A love Affair (part deux)

(this is NOT me singing, it's the original score)

Against the opinion of my singing choir mates, I sang that Sunday. In their eyes, it was a transgression to the unwritten code of choirs back then: "instruments" played and "voices" sang, and since I was not really that good with the guitar - the teaching method of choice having been "sit at the end of the guitar bench and follow what the others are doing", I kid you not - I was not only any musically barrier jumper but I was not even talented enough in the guitar to be of enough "status" to be accepted among them.



In retrospect, a whole lot of things could be placed at the feet of teenage angst: we were all trying to find our places, our identities; and those who had found theirs would see this unwanted change as a threat to their "safe" place: if I had "morphed" from guitar player to guitar player/singer, then maybe their status was equally mobile. And that was scary, at least it is when you are fourteen.



I kept going to practices, covering for the singers who did not show up and so becoming sort of a understudy for every voice: if there were not enough guys, I would even sing those parts. I ended up learning each and every part of every song. Despite the cold shoulder of a few divas, I admit I enjoyed those days very much.



In the end, I realized that for me, music and singing in Mass was not only a stage (no pun intended) but were too important. After our director left for college we wandered like shepherd less sheep, and with no recognizable, permanent guidance (even the Priest who had brought us together had been sent to a bigger parish) we began slowly to dissolve as a choir. Some friendships remained, but in the case of most, the bond we had shared had dissolved, and that, as they say, was that.