Flashback Week: Part 8 - The End
Reminiscences on our time with a local church teen choir…getting them written down so I don’t forget.
I’ve sort of been dreading writing this chapter because it was a really emotional time for us. And it brings back some painful memories. But, that which does not kill us makes us stronger right?
The choir was chugging along - even though most of what we might call the “core” of the choir had graduated high school and gone off to college here, there and everywhere. But they came back and joined us when they were in town, and new kids joined and kept the choir going.
Then one day it all came crashing down around us. In a way that still makes me angry - not so much for us, but for the way the kids were treated. Mike was called to the church for a meeting with the pastor (and I use that term loosely because I still don’t think he was very pastoral during this situation). At this meeting, he was given the letter that the pastor had mailed out to the choir members that day. And it basically said that he thanked Mike and Karin for their years of service, but that he had hired a music director for the parish. In other words, we were fired. Oh wait. We weren’t actually fired. We could stay and “work with him” if we were inclined to do so. Um yeah. Stay and work with someone else in charge of our baby that we had so carefully nurtured and loved and raised? Not going to happen.
But don’t focus on that. Focus on what I said a few sentences back. Mike was given a letter to read that had been mailed to the choir members that day. So, the “pastor” had sent a letter to teenagers to tell them that their choir directors (whom I believe they loved) were not going to be their choir directors anymore. A letter. An effing letter. (Bitter still? Not really - only when I think about it.) It’s bad enough to treat adults that way. But kids? If I’d been in that meeting, I’d probably still be in jail. Ugh.
Anyway, Mike came home and had to tell me the news. I honestly don’t know what he went through on the drive home, but I can’t imagine it was very pleasant, because we were both devastated. But there was NO. WAY. we were going to let the kids find out that way if we could help it. So, we called each and every one of them so we could tell them the news personally. We didn’t get to talk to all of them before they read the letter, but we sure tried our best.
I think the thing that sticks out in my mind more than anything that night was me sitting at our piano just banging and banging on it - not playing - just banging - a cacophony of sound - the sound of my anger - and sobbing and sobbing as though my heart was breaking - because it was. And I remember Bob (the dog) coming up to me amidst all that crying and piano banging and nuzzling up to me trying to make me feel better. And that still makes me cry to this day, thinking about that sweet dog trying to comfort me.
So, there it was. The end of an era. We still had a few weeks, and the final mass to do. I know there were a lot of people there. I know the pastor didn’t dare show his face. Actually, I tend to think that the associate pastor, Fr. L, asked to do that mass (we still exchange Christmas cards with him even after all these years - such a wonderful lovely man and truly pastoral). I don’t remember who all was singing with us to be honest. But I do remember singing The Lord’s Prayer that Mike had written one last time at that church, at that mass, with our kids, and barely making it through without crying.
After we left, the new music director came in - and the choir that we so lovingly built died - for all intents and purposes. He was not really a choir director. He was a solo artist. I know that at least some of the kids sang with him for awhile, but they weren’t the main focus anymore - he was - and so it withered away.
We moved on and found a new church home - the place where we still are today. And life went on.
I learned a few things, though. One, no one is irreplaceable. Two, things do happen for a reason - I can’t imagine my life without the people that are in it now. And three - memories can never be taken away from you.
So, to Laura and B* and all the kids that made up that wonderful beautiful choir, thanks for sharing your lives with us for those few years. It helped shape who we are today. We will always love you guys. Always.
Comment by bright star (B*)
November 15, 2007 @ 6:39 am
We love you, too. I remember hearing about all of that… such an icky situation. :( That “pastor” had issues, though.
Comment by Marlene
November 15, 2007 @ 10:14 am
What a sad ending…
Comment by Laura
November 16, 2007 @ 8:40 am
Please know that even though it was only a few years of my life, you had an impact that can never be explained. You let me join when I was still in junior high, even though it was a teen choir. I wanted to join so badly and you let me. You welcomed me and made me feel like I belonged. Having that at such a crucial time in my life, made me feel safe and accepted. Choir was always there for me. Good times and bad. I knew that on Sunday, I would go to church and have a good time. Before practice prayer, the B* rap, the drum intros that woke the congregation up, Mike’s amazing Our Father, your wedding, the parties, the choir baby, sunrise mass on Easter, bringing in horns for Christmas… I could go on and on. I have so many amazing memories.
And one of those memories is of that phone call. I remember Mike struggling to talk and I remember I was crying and crying. It was like a family was being ripped apart with no warning. When the new director came, I tried to stay in choir, but after a couple masses, I quit. My life was never the same after. I know that sounds dramatic, but it is true. My church abandoned me. I did not feel wanted. After my confirmation, the feeling increased. I had no place at the church. I did not belong anymore. I am still struggling with my feelings toward organized religion. I still consider myself Catholic, but I no longer go to mass. I blame that church and that priest. If he only knew what that he was destroying a family. If he only cared.
Even though my faith was rattled by the end of our era, I hope you know how important you both were to me. You both hold a special place in my heart forever.