With Feeling, Brother Cliff!

Yesterday I watched the girls sing in the annual Sacrament Meeting presentation by the Primary. Kate, standing so still, calmly singing, so appropriate, until a long note morphed into a yawn and cracked me up. Couldn't be helped.

Anna, same song, soft smile, dreamy look, head swaying ever so gently, filled with emotion. Definitely the most engaged singer in the group. But appropriate. Progress from last year's grooving Las Vegas crooner style.

Sigh.

...is this the little girl I carried?

When we lived in the Dallas 1st ward John sometimes participated in the ward choir. Apparently, he's a Kate. Minus the yawn. The intrepid director, Sister Strub, encouraged him to sing with greater feeling. During practice. In front of the whole choir. I don't think he kept up with it much longer. Granted, we moved and all. So that could be it.

I sing with great feeling -- in the car. Not so much at church. Mostly because I am an alto who doesn't really read music. So I sing melody by default and am uncomfortable with the high notes. There are a lot of those. But I don't mind. Except now in Relief Society I sit next to an alto who can read music and sings beautifully. And I am reminded of what I'm missing.

Do you know my family? I'm the least musical. But I was in junior high choir and one year of high school -- until they divided the wheat from the chaff. Most of my friends were wheat, destined for the higher choir and selct group. Like my older sister and younger brother. I took art.

I was in band in junior high... I think. I distinctly remember my sixth grade clarinet class with the crusty old band director who came to teach us from the junior high. And we had summer band before seventh grade. I guess I must have been in the band that year because I can visualize a girl I knew only that year playing clarinet. But I have no memory of seventh grade band. Karen says she doesn't either. Blocked out?

So this year Kate is in 6th grade and Beginner Band at the Middle School. I'm thrilled that she has band everyday and a private clarinet lesson once a week. She might actually learn to play it!

She thinks she's horrible, but clarinet memories are emerging from the dark recesses and I assure her she's doing fine. I've heard much worse. She has a note test this morning, so last night as she fretted I picked up her instrument and tried to help out.

Somehow, my body remembered what to do. I didn't hit the notes (pesky tuner) but I came close and with no squeaks. Kate was impressed in a frustrated sort of way. After quite a bit more trying, Kate was able to do the same.

Someday, probably soon, her clarinet prowesse will eclipse mine.

But last night I knew just enough to help. That felt good.

As I finish typing this the first notes of the day are floating down from Kate's room. No squeaks.

Already, progress.