I’m still reading The Tenor Wore Tap Shoes. Yesterday we had a meeting with clients. Then #2 daughter headed back south for a visit, I wrote up all the blog posts for the day, and finally I went to the rehearsal of the choirlet.
I enjoy spending time with those ladies. There’s such a variety of backgrounds and personalities in the group that conversations are unpredictable. We might hear about someone’s delivery of a load of pigs or about someone’s conviction that all her conversations lately end up being about bowels. (I thought she said “vowels,” by the way, and pressed her for details.) We also sing all manner of stuff. Last night there were a bunch of choruses from the 1970s and 1980s, and I was goaded into my usual rant about how churches say “contemporary music” and then serve up stuff from a previous century, and had to explain that this rant is just a reflex by now. I really dislike most of those songs, though, and often find the ones I don’t dislike boring. I made them sing “Beautiful Isle of Somewhere,” though, not in retaliation, but because the title is so funny.
We also sang “Broken Pieces” by Ruby Kitchen. This is sort of a sultry cowgirl camp meeting song with bad rhymes, and I think the congregation will like it a lot. I will be singing deTar with the Presbyterians on Sunday and won’t be there to sing it, so I sat out and listened as the ladies sang it. They were standing there on the screen porch, dancing around a bit and coming in and out of focus with their harmonies, and I was very touched by how much fun they were having.
We’ve been singing together for over three years, spending almost every Thursday evening with music first and then cake and conversation afterwards. We’ve seen one another through health worries and job losses and troubles with our kids and changes in the church and travels and good deeds and all kinds of adventures.
This group probably demonstrates that the unlikeliest people can become friends, given enough time.
It also makes me remember how, when I was a young woman, I would see groups of older ladies and think how much fun they were having, like teenaged girls. I always wanted to be one of those ladies when I got old, and I think maybe I will be. Assuming, that is, that I continue hanging out with the choirlet.