The last couple of weeks have been rough, in terms of my headspace.  The winds have been blowing hot and cold – comments, arguments, and issues old and new, whistling in my ears, buffeting my spirit.  The waves kept me off balance, changing direction as events I couldn’t have predicted rolled under my feet.  The rain came and went as tears, as anger, as shaking my tiny fist at the heavens.   

My boat was not overturned by the wind, or the waves, mind you – I just had to concentrate more on the safety issues, to the expense of my charted course.  In other words, everything I had planned went to hell. 

I wrote 1,000 posts in my head, as well as 10-15 pages which just kept veering into odd places; I was looking for my center of gravity. I think it started (as it has, lately) with the great gay debate – marriage/civil unions.  I wasn’t just reading and writing comments, I was feeling the energy behind them.  I threw in my pennies, nickels and dimes for awhile, and then had to stop.  When you’re poor, it adds up.  The small town I live in does not make for a prosperous spiritual economy, even if my family has abundant riches.

Everything I wrote became angry all too quickly – I was haunted by the echoes of the voices of the People With Whose Ideas I Disagree (PWWIID).  For the record, I am really, really good at writing anger.  It is one place I truly shine.  I am on par with the best of ranters (well, not as good as Verbal Remedy) – ask anyone who knows me personally. 

I’m often pretty funny while doing it – I have to be, otherwise I’ll scare myself.  I’m also quite skilled at not acting in harmful ways.  But words can hurt.  They shouldn’t, but they can.  And I don’t want my anger to be the mark of my character.  I also can’t afford to turn it inward, to let it drag me back into a dark cave.

So, I've decided to tell you about one good thing that happened.

Sunday morning dawned, and I was rudderless.  And had forgotten that the High School Choir was doing a concert.  Which means that the Giant was performing, basically against his will (we forced him to take choir so that he'd do at least 1 extra-curricular activity), for a hometown audience. 

He announced it over brunch, and the Raven drove him to the school, cautioning me to get ready, and look presentable.The Giant declared, in his manly-man voice, "You know you guys don't have to go.  It's no big deal."  But, if you read my letter to the Giant, you know this is a big deal for me.  So - let me skip to the good part: We went. 

We sat near the back, and tried not to laugh, but we went to the performance (came in late, left a little early, but still!).  Believe it or not, while that is very cool, it's not the really good part - well, it is, but this post is not about "awww Owl," this is about my sudden recollection:

I'd forgotten how incredibly painful it is to listen to a small-town high school choir.

If you have any sense of tone or rhythm, this is the second-worst thing you can do to yourself.  The first-worst is listen to a 6th grade band recital.  God bless the children, but oh my Lord, this is love.First the regular choir.  How do I put into words that which I'm glad I didn't record?  I'll try to capture the highlights.

Every song except one had a religious theme.  I had forgotten that in a small town, that is still allowed.  However, it gave me something to think about while politely not noticing that the only choir member WITH any enthusiasm was enthusiastically off key by approximately a quarter tone, usually flat.  He was also the loudest.  Meanwhile, I wondered:

1. Has anyone in the audience even thought about the separation of church and state, or knew what it meant?

2. Are there any atheists, agnostics, or pagans present, and if so (surely so, right?):

        A. Did they even notice the religious theme, or

         B. Was it so engrained that they didn't give it a second thought?

3. Is the teacher a serious churchy, or is this was the only music she had due to budget cuts?

4.  Whatever happened to "California Dreamin'"?

I have never seen teen agers look so bored as the Giant and his cohort did.  Maybe the choir robes enhanced the look, but wow - there is nothing like hearing "Hosanna" sung grudgingly.

The entire ensemble skulked off the stage, concluding the Giant’s participation.  We debated leaving early, since the Swing Choir was slated to perform next, but decided to see what they had.  Raven warned me not to expect too much.  

It began with a moving performance of “This Joint is Jumping.”  And by moving performance, I do not mean that I nearly cried.  I mean that the kids in the sparkly vests and dresses did not stand still in their lack of enthusiasm; instead, they droned faster than the previous choir, and scuffled around the stage.  God/dess bless them – jazz hands thrown to half mast, a half beat behind with no time to actually shake them.  To watch the boys “dance” with the girls, you would never have guessed that they had ever wanted to touch a girl, ever, for any reason.  I didn’t laugh, although I inwardly wished there were a few gay boys bold enough to bring some style to the troupe.

Then there was the girls’ medley of Carrie Underwood songs (you will quicky see that I'm not a rabid fan, though I have nothing against her or her genre).  The best parts for me were these: 

1.  Something about a single mother on a slippery road with her kid, punctuated by “hands on the steering wheel” motions.

2.  A ballad about a dad who wants to have boys with which to pass a football; this was illustrated by one of the choir boys tossing a non-spiral to another across the stage (the football was then thrown unceremoniously off-stage).  For the verse where the baby was born, the boys each cradled and rocked an infant doll for about 2 measures (thankfully, they did not throw them off-stage, except in my imagination).

3. Something about trophies.  I think.  The trophies were held up at some point, but I guess it could have been part of highlight number 2.

We left sometime after that.  I waited for the Raven to use the bathroom while listening to the beginning of the boys medley, which began with “Chantilly Lace,” I believe.  Passing through the halls, we startled the obligatory couple making out.

Yeah, the performance itself was fingernails on a blackboard.

I couldn't have been happier.