Choir: A Fateful Decision...

In my freshman year of high school, I needed an elective for the second semester and had no idea what to take. My good friend Lauren suggested choir – she was in choir and loved it. I’m pretty sure I responded with something like, “But I don’t know how to sing!” She assured me they would teach me. I wondered aloud, “Isn’t standing in front of people and singing scary?” She countered that it was pretty fun.  I’m not sure how or why (fate?), but she somehow convinced me, and in January of that year, there I was – an alto in a large choir. (I had no idea what “alto” even meant, but I was happy to be able to sit next to my friend. Plus, she could read music, and I could not. I could listen to her. It all worked out!)

Little did I know what a pivotal role this decision would play in my life. I ended up singing in a variety of choirs for the next 8 years, throughout high school and college. I’m even in a local community choir today, the Valley Women’s Ensemble.  Something about the camaraderie of the group, the shared goals, the excitement of performing, and the sounds of voices blending…it’s magic! (I will admit…a big part of the fun is also trading sarcastic jokes, making fun of the music and each other, and zinger one-liners!)

Of all the choirs I’ve ever been in, though, certainly the most influential and significant was the Encina High School Madrigals. There were 12 of us, 11 of whom are still in touch on an almost daily basis, through the magic of texting and social media. There would be a full 12, but we lost one of our members, tragically, to a genetic health condition when he was in his early 30s.

I knew I needed to write about the Madrigals, and that story ultimately became the 24th chapter of my book, Wreckage. The opening line for this story came easily and goes like this: "We hadn’t performed together in over 35 years, yet here we were, about to go onstage in front of nearly 100 people. The 1979 Encina High School Madrigal choir would sing again.” It tells the story of how the 11 of us, after over 35 years apart, managed to pull off a live concert for a real crowd and – most significantly – for our aging choir director, Mr. Jack Carey.

In writing about the Madrigals, and choir in general, I came to see what a lifeline that group of people had been to me as I navigated a chaotic, turbulent home life. It was only natural that the essay be called “How Choir Saved Me” because – in many ways – it did! I told the story in short form for the Hoffman Center for the Arts in a piece called “Encore.” The longer story explains more about how those 11 friends and Mr. Carey offered respite and consistency when I needed it most. It’s especially poignant against the backdrop of the other essays in Wreckage -  I could really see and appreciate the grace I’d been given, finding choir when I did. Want to read more? Sign up for more info and be alerted when it's published!