Music! Music! Music!

Music hath charms to soothe the savage breast,
to soften rocks, or bend a knotted oak....

A bride mourning the death of her groom
says these words in Act 1, Scene 1 of
William Congreve's 1697 play, "The
Mourning Bride." It is often misquoted,
substituting beast for breast. Almeria,
the bride, is bemoaning the unrelenting
pain of her grief, curious as to why music
is not able to give her the healing peace
she seeks. Music is comforting.
Music may be soothing. It seeps right
into the depths of our souls. But music
cannot make the pain of grief
miraculously or magically disappear.
Nonetheless, it can and does distract
and delight us. Music can make a
happy occasion happier, a sad occasion
easier to bear.

In fact, Karl Paulknack concluded
in an article in the Christian Science Monitor
that we actually need music in order to survive.
"Music finds the invisible pieces inside our
hearts and souls...like a telescope that looks in
rather than out." As a singer and musician
myself, I agree with Mr. Paulknack's conclusion.

We each have our individual tastes in music.
Some love classical. Others love jazz, bluegrass,
or country. The all time favorite hymns like "How
Great Thou Art", "In the Garden" and "Amazing Grace"
please just about anyone. But no one style answers the
needs of everyone. In fact every generation's music tends
to offend the preceding generation. I clearly remember how
much my parents hated The Beatles. And their parents were
scandalized by the likes of Elvis Presley. Thank goodness,
we have an abundance of styles to soothe all the savage breasts
of any age throughout the world.

I can't remember life without music. As soon as
I came home from the hospital, Mom had me listening
to the radio. We loved the Jim Deline show on WSYR.
I learned to sing listening to the harmonies of Norma
and Sandy Bigtree. Even then, I wanted to sing like
them. I couldn't even talk yet. I memorized songs
as easily as I memorized the ABC's. Before I started
Kindergarten my repertoire of popular and Sunday
School songs was quite extensive.

My Aunt Frances lived in NYC. She had been
a missionary to the Philippines. I loved it when she
came home for a visit. She was my first piano teacher.
On the unheated porch at Grandma's house, with a
quite out of tune piano, she taught me to read music.
I can still play the first two songs she gave me to
learn.

In 2nd grade, Mrs. Kaltenbach and Mrs. Stauffer
taught us songs like "Oh My Papa" and the "Lichtensteiner
Polka" along with many others. I still remember all the
words to the Papa song but the German has evaporated.
This was in addition to a regular music class. We also
learned to square dance with these two teachers. We must
have been good because we got to appear on television. It
was the best year of elementary school for me because it was
the year with the most music.

The year I received a violin from my grandfather
and free lessons was memorable too. I was in fourth or
fifth grade. We got piano lessons whenever Mom and Dad
had enough money. This meant a trip to the big city of
Oneida. Mom would drop us - and our $3 each - off at Doris
Rhinehart's house on Stone Street. We'd get to read comic
books and pet her Dalmation "Pepper" while the others played
their scales and lesson pieces. I took more lessons at Crane
School of Music in Potsdam after I was married. It was hard
for me to understand why I couldn't have had lessons all the
time. It is a regret with which I have had to make my peace.

In Junior High, I was blessed to be offered free organ
lessons. The catch was that I had to agree to become the next
church organist so that my teacher, Arlene Alger could retire
and get married. I not only became the organist for the United
Methodist Church but also played for the Presbyterians. In fact,
they paid better. I earned $3 a week for my church and a whopping
$5 a Sunday from the Presbyterians. I played until I went off to
college. I didn't pick up the organ playing again until I needed
a paying job to help pay for seminary. I was a church organist
again for two of the three years of seminary. By the third year
I was a supply pastor.

As a pastor there was precious little time to play piano or
organ. But I count it as one of my blessings that I was able to
play for a few months for the Trinity Episcopal Church in Gouverneur.
Their organ was nearly identical to the one on which I first learned
to play - and, except for one hymn which it ended up that none
of us really knew - I hope that the music soothed listeners' souls
as much as it did mine as I played.

Recently I've started using those performance trax CD's and
learning NEW songs!!! What fun! It can take me as long as a
year to get a song performance ready. I will always regret not
learning to sing professionally too. When my thyroid was removed
in 1978, the vocal chords were scraped and damaged. There was
no way of knowing if the damage was permanent. I had no voice
at all for more than six months - six very frustrating months.
Fran, my daughter, was a toddler - an active, always getting
into trouble toddler. I had to wear a whistle around my neck
in order to keep her little butt safe and sound. I made a deal
with God - I know, we're not supposed to do that but I wasn't a
pastor then and I didn't know any better.

I told God that if my voice returned, I would learn to sing.
Eventually my voice did return and I did manage to get in a year's
worth of voice lessons before the divorce. When I first joined the
choir at the church in Norwood, my voice could barely be heard and
I was terrified of solos. Now I'll sing at the drop of a hat, don't
usually need a mike and the more solos the better. Many thanks to
Sandy Richards for giving me that first solo and encouraging me to
sing.

All of which brings me to the purpose of all these music, music,
music memories. Four years ago, I had this vision of a tent meeting
taking place at the Pennellville UMC. It was NOT a fundraiser. It
was an evangelism event!!! Music! Music! Music! I woke up all
excited. The excitement died in the face of reality. How could
we ever do such a thing? It was just a dream. And I put it in the
back of my mind. Two years ago, we had an ecumenical Lenten
study group. We shared visions God had given us. And when I
shared mine, the response was - "why can't you do it???" "Just
do it!"

I nearly gave up twice because no one was showing up at
planning meetings. One of the last things Dorothy Bell shared
with me was how excited she was about this event happening in
Pennellville. I didn't have the heart to tell her I had given
up. After she died last December, I called one more meeting
and FINALLY we got plans off the ground.

It has taken two years but the tents are rented. The
portapotties are due to be delivered. And the following music
groups have agreed to perform: Tired Hands String Band,
Diamond Someday, The Atkinson Family, Dennis Shortslef,
Les and Linda Green. Chris McCabe, Diana Gardiner and myself
will be filling in between groups. And Alice Popps will do a
couple of Native American dances around supper time. Watch for
more publicity of this event!

Meanwhile mark your calendar for Saturday, August 1, 2009
and head for 389 County Route 54. There will be music from
noon until 9 p.m. We hope to end with a bonfire and a singalong.
There will be music! music! music! Hopefully, this day will
soothe many a savage breast - and folks will leave with serenity filled
souls. Music does indeed have magical and miraculous charms
to add to anyone's daily life. And some of us wholeheartedly believe
that we need music in order to survive. Spiritually speaking, music
is simply good for the soul!