My Max
Here he – he is almost 70 - sings, without loudspeakers.
Skip this, except you’re also an amateur singer:
You did it, so I praised him. I didn’t tell him he was even
better than others I know of, as that would make him haughty. You should surpass, defeat
yourself, not others so I said to my members.
He is so poor, lives alone very far away. It takes him more
than one hour and a half walking and travelling by bus, the cheapest means to
get to the church in Jakarta to exercise regularly. Half past ten or
eleven o’ clock night time he’s back
home. Max is ‘orang Ambon’. Ambon people do love singing and have a beautiful
voice.
He was just unlucky. He might be prevented of a stroke if
he could afford to have a medical check up. Yet, imagine, he still managed to
come after this till his second stroke.
Recently he passed away. I’ve now lost three of my best,
strongest singers out of ten, two are over 80 by now. But I wont break up,
leave, abandon my choir as there wont be anyone would ever like to have, take
care of, love them, as they ‘re musically uneducated old agers, - worthless,
trash, no future, smart people would say without saying anything - except the
church would fire me. I’m happy, they, we, have got our dignity again.
When there’s only one left, we would sing together, even
were there no one left, then will I still sing alone. Ha. Ha.
So assured my Choir Conductor me.
July 2013
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