Come Sunday
morning of our University Chorale Winter 2016 Tour, I was feeling quite Southern. Along with three other girls,
I had the pleasure of staying with the pastor and his wife in a pleasant suburb
of Birmingham. We were blessed to stay in such a beautiful home, decorated
brilliantly by our lovely and hospitable host mother, a former interior
designer. More enjoyable than the home itself, though, was the warmth of the
company that received us. Upon our arrival the evening prior, we were invited
to enjoy snacks and conversation in a room with big windows and a view of the
trees right outside. There were lots of smiles and laughs shared, especially
regarding the first order of business: right after we “had a sit-down” in the
comfy armchairs, our host mother began the conversation with, “So. Tell me
about the boys.” The pastor and his wife were in familiar territory, having
three daughters of their own. “We know all
about this life,” they told us with a smile. After learning more about
their family, as well as Birmingham, Alabama, we said good night to one another,
looking forward to a hearty Southern breakfast at 7:30.
“You have to try grits,” our host parents
told us. “You don’t have to eat all of ‘em, you can just take a bit if y’all
want, but you have to try grits.
You’re in the South.” We could tell we were in the South, alright, by the
breakfast in front of us Sunday morning. We were grateful recipients of
wonderful cooking and helped ourselves to a cheesy egg and sausage casserole,
warm biscuits with jam and butter, and, of course, grits (combined with an
abundance of butter, cheese, and salt). I was especially appreciative of the
coffee our beautiful hostess offered us, as well. “I don’t even want to think,” she told me, accent and all,
“about a day without coffee.”
After finishing
our breakfast – and giving our hearty consent of grits, at which point we were
declared to have passed the test to be a Southerner – we packed our bags into
the car, waved goodbye to the home we had only spent a night in but were
nonetheless attached to, and headed to Vestavia Hills Baptist Church. We
enjoyed hearing from the pastor’s wife about how many opportunities there were
to give in Birmingham, and about all the outreach work the church engages in to better its community. She stressed that the church sought to welcome all,
regardless of socioeconomic status or life situation. We certainly felt welcome
that Sunday.
Though the service
was at 10, University Chorale met in a choir room behind the sanctuary an hour
beforehand to rehearse and debrief. (We would sing a few songs during the
service.) We discussed what we learned and appreciated during the clinic with
Dr. Bara at UGA, and walked through the service lineup with Dr. Terre Johnson,
the Director of Music at Vestavia Hills and a good friend of Dr. Galante.
When it was time,
we exited the choir room and sat underneath the cross in the choir seats at the
front of the sanctuary. The traditional service was very lovely. The sanctuary
was a bright and calm place, the room warm with color as the sun shone through
stained-glass windows. The service began with one of our Christmas pieces,
“There is Faint Music.” Later on, we sang “O Salutaris Hostia,” and closed the
service with “I Can Tell the World,” to the delight of the congregation. In
between we sang hymns with familiar tunes accompanied by the organ, and we
greatly enjoyed the gospel readings, read with strong Southern accents and
sincerity. The sermon (given by our host father!) was entitled “Care,” and,
regardless of our unique backgrounds, I think its message rang true in all of
us.
Following the
service, we were heartily thanked, and gave thank-you’s in return to the
generous congregation members. We said goodbye to the people who had adopted us
for the night, filed back into the bus, and, still in our “Sunday best,” headed
to Birmingham’s Galleria Mall.
As we had a few
hours before our next gig, Dr’s Ezhokina, Lyman, and Galante had lunch with Dr.
Johnson, while Chorale ate and explored in the spacious mall. A great variety
of activities took place (Though, what else would you expect, when 42 college
students on a big road trip stop at a giant mall?). While some of us engaged in
typical activities like gracing the coffee shops and doing a little shopping,
others got quite creative.
A few girls tried
on princess-esque gowns at a dress shop, several boys made it their goal to set
foot in every single store (quite a feat!), and the mall’s carousel and
escalators offered endless fun and shenanigans. (Being in Sunday heels since
7:30am did not offer endless fun and
shenanigans, might I add.)
After a few hours,
we met back at the bus to travel to the Cathedral of St. Paul for a performance
exchange with two local university choirs: the University of Montevallo, and
the University of Alabama-Birmingham. The University Chorale looked less than
uniform in our various attire: church clothes with quirky additions such as
Vans shoes and jackets for comfort (A look I’d like to call, Sunday Best, with a Twist!). Montevallo
and UAB, on the other hand, were in formal concert attire: black tuxes (some
even had coattails!) and dresses with pearls. And they certainly matched the
grandeur of the breathtaking cathedral. We felt a little underdressed. And a
bit confused. Was this an official performance?
“So, is this an exchange or a concert?” I asked Dr. Galante. “Yes!” he replied. Well, that was helpful.
Whatever it was,
people slowly starting drifting into the cathedral while each choir briefly
rehearsed. After all had a chance to do so, each singer pulled out a copy of
Alice Parker’s “Hark, I Hear the Harps Eternal.” Though many had not so much
as glanced at the music before, we would run the song a couple of times, and
then sing it at the end of the performance-concert-exchange-thingamabob-whatever-it-was.
The
objective was not a perfect end result; the objective was the collaboration of
three different choirs, most of us strangers to each other, seizing the
opportunity of being in the same place at the same time and having the same
desire: to have a musical conversation. To be unified, even for just a few
minutes, by a common goal: a song.
It was great to
have the chance to listen to fellow college choirs, and accomplished ones at
that. After enjoying the performances of Montevallo, under the direction of Dr.
Melinda Doyle, and UAB, directed by Dr. Brian Kittredge, we made our way to the
front of the glorious cathedral. Our set of four songs included “Richte Mich
Gott,” “O Salutaris Hostia,” “Let Beauty Be Our Memorial,” and, yet again, “I
Can Tell the World.” Our kind audience gave us a hearty applause, especially
after “Salutaris” – our soloists had done a fabulous job, and truly sounded
like angels in the cathedral.
Indeed, the
Cathedral of St. Paul was simply a blast to sing in. When we sang, it felt as
though the room came alive, like the walls and ceilings and majestic columns were
singing with us. Singing “Hark I Hear” was a special experience, with over 120
voices joining together to produce a warm, gold-colored sound. We sang and the
cathedral sang back to us.
After the performance, we said goodbye to our fellow singers, our faces lit up with smiles after having the chance to sing in a place with such great acoustics. Still in our less-than-comfortable Sunday best, we boarded our second home (the bus) and tried to muster some enthusiasm for the four-hour ride ahead. We were bound for Crawfordville, Florida, y’all!
After about an
hour of driving we stopped in Montgomery, Alabama to eat a quick dinner. Tired
and eager to change into pajamas, we were a bit grumpy about the three hours of
driving that remained. But spirits were lifted (at least, mine were!) when we
popped Star Wars: Episode VI into the bus DVD player and spent our evening with storm-troopers and ewoks.
Shortly before
1am, we pulled into the Best Western in Crawfordville, a town just
outside of Tallahassee, Florida. We had instructions to be ready to go at 9:00, Monday morning, to depart to Manatee Springs State Park in the morning. I don’t
know about the others, but as for me, I was eager to crawl into bed. I fell
asleep when my head hit the pillow.
More to come about
our (exciting? spontaneous? alarming? Just what is the correct word?) Monday adventures tomorrow!
No comments:
Post a Comment