In the choir room there’s a little house. It has a front with a door about four feet tall and two sides. The back is open, but set up against the plate glass picture window. It’s painted gray, with a curtain over the door.
So last night we were singing something — Andre Crouch, maybe, or Rutter — and Blue Eyes said, “How come the Director has never come out of that door?”
It was one of those questions that doesn’t occur to me, but once it has been pointed out… Well, why hasn’t he?
I asked him. In my enthusiasm, I didn’t wait for, say, the end of the phrase or rehearsal or anything. “Hey!” I called out in a nice clear voice. “How come you’ve never come out of that little door at the beginning of rehearsal?”
The question caught the imaginations of many choir members.
The Director said he wouldn’t ever do that.
We continued with the rehearsal.
This was probably the most disruptive thing I did yesterday.