Birds

  My mother and I used to love feeding the birds and squirrels in our backyard.  It would usually be in the afternoon, when I would get home from school.  We had a variety of birds that would come by:  robins, bluejays, blackbirds, sparrows, doves, and cardinals.  My mother was partial to the cardinals.  Red was her favorite color.

 Many of the birds had jobs relating to our yard.  A robin would be in the front yard to watch for our newspaper delivery every morning.  When the paperboy would throw it in our yard, the robin would go over to it and sit next to it, while he waited for us to get it.  I wondered if the robin could read, because he sure looked at it intently.  The bluejays would sit near our backdoor and wait for us to throw the bread.  They would then call all of the other birds to the food.  The squirrel would sit on our basketball goal and watch out for predators. If he saw something, he would alert the birds to fly up into the trees.  He would also wait until the birds were through before he ate.  

 We also had a water bowl for the birds and squirrels.  One odd thing had to do with the blackbirds.  Each one would get a piece of bread and form a line to the bowl.  They would then dunk the bread into the water before eating it.  None of the other birds did that.  

 When Winter came, most of the birds would fly south for the warmer climate.  The squirrels and a few birds would stay in the yard.  As Spring arrived, our yard was the only one in the neighborhood for the birds to come back.  It was as though there was a sign on the roof of our house saying, "Eat Here!".  The parents probably told their children about our house.  Our yard was inundated once again.  

 One bird fell in love with itself in the outside mirror of my mother's car.  It would sit on the door looking at itself for hours.  Occasionally, the bird would peck at the mirror to say hello to the "other bird".  When my mother would leave, the bird would fly away but then come back to the car, when she got back.  He wasn't the brightest bird in the group, but he meant well.  

Handbells

  I started my handbell "career" at First Baptist Church, when I was in junior high.  They had a Junior Handbell Choir.  I wanted to be in it, because I loved music and could show off that I wasn't a failure in life, as I had been told in school by my classmates and teachers.  

 The director asked me if I knew how to read music.  I didn't, so he gave me the highest sounding bells in the choir.  They didn't appear much in the songs, but I was ready to play them.  The director showed me the lines on the clef where my notes were to be played, and there were usually four beats to a measure, so I could keep up with the other ringers.

 The problem with handbells is that if you miss ringing a note, everybody knows you missed it.  I had a problem with that, because some music was faster than others, and I couldn't count that fast.  The director decided that it might be better for me to play the lowest bells.  They were played less than the highest bells.  He was very patient with me.  At least, he portrayed patience.  I imagine that he screamed a lot away from us.  I could barely lift the low bells, which I think was his plan.  I might have played them once or twice during the song. My biceps hurt from the heavy lifting.  

 One thing to know about playing handbells is that it helps if you can play the piano.  I never learned to play the piano, but years later in seminary, I took a hymn conducting course, and I learned where middle C was.  Now, if you give me a sheet of music and about 30 minutes, I might be able to pick out the notes with one finger, and I can now sort of read music.  Something to put on my resume.

Carolighting

  In 1966, the state of South Carolina wanted to celebrate Christmas by the lighting of the state's Christmas tree on the grounds of the State House in Columbia in December.  They invited choirs from all over the state to participate one Sunday night in Columbia for an event called Carolighting.  The choirs were all supposed to sing the Hallelujah Chorus by Handel at the end of the program.

 I was in the Junior Choir at First Baptist.  Our director wanted us to have as many singers as possible, so we joined the Adult Choir for the presentation.  I had never seen the kind of music we were going to sing.  It came in a book.  There were a lot of notes on each page, and the words were scattered throughout every page.  Sopranos would sing one section and Altos the next.  The Tenors and Basses had their sections, too.  I was a tenor, since my voice hadn't changed.  You had to keep your eyes moving the whole time, because the parts jumped around a lot. 

 When it came time for the Carolighting, it was outside.  We stood on the steps of the State House along with other choirs.  It was very cold.  Almost every choir wore their robes from their churches.  Thanks to all of the choirs squeezed onto the steps, our body warmth kept us from freezing to death.  The program lasted an hour, and we had to stand the entire time.  I couldn't feel my feet.  

 After the finale, we got to our cars and headed back to church to get warm.  It was only a few blocks, but it seemed like an eternity.  I got warm enough to head back home with my parents.  

 The Carolighting has continued each year, and the choir participation has gotten smaller.  They can barely cover a fourth of the steps, where we had a massive crowd on the steps.  I did the first five years of the Carolighting.  First as a choir member and then doing handbells with Kilbourne Park Baptist Church.  Thankfully, we didn't have to learn the Hallelujah Chorus on handbells.