2020 - Christmas Music of the Day #4 - Christmas Canon in D, Trans-Siberian Orchestra

Christmas Music of the Day #4 

Christmas Canon in D, Trans-Siberian Orchestra

I can recall the very first time I heard Canon in D. Kerry and I were still dating, when my boss recommended we take a day to visit the National Air and Space Museum, and to be sure to view the film on their large I-Max screen that was about 4-5 stories high. And, be sure to get our tickets early.

Okay.

So, we drove down into the District, bought our tickets early and wandered around until it was our time to view the film "Flight". We even spent time in the planetarium, one of our favorite things to view no matter where we are.

We walked in, and it was so quiet. Almost reverent. This haunting, ethereal music was playing a song I had never heard before. But, every single person in that theater sat mesmerized.

I still get mesmerized whenever I hear it. And, this version by TSO is beautiful.

2020 - Christmas Music of the Day #3 - Mary, Did You Know?

 Christmas Music of the Day #3

Mary, Did You Know?

I love this song no matter who sings it. I have followed the author of it for years, and listen to his daily Facebook check-ins.

He has suffered with hyperactivity and ADD for most of his life, which ended up with him being the class clown. 

From Wikipedia, we read the following: "In 1984, Lowry wrote the lyrics to the song "Mary, Did You Know?", when asked to write a script for a church Christmas play. He wrote a series of questions that he would like to ask Mary, the mother of Jesus. These questions were used in between the scenes of the play. Over the next decade, Lowry tried to find music that would complete the song. Eventually, musician and songwriter Buddy Greene wrote the music to the song. The Christmas play script then became the song."

This particular version is done by Pentatonix.

#ChristmasMusicoftheDay

#LightTheWorld

2020 - Christmas Music #1

 Christmas Music #1

I have shifted from my gratitude posts that filled every day of November to the music that lifts my soul and my heart during the month of December - the month we celebrate the birth of the Christ.

My first song is one that has special meaning to me because of a special, spiritual, and sacred moment that occurred in a Congregational Church in Chatham Massachusetts. I don't recall having ever heard this particular hymn before, and it landed on my heart.

A few months ago Reverend Dave Mc Donald posted this version of it, and now I can't get enough of it.

And, I weep.

I weep because of that experience in Chatham, an experience far too sacred to share.

How Can I Keep From Singing? Really...how can I?

#MonthofMusic

2020 - Gratitude Day #15 - Musical Talent

 Gratitude Day #15

Today I am grateful for my God-given musical talent.

I feel like this is a post that is oft-repeated, for I tend to mention it often. But, I would be remiss if I didn't thank God for the talents and abilities He gave to me.

My talent became evident when I was about age four. My parents and I were living in a log cabin. Lots of family and church activities took place in that cabin. It burned down about a year or so ago. It had been my home until I was age 5.

Mom and Dad got me a tiny piano for Christmas when I was four years old. It has survived every move we ever made - even to Bethesda, Maryland. It survived in my own home with four young children. I imagine it would be an antique in today's world.

Today it sits in an enclosed attic room about three feet away from me, protected well.

My tiny piano that my parents bought me for Christmas in 1959.

When my dad was bishop of our local congregation, he became aware of a family that was selling their spinet piano. Apparently the wife's mother was sending them a grand piano, and they would no longer be needing the smaller one.

Dad arranged to buy it from them for $300 at $50 per month.

On the evening of my eighth birthday, I heard a pickup truck backing into our driveway. Dad owned his own business, so it wasn't unusual to have frequent deliveries of anything.

Then, to my utmost surprise, a piano came rolling it, making its home in our living room.

I truly thought I was the richest little girl in the entire world. As I look back, indeed I was! I had no idea that something this beautiful and this grand and so expensive would have my name on it.

I began playing it that evening. I had progressed to the point where nearly anything I heard I could play by ear. I still can.

And, this piano sits proudly in my living room to this day.

My four children took piano lessons. Kerry took piano lessons. And this marvelous instrument is the one everyone in the house practiced on. 

It was never off-limits to my children, unless they just chose to bang on it. But, I had told them the rules ahead of time; of the sacrifice of my parents, the preciousness of it in my own eyes. I actually don't remember any of them abusing it.

Some of my fondest memories was when we would gather the six of us around and sing for about half an hour or more before it was time for the kids to go to bed. I taught them to sing parts and to harmonize. We often had brother and sister duets, father and daughter duets, mother and son duets, a sextet - you name it! When family members sing together, there is a natural harmony that takes place.

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My spinet piano that arrived on my eighth birthday.

My piano lessons began at $1 per half hour. That continued for several years from a woman whose washer my dad had fixed. At some point she had to raise it to $1.25, and it became a bit more difficult to come up with that extra quarter. A few years after that, it went up to $1.50. I continued to take lessons, and we were digging through old purses and coat pockets and couch cushions to find those two quarters. I didn't take lessons too much longer after that.

Mom and dad sacrificed for me. And, because of their sacrifice I have been able to play many others instruments besides the piano. Once that keyboard is in your head, the other instruments seem to come easier.

For the better part of 55 years, I have played either the piano or the organ for church. I have played for weddings and funerals. I have played the Tabernacle organ in Salt Lake City. I was speaking in Virginia and attended the local congregation there. They had never heard their organ played, and when they found out I could do it they quickly searched for the key to unlock it. They were able to hear their organ played for the first time.

Plus, I was even one of the session musicians for recordings in Nashville.

Music has been my outlet for comfort, for anger, for peace, for pleasure, for praise. And, I am grateful to the Lord for allowing it to come easy to me. In turn, I have tried to bless others.

Gratitude Day #20 - 2018 - Musical Talent

Gratitude Day #20

Today I am grateful for the God-given musical talent I have.

I was just four years old living in a log cabin with my parents when Santa brought me my first piano.

We had no record player, or anything else that would make music. Mom and dad had noticed something of a musical ability I seemed to have. So, they made sure there was a beautiful little teeny piano on Christmas morning. It would be the only music we had during the Christmas holiday.

I still have this 59 year-old little instrument. It sits in a safe place upstairs to always remind me of that beautiful gift. I put little 8-lb. Eddie in the picture to show just how small this piano is.

I continued to play whatever I heard -- by ear. A few years later our chapel was built with three new pianos in it. My dad was bishop, so mom and I spent a lot of time waiting on him. During that time I would play and play and play -- by ear. There was an older woman who would hear me, and come and slam the lid down on my hands, saying those pianos were only for people who knew what they were doing.

Then...on or around my 8th birthday, we had some relatives visiting with us. I heard a truck backing up into our driveway. Dad went out to meet it, and I figured it was just someone from church who needed him.

Nope. In rolled this beautiful piano!!!!!! I just knew I was the luckiest girl in America!!!

There was a family in the church who was receiving a grand piano from her family in the west, so they were selling theirs. Dad arranged to buy it from them for $50/month for six months.

And, because he had his own refrigeration/air conditioning business, he had repaired the refrigerator of a local piano teacher. He arranged with her for me to take weekly lessons for $1/lesson.

I knew my life could never get any better than this. This piano still sits in my living room, and is in the second photo below. All of my children took piano lessons on this same instrument.

I had years and years of lessons. When the teacher had to raise the cost of lessons to $1.25, we had to scramble to find that extra quarter. It was difficult. A few years later, we were digging through couch cushions and coat pockets and old purses to come up with it. All in all, I had about 12 years of lessons.

I can't think of a physical object that has blessed my life more than this piano. It has been the base of my learning to play many more instruments. I now sit at the organ each week. It's not my favorite instrument, for I tend to think of roller skating rinks or baseball games. But, I'm grateful than I am able to play it.

I have played for weddings.

I have played for dozens and dozens of funerals - even during a funeral fight.

I have played when I was so full of joy that I didn't know how to express it any other way.

I have played when I was so frustrated and angry that my hands were better off on the keys.

I have rejoiced when my children learned to play. We attended many recitals and competitions to cheer them on. They would also go on to play other instruments. And no, I didn't teach them. I wanted them to answer to someone else, especially if they hadn't practiced.

Our family sang. In the evenings, we gathered around and sang in harmony, breaking into parts as their voices matured. Kerry taught the boys to follow the bass line. And, one of my tender memories is sending them off to bed after family prayer. I would continue to play, and we could hear their voices singing from the upstairs. I'm tearing up just remembering those times.

And, on the day of their brother's memorial, the younger siblings took charge of the music. They took my place at the piano, the organ, and directing -- filling in because their mother just couldn't do it.

As they went on in their own lives, Harmony acquired a beautiful keyboard that I am SO jealous of. Jordan was in the US Army band. And, Erik's former partner gifted him a gorgeous piano, which he proudly displayed with all of his certificates above it.

As for me...I am still playing the organ, and also the piano - the same one that sits in the chapel is the same one that has always been there. Sometimes I will scoot over and play it during church services because I miss my old friend.

So today, I am grateful for parents that saw vision in me. They saw talent that emerged, and eventually blessed a family of six and beyond. If my parents had been able to afford it, I believe each of my sisters could have had musical abilities uncovered, too.

Music has blessed my life beyond measure; and I hope that what I have done has blessed others. May I never forget the sacrifice of my parents, nor of my God who helped a young girl's talent emerge.

PS...perhaps this is why I have absolutely no fear of speaking before a room full of several hundred people. I've been in front in one way or another my whole life.

The Influence of Just One Man

Friend Clarence Baughman passed away while we were traveling through the west.  I found out on Facebook, and my mind began thinking about the 25+ years that I had been friends with Clarence.

I met Clarence first through the work Kerry and I did through the Boy Scouts of America.  He was a merit badge counselor, and had served in a number of positions throughout the years, just as we had.

I had an awkward encounter with him at the YMCA when our children were little.  We were all swimming, and I was standing in water up to my shoulders with my legs far apart.  I suddenly felt something "whoosh" through my legs.

It was Clarence!  He swam through my legs and popped up in front of me, exclaiming a loud, "Hi, Peggy!".  I nearly died!

 Clarence was a poor man.  He owned a bicycle, and thought nothing of traveling for miles and miles and miles on that bike.  It was only means of getting around.  At one point, there had been a complaint about it being unsightly in downtown Mansfield, so the police confiscated it.

At his memorial service, it stood proudly with bouquets of flowers decorating it.

A gentleman sitting at the piano warmed my musical heart with beautiful renditions of well-beloved hymns and songs on the piano at the Episcopal Church.  

 As a musician at my own church, I always save funeral programs.

 And, because I have amassed so many of these programs and bulletins, I have gone back through them all and made a note of how we knew the person, and our relationship to them.

Some day, when we are dead and gone, my family will probably be going through all of those programs, perhaps wondering how we're related to them; when actually there was no relationship at all...other than friendship.

Clarence's funeral was held in the beautiful Episcopalian Church in downtown Mansfield.  I had never been in there before, and was astounded at its beauty.

But, there was something that astounded me even more.

This small man, about the same height as me at 5'3", only riding a bicycle the majority of his life, sometimes homeless, had affected the lives of hundreds of people.

Leaders from several different churches and agencies downtown wondered how they were going to find enough people to replace all that Clarence did.

1. He was always there to unload food trucks that delivered food to those in need.  He would often stand out in the rain and cold to flag down the truck, who might be looking for the right place.
2. He helped to keep order as people lined the hallways waiting for the food.
3. He always made sure he was the last one to eat.
4. If someone came in late, and Clarence was standing there with the last plate, he would give it to that person.
5. He gathered up the trash after every public event.  It was something few people volunteered to do, and Clarence was there first, and stayed late.
6. He collected hundreds of pounds of cans to turn in for cash, which would then be donated to the Ronald McDonald house in Columbus.

Clarence made an impact in so many people's lives.  Yet, he "appeared" to be one small, scruffy man who always took a back seat.  

Because of his service to so many, I have no doubt he was welcomed into heaven and embraced with open arms into the One who loved him more than anyone.

God bless Clarence.  There aren't many like him...

Christmas beauties of the day - Music

Christmas beauties of the day.

Music.

Our home was always filled with music. And, there's no better time for it to permeate our home than at Christmastime.

From tiny ornaments to radio stations and CD's to the sound of children practicing for piano lessons and school concerts, the sounds of music has transported my heart and my mind to greater things.

Erik Lauritzen's piano

The Music That Soothed Her

Music has always been a big part of my life.  I have written about my love for the piano, and my parents' sacrifice to buy one for me.  The blog post may be found here:  http://alwaysanxiouslyengaged.blogspot.com/search/label/Music 

I don't believe my mother's side of the family had much talent for music.  Mom had no rhythm or timing when it came to singing, and not very good pitch, either.  But, that certainly didn't keep her from singing her heart out.  I didn't notice anyone else in her family being blessed with musical abilities, either.

Dad was a different matter.  His dream was to always conduct an orchestra.  An elaborate stereo sound system always graced our home, where dad would be playing his "long-hair" music.  

I can remember some girls knocking on our door one evening.  They went to my school, but I didn't know them very well.  When I opened the door, they heard my dad's music and screeched, stating that I was one of the luckiest people they could imagine.

I believe that my dad could have been fine musician, if the opportunity and the resources had been there for him.  But, they weren't.

I recently transcribed my dad's journal, and placed the contents on FamilySearch.  I was reminded of something that he often talked about, and I blogged about on 12 Mar 2013.

"Dad always talked about his little sister, Betty, who died when she was 3 1/2 years old.  

Betty was born when Dad was two years old.  She was the sixth child out of eleven that would come to that family.

One day, older sister Mary was rocking little Betty by a pot bellied stove that had a pot of beans cooking and bubbling away on the top of it.  As she rocked Betty, she would "push off" with her foot against the stove.  Each time she pushed, the pot of beans would move a little closer to the edge.

It eventually moved too close to the edge and fell right on to baby Betty and Mary.  It mostly covered Betty, scalding her severely.

It took Betty three, agonizing days to die from the burns.  What a terrible death!  And, the terrible feelings that Mary must have had running through her 11 year old mind.  The helplessness of her parents hearing her cries must have haunted them throughout their lives.

One of my sisters is named Betty in honor of this sweet little aunt that died so many years ago."

But, I didn't finish that story.  

Dad mentioned:

"...and of course the doctors was not trained to treat severe burns in those days and the most the doctor could do for her was to give her Morphine to ease the pain till she died, We lived on Clark hill at that time, a part of Olive Hill.

 I was in school at that time but I believe my mother told us that after Betty’s burn quit hurting so bad that she was rocking her in that same rocker and Betty started singing a song that we all sang in church and at home from time to time and the name of the song was,

            Heavens bells are ringing and I’m going home

            Heavens bells are ringing and I’m going home

            Heavens bells are ringing and I’m going home, away to beauliland.

That song has come to my mind many times during my lifetime and something tells me that she went right straight to the presence of God, it would be hard to make me believe anything different."

It took little Betty three whole days to die.  Three whole days.  There was nothing they could do but give her morphine to ease the pain.

I, too have lost a child.  He was much older, but still my child.  There wasn't much to comfort me.

But, as I read Dad's journal, I began to think about the words that my grandmother sang to her little girl, probably hoping that the sound of her voice and the words to the song would comfort them both.

I tried to find the song, and I believe it may have been the combination of two songs.  Here are the words:

"Climbing Zion's Hill"

Oh, the heaven bells are ringing and I'm a-going home
I'm a-going home, yes, I'm a-going home
Oh, the heaven bells are ringing and I'm a-going home
Climbing up Zion's hill

I'm climbing, I'm climbing
Climbing up Zion's hill
I'm climbing, I'm climbing
Climbing up Zion's hill

[Instrumental break]

If you don't, my mother, you'll be too late
You'll be too late, you'll be too late
If you don't, my mother, you'll be too late
Climbing up Zion's hill

I'm climbing, I'm climbing
Climbing up Zion's hill
I'm climbing, I'm climbing
Climbing up Zion's hill

[Instrumental break]

If you don't, my father, you'll be too late
You'll be too late, you'll be too late
If you don't, my father, you'll be too late
Climbing up Zion's hill

I'm climbing, I'm climbing
Climbing up Zion's hill
I'm climbing, I'm climbing
Climbing up Zion's hill

And, I was even able to find a recording of a mountain woman singing this song -- probably sounding much like my own grandmother would have sounded.  It's only a couple of minutes long, but if you feel so inclined, please listen to a piece of Appalachian history -- one that my grandmother may have sung to comfort her grieving heart.

http://digital.berea.edu/cdm/ref/collection/p16020coll13/id/500 

Peggy and Her Piano

Peggy and Her Piano

For as long as I can remember, I have played the piano.  Music was always part of my home. My dad played records that contained beautiful music all the time.  I believe my talent comes through my dad.  My poor mom had no rhythm and couldn't really sing very well at all.  But that didn't matter - she sang anyway.

Dad could always keep time very well.  His dream was to have been a conductor in a symphony - but that wasn't to be.  Perhaps if he'd had musical training, he would have enjoyed it even more. 

My sisters were/are all musical.  But, when they were growing up in the hills of Kentucky and the hollers of West Virginia, mom and dad just didn't have the money for any musical lessons for them.  None of them can  play any musical instrument at all.  But when the four of us sing, we blend perfectly in several harmonies.

My parents got me a little piano for Christmas when I was four years old.  That year, I was pounding out "Joy to the World".  My mom often said that was the only Christmas music we had that year.  Through the years, I learned how to play a few more songs on that little piano.  I still have it to this day.

I put Mr. Eddie in the picture with it so you could see the relative size of it.  Mr. Eddie weighs 8 lbs.  It's not much bigger than him.

I even played for the children's organization at church for several years right after I got that piano.  We had our Primary meetings on Saturday mornings, when it was hard to get some of the other adults out to the church.  For awhile, all I could really play was "The Golden Plates" - so that's what we sang for a long time. 

My dad was a refrigeration/air conditioning repairman, a skill he learned in the Navy and continued on with more training here.  One day, he was repairing an appliance for a woman who taught piano lessons in her basement.  He listened for awhile, and asked if she took on new students.  She said she did.

About that same time, a lady in our ward was selling her piano.  She was getting a new one from her mother, who lived in California.  They lived in Danville, a town a few miles away from here. 

On the night of my birthday in 1963, I heard a vehicle pull into our driveway.  I didn't think too much about it, for I thought it was probably one of my sisters dropping by.  Or, since dad was bishop, that it might be someone who needed to talk to him.  He did stand at the door and talk to someone for a few minutes.

Then, some furniture was moved, and in rolled my birthday present!  My best birthday present I've ever received!  My "new" piano!!!!  At 8 years old, I thought I was the richest girl on the planet. 

I played and played and played.  And in the fall, I began my lessons.  That was a different experience, for I had played by ear for many years.  Now, I was going to have to learn to discipline myself to play the notes written on the paper.  It was harder than you can imagine.

My piano lessons began at $1 per week.  Mom and dad always found that dollar for me.  However, after a few years, my teacher had to raise it to $1.25.  That was a different story.  We didn't know if I could continue or not.  But, dad was determined to provide lessons for me.  There were a few weeks (probably more than a few) where I paid in coins, after digging through couch cushions, coat pockets, etc.  But, we always found it.  And, we always found it again when the cost went to $1.50. 

I tried to make sure I kept up with my practicing, for I knew how hard it was on mom and dad to pay for those lessons.

That piano "base" led me on to play many more instruments.  When I was in marching band, I found it easy to pick up an instrument and begin to play.  String instruments were a bit harder for me, but eventually I could play many of them, too.  In my mind, I would picture the piano keyboard, then the notes would be clearer to me on another instrument. 

How can I ever show my gratitude for mom and dad's sacrifice?  By keeping up what they took the time, money and effort to see that I had in my young life.  That sacrifice has led me to play for countless weddings, funerals, Christmas gatherings, family gatherings, and years and years of Church meetings. 

It also paved the way for each of my own children to enjoy music.  While they were at home, they filled our home with music - good music.  They had their lessons on my old piano, and the sacrifice was hard for us, too.  But, how I loved hearing them play and work out the melody on a song they had never seen before.  How I loved seeing them go on to play other instruments.  And how I LOVED when we gathered around the piano and sang as a family.  Our six voices blended and harmonized, just like with me and my sisters.

My piano is still in my home and is still being used.  It's a little rougher for the wear.  It has some battle scars.  It's a bit out of tune.  But oh, how I love that piano - for the joy I had in playing and accomplishing a difficult piece - and for the comfort it brought me in times of sadness.