The Choir Conductor’s Diary
How nice. She has phoned me as though to apologize for her cold telephone reception before. She still is a church choir conductor. She said that recently she couldn’t exercise her choir as her legs hurt. She lectures music in a faculty. I told her how I still succeeded to improve the voices of my members though they are more than 60 and some more than 70 years old. That was owing to my asthma I said. I thought it would be good to exercise my breathing to overcome this. So on Sundays, in order not to annoy, disturb my neighbors, I went to the Jakarta toll road in Meruya, took a path beside the toll road and vocalized my exercise as loud as I can and competed with the traffic noise. My breathing improved and my voice improved too. It became more powerful, full and could reach higher tones. Then I thought, why not exercise my members in the same way. And now they have better voices never expected, unbelievable before of aged people. So an illness may be a blessing in disguise as it has improved my health, voice and also profited my members and the church congregation as well, with better singing. So your hurting legs certainly can be cured and might be a blessing in disguise too, I encouraged her.
“I thought whether I may come to your choir session, take my mini tape recorder and learn, see how you exercise them. I’ll write it in my paper,” she said.
“Sure. You’re welcome.” I said.
And I remembered her – a lovely young still unmarried woman - some 40 years ago talking, sharing our thoughts, deeper feelings about music, the choir festival, in which we participated. I’ve never seen her since then.
And as I think of her courage to phone me despite my being a married man of over 70 and she a married woman with a teen age daughter in a still prudish church society, am I a lucky man.
But she didn’t come to my concert, nor visited my choir session. Otherwise, she might be frightened, scared to see me, ha, ha. I’m grateful just to talk with her. I don’t care whether I don’t see her, or whether she lives abroad, or is married. Our age difference, walls couldn’t hinder, prevent my loving her.
I could talk endlessly, she’s like a guitar having a very sensitive, responsive sound board, as though a grand piano. You can’t play badly. You must, have to, to play well despite your poor ability to play because it sounds so delightful, so full, not out of tune. How I wish to accompany, “teach” and hear her sing. And as I sing “Der Nussbaum” of Schumann, even without lyrics, I felt as young as ever again, as never before.
2001
How nice. She has phoned me as though to apologize for her cold telephone reception before. She still is a church choir conductor. She said that recently she couldn’t exercise her choir as her legs hurt. She lectures music in a faculty. I told her how I still succeeded to improve the voices of my members though they are more than 60 and some more than 70 years old. That was owing to my asthma I said. I thought it would be good to exercise my breathing to overcome this. So on Sundays, in order not to annoy, disturb my neighbors, I went to the Jakarta toll road in Meruya, took a path beside the toll road and vocalized my exercise as loud as I can and competed with the traffic noise. My breathing improved and my voice improved too. It became more powerful, full and could reach higher tones. Then I thought, why not exercise my members in the same way. And now they have better voices never expected, unbelievable before of aged people. So an illness may be a blessing in disguise as it has improved my health, voice and also profited my members and the church congregation as well, with better singing. So your hurting legs certainly can be cured and might be a blessing in disguise too, I encouraged her.
“I thought whether I may come to your choir session, take my mini tape recorder and learn, see how you exercise them. I’ll write it in my paper,” she said.
“Sure. You’re welcome.” I said.
And I remembered her – a lovely young still unmarried woman - some 40 years ago talking, sharing our thoughts, deeper feelings about music, the choir festival, in which we participated. I’ve never seen her since then.
And as I think of her courage to phone me despite my being a married man of over 70 and she a married woman with a teen age daughter in a still prudish church society, am I a lucky man.
But she didn’t come to my concert, nor visited my choir session. Otherwise, she might be frightened, scared to see me, ha, ha. I’m grateful just to talk with her. I don’t care whether I don’t see her, or whether she lives abroad, or is married. Our age difference, walls couldn’t hinder, prevent my loving her.
I could talk endlessly, she’s like a guitar having a very sensitive, responsive sound board, as though a grand piano. You can’t play badly. You must, have to, to play well despite your poor ability to play because it sounds so delightful, so full, not out of tune. How I wish to accompany, “teach” and hear her sing. And as I sing “Der Nussbaum” of Schumann, even without lyrics, I felt as young as ever again, as never before.
2001
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