All my life I have loved to sing. Family gatherings always included singing, with my brother Dickie playing the guitar. On long car trips, in between territorial squabbles, Luli and I harmonized in the back seat. I was in the chorus in high school, and the Jacksonville Concert Chorale when I was a young lawyer.
I sing in the shower. I sing while I’m cooking, cleaning, gardening or driving. But constant song annoys those of us who like to be lost in thought; Joe sometimes and Amanda always asks me to shut up. I comply, though losing my singer makes me sad, and I sometimes resent being silenced, so I decided to take singing lessons and join a chorus.
singing in the kitchen image:ubergizmo.com
In February I went to the United Church of Gainesville’s women’s retreat. This is one of my favorite annual events. I like the women I’ve met at the church, and there are interesting workshops, religious, spiritual, artistic, or goofy. The setting is lovely, overlooking a marshy lake. And the best part is I have two days and a night on my own, with a room all to myself.
image:madisonfl.org
At this year’s retreat I met Rebecca Pethes, a young woman whose rippling curls and liquid voice are bright and warm as a new penny, and who teaches voice at Gainesville Guitar Academy. We instantly hit it off.
Then I attended a workshop, “Sound bodies, the first musical instruments,” where we made as many sounds as we could with our voices and bodies – rattling our tongues, popping our cheeks, howling, stomping, clapping, slapping and finally singing. After the workshop Jan Tucci invited me to join Voices Rising Community Chorus, an intergenerational group of singers who perform a wide range of music in two concerts a year.
Director Ruth Lewis and the chorus. image: Senior Times click
Now every Monday I have a singing lesson. I told Rebecca I wanted to lengthen my breath, strengthen my high voice, and learn to sing softly. We started with one of my favorite songs, John Prine’s Angel from Montgomery, and I began to practice stretching out my vowels and making my consonants quick and crisp. When we had wrung most of the learning out of that, she gave me Caro Mio Ben, an 18th Century Italian song with a simple romantic melody and melodramatic lyrics, full of cruel lovers, languishing hearts and endless sighs. I love it. We’ve been working on it about four weeks, and I am learning to let the air just fall into my lungs even when I want to gasp for breath, to let it flow out again over my vocal cords without straining. I’m finding a balance between my chest voice and my nasal voice.
image: 18thcenturycommon.org
Sunday nights I sing with Voices Rising under the direction of Ruth Lewis, an enthusiastic and exciting conductor. I have always loved classical choral music. In boarding school we trooped up the hill to sing Vivaldi’s Gloria with the neighboring boys school, including the trumpet-filled chamber orchestra, and I was hooked. In Jacksonville we sang Mozart’s Requiem, with the thundering Dies Irae. Now I play it on my stereo at full volume. We sang a concert version of Verdi’s Aida, with four excellent soloists but alas, no elephants. I still thrill at the name of Aida’s lover Radames.
Radames and Aida. image: arovingpittsburgher.blogspot.com
The repertoire for our upcoming concert includes only one classical piece, Sicut Cervus by Palestrina. The other pieces cover a wide range – folk songs, popular songs, and a show tune. At first I pooh-poohed eighty voices singing these simple melodies, but I’ve come to enjoy them. And we also get to sing a complex arrangement of the gospel Walk in Jerusalem, a deliciously woeful contemporary piece, Lamentations of Jeremiah, and the thrilling Pan-African national anthem, Nkosi Sikelela.
Michelangelo’s Jeremiah. image:commons.wikimedia.org
image: tvtropes.org
Amanda is galloping furiously into adolescence, with me and Joe barely holding on.When I practice my singing, when I’m thinking about my throat and breath and lips and tongue, about the pitch and rhythm of the notes, I forget everything else. When I’m singing with the chorus, surrounded by a great ocean of music, my life disappears. For an hour on Monday and two hours on Sunday night, and in my daily practice sessions, I take a vacation from my troubles. I believe in music. Singing brings me joy.
wow. rebecca’s voice is glorious…made me cry. i am soooo glad you’re doing this, my lizzy. and wish i had a place other than my house to sing. so, a tiny bit jealous, but mostly so very glad, and proud of you too, turning howls of grief, pain, rage into song.
love love.
luli
Liz, I am so thrilled that you have made time for your spirit and voice to soar. I am so thankful that I get to be part of your joy in singing. The power of the human voice is incredible! Believe it or not, I was told to shut up several times as a child when I was caught up in the most rapturous moments of singing ecstasy. It totally shattered me then. This is why one of my goals is to provide a safe place in my studio for people to sing with freedom. Thank you for sharing your journey.
Rebecca
This is lovely, Liz. My ability to sing disappeared about 30 years ago…don’t know why. Talking voice became quite deep. I’m fascinated that some people can continue to sing all their lives. So glad for you that you are able to enjoy music, and can put heart and voice into it!
As one of your classmates who shared the thrill of choral singing “up the hill”, I’m so happy to know that your still singing. Ever since that first night when the seniors walked through the 10th grade dorm singing the Goodnight round, I’ve known the power of singing to take me away from all my worries and fears. Our class will be the stars of next years reunion, you know. I’m already planning to be there. Hope you are too.
Totally inspiring Liz! Newly retired, I am more aware of the people, like you, who keep the parts of life that they love alive and well and march into new things without hesitation. I hope you are still willing to sing old folk songs with those of us whose range is 4-6 notes.