Tuesday night Mark and I met friends--Donna Masini, Alex Dimitrov, Angelo Nikolopoulos, and many others--for an evening of caroling on the West Village streets. Our friend Marie Howe started this tradition some years back, and when she asked us to come this year, we said yes: who wouldn't want to be a part of any Marie-organized event?
So we gathered on Barrow Street. Standing in the crowd, I thought, but singing is work--it's hard to sing for long stretches of time if you're not in shape for it. Or what if it feels self-conscious? Or what if we make the people who walk by self-conscious? This was New York: didn't we have to be good, at least some sort of good? (And peeing. What if any of us had to pee?) The plan was to sing in several locations, over time. The night was cold, cold, and it wasn't going to be easy to break from the group.
We sang. We moved over to Grove and Bedford. We sang some more. Hark the Herald Angels Sing. Oh Holy Night. The First Noel. At some point, Alex said, you're so serious, you haven't even taken your eyes from your sheet. I hadn't realized I hadn't taken my eyes from my sheet. Only that when we stopped, I wanted to go on and on, despite the cold in my feet. The wonder of tuning your voice to other voices, matching those others in pitch and timbre. You're experiencing your own body just as you're leaving it behind. (The breathing, sound humming in your mouth, tongue, and teeth.) A little like sex. Or running, for that matter, though we were standing shoulder to shoulder. Still, but for the shifting of feet. And the 2010-year-old baby was us.
11 comments:
Happy Holidays, Paul.
Oh, yes! Thank you.
Happy Holidays to you, too, Collin. Have a great one.
And thanks to you, too, Nauplion!
What a lively community thing to do, Paul - caroling in the snow. Christmas is very different here in NZ. Today I will be taking a long walk along a favourite beach, Aramoana - a Maori word meaning 'Gateway to the sea'. There's a wetland area out there populated by godwits, spoonbills, black swans and lazy sea lions. I can see us breaking into 'We Three Kings' or 'The Holly & the Ivy' for them. Well, why not?
HAPPY CHRISTMAS to you & Mark. Thanks for sharing your stories & life with the rest of us.
Ah, Claire--thank you for that beautiful image. Yes, singing for the creatures: perfect. It's amazing to think it's already Christmas where you are--we just put a log on the fire, and I'm already stuffing my face with the chocolates that arrived on the doorstep not long ago.
I hope it's a wonderful day for you. Lazy sea lions: enjoy them.
i was recently at a recent memorial service. though i couldn't quite pull it together to sing the hymns, i was really taken by listening to the voices around me, predominantly from people i know quite well. i know the spoken voices of these colleagues and friends, but the singing voices.... i felt like i was being let in on a terrific secret.
happy holidays, paul.
and thanks for following my blog.
Growing up in a large family with two Welsh parents here in Montreal, one of whom was Church organist and choir director, music was always a gigantic part of our lives and of our Christmas.
What you said about the breathing- after some Zen training, finding myself singing again I remember thinking this is just like sitting practice with endless audible resonances.
I've always appreciated the groundedness of signing, or even of playing. And all the rest, they're a rich store of memories now.
Wishing you and Mark a truly blessed, silly and wise, joyous and peaceful holiday time- both in the city and out at that charming home in Springs
David@Montreal
Nancy, that notion of the two voices, spoken and sung, and their separate identities--so true. And beautifully captured: "...being let in on a terrific secret." (You should write about that!)
Happy holidays to you, too.
Thank you, David. I know exactly what you mean about that groundedness in time, in the skin. With others. Part of the thrill to was meeting up w/a lost self, all those years spent singing in choirs-- or accompanying them. It's good to know those facts about your parents. Hope you have a great Christmas and a peaceful week ahead.
The only thing I miss about church is the singing.
We watched "The Wizard of Oz" at the end of my most recent trauma training weekend (billed as the best movie about healing trauma of all time...think about it!) and the group spontaneously broke into a sing-along "Over the Rainbow". So sweet.
Abby had us in stitches last night explaining how her choir is taught to sing "Jesus"...something like "Jaysauce" or as she said, "Jesus Sauce". Sound familiar?
Hope you had a lovely day. The girls gave me a calendar featuring one of my photos for each month, including a picture of Milo playing with the friend he made the day of our walk in Albany. I love it, of course.
Yes, I can't imagine church without the singing. It's like eating a sandwich without anything inside it.
Jay-Sauce. This would probably only be relevant to Catholics, or those who grew up Catholic, but for years I thought the line from the Hail Mary was: "Blessed are you among swimmin." (instead of: amongst women) I suspect Swimmin referred to a school of fish. So I still envision an underwater Mary among fish whenever I hear that line.
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