In Vancouver's Christchurch Cathedral, organ
music crescendoed, multi-part vocals soaring in its wake. I was on my
feet with the rest of the appreciative audience, the mantra of my grade
school choir mistress coming to mind.
"You are singing to the Lord," Mrs. Sammy constantly reminded us. "Smile
and sound joyful."
Every Christmas, we stood in rows on a raised dais in the decorated
schoolyard, angelic and festive in white cotton dresses and red satin
capes that curved around our shoulders. Each small pair of hands
clutched a songbook, emblazoned with our school crest and the motto
"Knowledge is Light." I looked around at the other girls and wondered at
the apprehension behind their forced smiles and bright eyes.
"Eyes on me," Mrs. Sammy trilled, nudging bashful chins up with her
brisk fingers, brown eyes never missing a detail despite her thick
spectacles, silver-grey hair drawn into the tidiest bun I'd ever seen.
I was beaming. Not just because I felt pretty in the dress Grandma had
made me, with its lace embroidery copied from a bridal magazine, or
because of the trio of silk roses pinned among my black curls, but
because I loved to sing. Singing always made me smile and feel joyful,
whether I was singing to the Lord or to my dolls or to myself in the
shower.
Back in the present, listening to the Good Noise Gospel Choir, I smiled
at the memory of getting scolded for singing Whitney Houston's 'All The
Man That I Need' a little too 'joyfully' for my mother's liking.
"Proper young ladies do not sing such things," Mom lectured.
It tugged at the tip of my tongue to ask why but I nodded meekly.
Okay, my adult self reasoned now, so maybe a ten-year old singing about
a man filling her up and giving her love wasn't appropriate, but did my
mom really think I cared about the lyrics? Back then, I was just a kid
who loved to sing along with her transistor radio.
Now, the Good Noise choir leader was urging the audience to join in.
Most of the room elected to clap in time to the music instead. Thinking
of Mrs. Sammy, who would curve her arms in a dramatic charade of a smile
meant to coax our mouths into obedience, I sang to the Lord and to the
memory of little choir girls in red capes.
(c) Kristy Kassie, 2017
Flash backs provide insight into a character.