MUSIC AND ME

My Mother hates church music. She seems to think it goes back to when I was ten years old and first began to sing in the boys choir at our church. We learned the Requiem Mass for the dead and sang it almost every day at the eight o'clock Mass, unless it was a special saint's day. I had a little electric "Magnus" organ with about 15 keys, and when my Mom would be trying to take a nap I'd often come into her room, plug my little organ in, and serenade her with the Mass for the dead. I guess that really did her in...or at least her dislike for church music has  traumatic roots.

My grandparents had a tradition of singing every evening after dinner as soon as the dishes were done. My Mother would play the piano, and they'd all sing...all the old standards and of course the Irish tunes. My grandfather encouraged me to branch out from the Requiem and expand my repertoire...at least into some lighter Sacred music. When I got my first chance at the big Wurlitzer for a Sunday Mass, he was delighted, although he was very sick at the time and didn't live long enough to come to the church to hear me at the keyboard. He and my grandmother used to harmonize to songs like "Kentucky Babe".

Parties at our house always involve music. My Mother still wows the crowd with her great style and everyone sings along. I have friends who play very well, my nephew plays, and even people who really have awful voices spend a good part of their time here around the grand piano. I've been singing in church choirs most of my life, and can't imagine my life without music.

Our cottage is relatively near the Chatauqua Institution in New York, and they usually have several big musical performances during the summer. We take turns picking a concert every year, and my choice a few years ago was the "Verdi Requiem"....which is not for the faint-hearted. When my other half got to choose the following year we ended up with Wayne Newton. He was awful. About halfway through the evening a well dressed older man behind us said.....much too loudly..."He stinks". Different strokes for different folks.

Once in awhile I'll ask my Mother to listen to a piece of music that I really love. The first thing she always says is " I hope it's not church music." I guess that Mass for the dead really permanently did her in.