The Tabernacle Choir

Or ... I Can't Sing,  Are You Listening?
 By C.L. Beck

Our Community Choir Christmas Concert takes place soon. Did I mention I'm in the choir? (Yeah, I know. That's an amazing announcement from someone who can't sing.)

I never felt nervous in high school choir performances. And this time, I'm not nervous either. Petrified is a better word.

Most of the people in the choir have musical training. Our director has a graduate degree. No, not like Dustin Hoffman in "The Graduate." More like a graduate degree in music from a major university.  Plus, he toured with an internationally famous singing group.

Still, I don't let it get to me. After all, just because some people have performed in the Tabernacle Choir, that doesn't mean anything, right?

And then there's me. Hardly no musical training. Average voice. I sit there muttering, "Every good boy does fine" to figure out the notes and by the time I figure out the first two, the choir director's on to the next page.

He keeps saying consoling words to us. It could be my natural paranoia, but it seems like he's directing them at me ... "I hear some mistakes (looks pointedly at me), but it's okay. There are a few people missing now, who will be here for the performance, and it'll make a big difference when they come."

I'm thinking he's found some way to get Pavarotti and Caruso into the choir.

But ...  since they're both dead, maybe we don't really want them showing up? At least, I don't.

And then there's my propensity to end a song too soon. Or to come in when the men are supposed to sing and the women are supposed to be quiet.

But worst of all, there are the times when the director indicates we should all stand and my skirt gets caught on the folding seat. I try to stand up, and fall forward instead. There I lean, hanging on by my skirt, narrowly avoiding a face plant, my nose a mere two inches from the floor.

If you believe in the power of pray, please pray that on the night of the performance my voice won't crack and my skirt won't catch. If you don't believe in the power of prayer, pray I'll catch the stomach flu and have to stay home.

Still, I'm an optimist. Looking on the bright side -- if all my fears come true, there is one consolation. It'll give me fodder for next month's newspaper column.

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(Author's note: If you enjoyed this mostly true story -- with a little bit of exaggeration thrown in -- then sign up for my newsletter in the sidebar on the right. That way you won't miss out on the fun.

The Tabernacle Choir © C.L. (Cindy Lynn) Beck,   Image © spider ara
Tags: Tabernacle Choir,  music, community choir