Lasolimu wrote:That does sound amazing and you are well aware on my stance on the religious area. Being a musician, I would have fallen into the category of those who would be touched by the musical aspect. I am well aware of this as I went to WDW around Christmas a couple of years ago and, of course, the Candlelight Processional was a must. I might not have been touched by the story or the lyrics, but the beauty of the music is more than enough to get me going.
As always, we disagree on a lot, but I deeply appreciate the respect you show when discussions hit on these matters!
Okay, on to the final installment -- perhaps of this whole thread:
Gold Medal Moment #3:
The scene: Friday evening,
after the chorus competition and the announcement that we had missed the gold medal for the second year in a row. The men of the Vocal Majority and our families have gathered back in our rehearsal room. When we're all here, families stay in the chairs, and the VM heads to our place on the risers.
A lot of what happens next is expected -- encouraging talks from our leadership about disappointment in the results but not us, not our performance; how we did everything asked of us and more; how we set a
yet another high score. That before last year's performance in Anaheim, no chorus had ever been awarded a "100" by a judge at the International, and we had three on our uptune, and this year had two more, one of them on our ballad, another first. That we set out to touch people and win the audience, and we did that.
Once again, we accomplished every goal we had set for ourselves that was within our power. The one that we didn't reach, the color of our medal, was out of our hands.
And so, we stand on the risers as brothers, smarting from the loss, yet proud of each other and cheering our leadership, particularly our longtime director, Jim Clancy, who is retiring from competition after 35 years -- and who in 14 International competitions led the VM to 11 gold medals and 3 silvers. It is, like last year, a bittersweet time.
We also take the time to acknowledge our families, who have given us such love and support, and who have endured our long hours away from home. (One of our members has a t-shirt I've long admired. It reads simply, "
I can't. I have rehearsal." :) ) Jim speaks briefly to our family members, thanking them, and then turns to lead us in
You Raise Me Up in their honor. The words fit perfectly:
[INDENT]
When I am down, and oh my soul, so weary,
When troubles come, and my heart burdened be,
Then I am still, and wait here in the silence,
Until you come, and sit a while with me.[/INDENT]
Except... we don't even finish this first verse. Jim Clancy cuts us off, and I for one am a bit puzzled as to why. But Jim then turns away from us, back to the spectator seats, and says,
"Wives, come join us on the risers. Families too." Everyone stays seated for just a second to digest this -- for the years of my membership, I've sung
to my family many times but, with the exception of my older son Brandon who has come to a few VM rehearsals, never have they had the experience of being on the risers with me. And trust me, there is a world of difference.
We have 136 men performing here in Philly, and not every man has family with him, but those of us who do have enough that we are easily totaling over 200 on the risers. It's a tight squeeze, but absolutely wonderful in every way. My wife and boys climb up to the back row with me, she on my right, they on my left. Many other men around me have wives with them, some also have kids. It's not as comfortable packed in like this, but there is an overwhelming sense of
family that more than compensates.
And
then Jim steps back up to have us sing
You Raise Me Up. I somehow find it easy to sing; other men are choking up. I glance away from Jim's direction briefly and note that some family members are singing along; others have their eyes closed and are just soaking up the experience of being in the middle of the music. There are very few dry eyes.
Continued...
:)
