Those who didn't drown either swam or were swept ashore at places like Sumatra or Bangka Island. The lucky ones were then sent to prisoner of war camps. The unlucky ones were gunned down on beaches as soon as they landed. The PoW camps were designed, and functioned, to break the spirit of the women who survived. The prisoners were poorly fed, continually beaten and deprived of all rights to associate. Their children could not receive any formal school instruction. Prayer was banned. Any sort of meeting or public gathering was forbidden. And yet, the women rebelled against all that. Not by planning an escape, or trying to overpower their captors, or by some other grand and aggressive gesture. They simply formed a choir. "It is quite inspiring the solution they came up with to survive life in the prison camp," says Cara Kelson, a concert pianist from Australia who has written extensively on the PoW choir. "It was such a graceful solution. Yet so strong." Initially, and this is shown quite well in Paradise Road, the Japanese guards were adamantly opposed to the choir. The women were beaten whenever they tried to sing. They had their food rations cut. They were harassed and humiliated. The woman who formed and conducted the choir, Norah Chambers (played by Glenn Close in the movie) even had to beat a dog to death once, for refusing to disband the choir. After nearly a year of this, however, a strange and unexpected thing happened. One night the Japanese guards broke into the kitchen, where another clandestine choir practice was occurring, but instead of immediately beating the women, they hesitated. They hesitated, and in a few seconds they started shuffling their feet self-consciously. They lowered their weapons. They listened. Then they left. The next night the guards returned again. This time they sat on the floor until the end of the rehearsal. Then they left without saying a word. Although the camp policy against group association never officially changed, the choir was allowed to practice from then on in peace. There were even concerts near the end of the war. "Think for a moment what these women did," says Mr. Meader. "In the middle of a war, under these hellish conditions, they discovered and found solace from one of the oldest truths we know. "Music touches everyone. It's as simple as that." - - - Betty Jeffrey is 91 this year. She lives in Melbourne today, and when contacted by telephone, she says she can spare only a few moments to talk. She's rather busy. But the choir, of course she remembers the choir. How could she ever forget it? "It was Norah who came up with the idea, and she was such a grand conductor," says Ms. Jeffrey. " I don't know how we could have survived without the choir. Everytime I was singing in the choir, I completely forgot where I was. I wasn't in the camp any more. I was free and someplace else." Ms. Jeffrey is one of the last surviving members of that long-ago choir. Her choir "workbook," which contained not only musical scores, but also diary entries, was published in 1952 and became a best-seller in Australia. The book is now on permanent display at Australia's war museum. Yet it is the choir, and the never-heard-before-on-the-planet vocal ar- rangements, that she remembers best about the war. "There were 32 of us in the choir, and many of us could not even communicate," she remembers. "There were Dutch women and Malaysian women, women from other countries as well. "For many of us, there were only two things we shared. We were prisoners. And we sang." In the end, the music was something even the guards shared. Ms. Jeffrey remembers how the guards stopped their harassment of the choir, a change that seemed to occur overnight. In the last year of the war there was even a set, and rather communal, routine to evenings in the camp. The choir would gather to sing. The guards would gather to listen to the haunting, wordless music. Then everyone, without saying a word, would head off to sleep. The camp moved frequently during the war -- back and forth from Sumatro to Bangka Island -- before finally being liberated in September 1945. Ms. Jeffrey was so ill at the time of liberation she spent the next two years in hospitals, trying to recover from TB, among other diseases. The concert in Perth in 1990 was a restaging of the 1944 Christmas concert the choir gave in the PoW camp. The original musical scores were used. Ms. Jeffrey was in attendance. "I've never experienced anything like that Christmas concert in 1944 ," says Ms. Jeffrey. "We were all in tears by the end of it. What music, what singing, means to me today, it's almost impossible to describe to you. "That choir changed my life. It changed a great many people's lives." - - - Martin Meader is one person whose life was changed by the music that came out of the women's PoW camp. After hearing an amateur tape of the Perth concert, and then hearing the full story of the choir, he set out to make a movie. He had never made a movie before. Yet somehow the music from the camp opened every door that he needed to have opened. Australian director Bruce Beresford (Driving Miss Daisy) agreed to direct the movie after Mr. Meader played him the tape from the Perth concert. A Los Angeles investor, initially skeptical, signed a cheque for $8 million after hearing the tape. All the actresses in the movie signed on after hearing the tape. The movie cost $26 million to make and garnered glowing reviews. It also gave Mr. Meader a new calling in life. "I realized that something powerful was at work here," says Mr. Meader. "There is a huge interest nowadays in community singing, a huge interest in choirs in general. "I think that's because a lot of us spend our days now in front of televisions and computers, staring at all these little boxes. The feeling you have when you're singing with other people -- the feeling those women must have experienced in the PoW camp -- we're missing that from our lives today." A trained musician (guitar and saxophone) before he ever read that long-ago news story, Mr. Meader has gone on to form two choirs in Australia and now gives community singing workshops around the world. He will give a workshop at the Cartier Place Hotel on Sunday. He will also conduct local choirs (Ashbury and the Ottawa-Carleton Police choir) in rehearsals through the week. "Anyone can sing," says Mr. Meader. "These workshops are for people who have been told they can never sing. If you can speak, you can sing. It's that simple. "And the feeling you get from singing, there really is no other experience like it. It gives you freedom. Just like it did for those women during the war." Ms. Jeffrey, at 91, agrees with that assessment. "I still sing," she tells me with a laugh. "I'm a little croakier than I used to be, but the feeling for me is exactly the same. It has never changed." I ask her to describe the feeling. She has a one-word answer: "Joy."
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Subject: RE: Why we sing. From: WyoWoman Date: 25 Aug 00 - 09:42 PM That is an absolutely wonderful story. Once again, I bow my head in shame for my country and the idiocy of our apartheid. But what a glorious hero's tale. I've sometimes wondered if I'd go crazy being incarcerated because I wouldn't be able to remember more than a few words of any given song. Thanks for sharing that. WW |
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Subject: RE: Why we sing. From: Big Mick Date: 22 Aug 00 - 07:30 PM Marion, when I started this thread nearly 2 years ago, I wasn't exactly sure what I was after, but I had a number of things in mind. I wanted us to examine our motives for performing, our motives for singing particular songs. Regardless of why we started, or why we are where we are today with our singing, I wanted to see if people sensed the power of the songs we sing and the tunes we play. It was important to me to get folks to feel the empowerment that doing what we do gives them, and gives others. Your post here, of that story is one of the the best examples of one of the things I was hoping would be accomplished. I knew of that story, but I am very pleased that you made it a part of the permanent record here. Thanks for a great post. All the best, Big Mick |
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