ThingsPondered

The first item in this list is primo.  After that, I consider the events equally thrilling, so their order does not imply ranking.

1.        Singing a duet with my son Benjamin for a nursing home gig at Christmastime.   He was in junior high, but was already a baritone.  (Ben wryly attributed this precocious vocal development to all the steroids he has endured for asthma.)  It was joyful to me how well our voices blended, and….duh…I guess they should have coming from the same genetic heritage.

2.       Singing a duet of Amen (from 1963 film Lilies of the Field) with Clark Lash at meeting.

3.       Singing The Verdi Requiem (alto chorus member) with orchestra, guest soloists.  The Dies Irae with timpani —- omg!  Icing on the cake was the small, private party afterwards with some good people from Reading Choral Society and bass soloist Brian Gibson.

4.       Teaching the Sunday school song “The Lord Said to Noah” with full motions, standing up, sitting down and so forth to kindergartners at St. Mary’s R.C. School.  I remember  many times singing “Rise and shine and give God the glory, glory” with my arms outstretched to the sky and thinking “I am getting PAID to do this!  Wow!”

5.       Playing one of my choral compositions (AATTBB) on the piano for a Harvard music major and his gasping with delight at one part.

6.       Singing the Queen of the Night “Der Hölle Rache kocht in meinem Herzen” aria (from Mozart’s The Magic Flute) in a voice lesson.  I always wanted to do it.

7.       Playing djembe with good, experienced fellow drummers.

8.       Singing in District and Regional choruses in high school.

9.       Teaching and directing the St. Mary parish children’s choir in my composition of the Our Father.  Also, hearing them singing it on the playground for fun because it is lively.                                  (Like God. Duh)

1                – Room for whatever the next biggie will be -

If you can immediately answer that question (as can I), then I know how old you are.  Or, at least I know your minimum age.  In fact, it was a great age-estimator question for me when I was dating “the second time around.”

Now for the rest of you, the particular Kennedy (because there certainly are a gaggle of them) is JFK, John Fitzgerald Kennedy.  He was the 35^th President of the United States, serving from 1961 to 1963.  Although I was a mere child with absolutely NO interest in the world beyond my immediate neighborhood, I was touched by his vitality and youth via osmosis from the mind-set  of the adult world.  Not only Americans, but much of the “free world” was enamored of him.   To say he was charismatic grossly under-describes his appeal.

Therefore, when he was gunned down in Dallas right before Thanksgiving, anyone who was age five or older had the tragedy’s events imprinted on his consciousness forever.  Everyone aware of it knows exactly where he or she was when she heard, exactly what part of the day she heard, and exactly how she learned it. 

For younger Americans, the day of the disintegration of the space shuttle Challenger in January 1986 may be equivalent.  For all who were aware, the attack of 9/11 2001 is the same.

(Some names have been changed.)

Most Roman Catholic grammar schools are connected with a church.  St. Munificentia R.C. School followed form.  The precious jewel of a church was a high-spired landmark in the Polish ghetto of a medium-sized Pennsylvania industrial town.  Even as recently as fifteen years ago, the tight-knit neighborhood had arrivals of newcomers from Poland and the eastern European countries.  The parish of St. Munificentia qualified, in the eyes of the diocese, as an ethnic parish.  This means that Polish-American Catholics living outside the geographic bounds of the neighborhood were permitted to belong.

The school of St. Munificentia served the parish plus that of St. Patchoulicus, whose parochial school had closed.  Therefore, the students were blessed with the care of priests from both churches.

St. Patchoulicus is an easy ten-block walk from St. M.  However, there truly was a world of difference.  Better said, it was a different part of the world which settled in that parish’s environs.  Our superb immigrants from Vietnam somehow selected this neighborhood in Pennsylvania’s land of opportunities.  We are very fortunate that they did, because their work ethic and desire to become contributors to the community were inspirational.

Students at St. Munificentia went to Mass every single Friday.  Spelling tests and Mass were a good way to end a week.  Because of the school affiliation with two parishes, the priest celebrating the pupils’ Mass could be from either church.  I particularly remember two. 

Father Ubiquitous could have won at James Cagney impersonations.  His heart and soul were in exactly the right place: he gave up a room in his rectory quarters to a child in his parish struck paralyzed and mute by a tragic accident.  If that is not living the faith, I don’t know what is.  However, Father U. is notable in my mind for another practice.  When he led the children’s Mass at St. Munificentia, he absolutely, always, always cut short his sermon – homily with the excuse that he was sure we all had things we needed to be doing and he did also.

Gruff Father Lione, on the other hand, gave great care to his homily for the Masses at which he knew the children would attend.  His homilies were a perfect amalgam of a message for children and a few “hidden” bits of humor for adults.  Nothing off-color (Heavens no!), just grown-up experiences.  They were similar to a good Muppets sketch, and since I was not Catholic, I felt free to laugh out loud.  However, his children’s parts were not cutesy; they were rather stern and required paying attention because he often asked a few questions.  Then, the brave among the children (this includes all first graders, universally) would raise a hand.  If he pointed to the child, that student would quakingly stand up and give an answer in the echoing cavernous gorgeous church.   Fortunately, Father Lione appreciated the bravery, so would not skewer or embarrass any child giving an incorrect answer.

These Masses were a golden moment.