THE Christmas Concert

I watched this year's version of Christmas with the Mormon Tabernacle Choir and thought of my own concert years ago...

...I was in the Bacon School band in 4th grade and worked my way up in a couple of years from third trumpet all the way to second trumpet (I only practiced when threatened with bodily harm) until I graduated from 8th.  I vainly attempted to play the trumpet for years until I went out for football in high school and never touched my horn again  – a very expensive and loud instrument bit the dust at a yard sale years later.

Our “ band” was under the direction of Mrs. N. (I rarely use full names to protect the innocent and avoid lawsuits for slander).  She seemed a very nervous, very thin, very far sighted music teacher - who always looked worried.  I remember two things about our band.  One – we never quite got in tune for the performance.  And most of all,  I will never forget our Annual Christmas Cantata  in which we played every Christmas song ever penned.  This show went on longer than a history lesson on the day before a school vacation.  During the performance chorus members were known to pass out from lack of food.  My lip always became numb after the twelfth chorus of My Three Kings, played as a round - and we had just begun our musical marathon.  We yet to play Gregorian chants, Medieval Welch carols, Bing Crosby's greatest holiday hits.  Some with Latin names like Adeste Fideles ( I always called it “at guest day feed-all-us”)  I blared my harmony out as the audience yawned in time with the tunes.  

My mother and grandmother were seasoned school program goers – they beamed as I blasted my second trumpet trills, frills and flourishes during the Traditional Olde English Standards of the 18th Century segment of the concert.  I had a two note solo.  The chorus sang in Latin and English at the same time on these ancient rapsodies in two part harmony,  Next, Miss N. thumbed her pile of music sheets,  and then tapped the music stand with her two foot baton.  We were at the ready for a rare Armenian Folk Song.  I operated my long overdue, spit valve which made a loud blatting sound and missed the downbeat.  This piece featured a triangle solo by my cousin Warren, a virtuoso on this age-old percussion instrument.

And then it was finally over.  All 800 carols had been rendered for another year.  The audience stood and wildly cheered.  Madame N. made her well rehearsed bow at least five times as the band prayed she would not offer an encore. For many in the audience it was finally a chance to wake up their legs that had gone numb.

Lastly, Mrs. McC. , who must have been 90 years old principal, then thanked everyone in the Millville White Pages and closed by bidding all a “Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!”  (Editor's note:  In the 50’s educators were actually permitted to utter the word Christmas on school property instead of the current generic “Winter Holiday”)  The best part of the evening for me was an ice-cream soda on the way home at George and Mary’s Luncheonette. 

That night, in bed, as I held a washcloth with an ice on my throbbing lip,  (Editor’s note: Technically the lip for a trumpet player is called an embouchure -  I would learn this years doing a crossword puzzle), I had a very anxious moment because I remembered that our Annual Spring Concert was just a few months away!