It started at STAS, as did most good things. I can’t remember if it was always
used to be just your basic singing angels under garland halo kind of
proposition. I have several vivid childhood memories of moments on the stage in
that auditorium. Scared of Sr. Rose, fake-laughing at Mrs. Pacifico when she flapped
her bent elbows with her back to audience, directing the lyrics “angel’s wings,”
crouching over my stuffed doggie to croak about what lay beyond the rainbow… I
can still smell that place.
Then in High School, there was a bona fide choir with Mr. Cisco (right, Jane?) , whom I recall as a sweatily passionate musician who awakened a beast inside me with the introduction of The Creation. I mean sure, we’d always sung and sung loudly at home and music was a central character in the story of our family. But there’s a moment after months of learning The Creation when you’re up there in your robe and the seats are full and your favorite part is coming and everyone is on key and booooom. It’s on.
I had forgotten what a lovely thing it is to sing in a choir.
I don't even know what the heck they were singing. I was too busy trying not to ugly cry.
They were good! It was no Creation, but I was transported.
|not impressed. remind you of anyface?|