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1 year ago
Monday, December 25, 2017
Sunday, December 24, 2017
The Third Bell
When we arrived, it was sunset already, and went to our desks, but we took our coats along with us, because we would soon be leaving for the church service soon. All dressed in our Sunday best, making fun of the way everybody's parents had dressed them.
The teacher calls the class to order, panic time is here. One last fast run-through of the recitations has us convinced that we have forgotten everything. The previous two or three weeks of classes, largely devoted to learning these parts, all for naught. It is SHOW TIME!
In the few remaining moments before final assembly, we compare notes on our family Christmas celebrations, and, mostly, our Christmas presents. Some have already opened their gifts, some have to wait until tomorrow morning, some are so cool they know already what they're getting, so it doesn't matter. Ah, adolescence! Too cool to care. Ya, sure.
Tonight, we have not one but two performances. The Christmas service attendance is so large that one service couldn't hold all the spectators. Between the services, we return to the classroom, where the "room mothers" (volunteer parents) serve s cookies and juice. We were the sought-after commodity, the stars of the show.
Classes line up and march out of the classroom, single file, in the exact order of our pews. There are approximately 300 of us. We are directed to the sidewalk, class by class, and march over to the church, where we wait outside for the beginning of the service processional, signaled by the church bells.
Standing in the magical icy Christmas stillness, we are still talking about presents, but, in somewhat muted tones, because we're not supposed to be talking at all.
And, finally, from the church steeple, a creaking from the steeple means the bells are about to ring. The familiar Ding Dong starts to peal from the steeple, in and out of sync with one another as each bell tolls at its own rate. And tonight, there's an extra bell a third voice that we has never heard from our steeple before. A third bell. Higher-pitched, and much faster tolling rate, this bell doesn't at first seem to belong with the other two, as if from some other church steeple, but then one discovers that this bell adds its joy to the special occasions celebrated by the other bells.
The director this year is Mr. Brauer, the music teacher. He played the violin and looked and sounded, appropriately, like Jack Benny. During various numbers, including the processional, he picks up his violin and soars over the melody with a beautiful descant.
The church is packed to capacity as we enter. The church hits us all at once, it's warm, it's bright, it's full of sound, full of joy. The still dark tree in the front, must have been about 16 feet high. As the last of the procession goes into the front pews, the tree sprang to life. Three sections of lighting suddenly came to life, the tree drew so much power that a special service was installed from the utility pole. Brilliant white light bulbs created an overwhelming spectacle that was almost painful to look at.
Weeks of practice paid off, as we head to the exact seat in the exact pew we had rehearsed. The congregation is crowded into every pew, including the upstairs. The normal echoes of the church are absorbed into nothingness by the capacity crowd. The organ even sounds strange. "O Come All Ye Faithful" played at full capacity of the organ, sforzando and all using pipes not normally deployed and then some, but no match for the lusty singing of the congregation. These people were ready for a spectacular, and spectacular we were!
The teacher calls the class to order, panic time is here. One last fast run-through of the recitations has us convinced that we have forgotten everything. The previous two or three weeks of classes, largely devoted to learning these parts, all for naught. It is SHOW TIME!
In the few remaining moments before final assembly, we compare notes on our family Christmas celebrations, and, mostly, our Christmas presents. Some have already opened their gifts, some have to wait until tomorrow morning, some are so cool they know already what they're getting, so it doesn't matter. Ah, adolescence! Too cool to care. Ya, sure.
Tonight, we have not one but two performances. The Christmas service attendance is so large that one service couldn't hold all the spectators. Between the services, we return to the classroom, where the "room mothers" (volunteer parents) serve s cookies and juice. We were the sought-after commodity, the stars of the show.
Classes line up and march out of the classroom, single file, in the exact order of our pews. There are approximately 300 of us. We are directed to the sidewalk, class by class, and march over to the church, where we wait outside for the beginning of the service processional, signaled by the church bells.
Standing in the magical icy Christmas stillness, we are still talking about presents, but, in somewhat muted tones, because we're not supposed to be talking at all.
And, finally, from the church steeple, a creaking from the steeple means the bells are about to ring. The familiar Ding Dong starts to peal from the steeple, in and out of sync with one another as each bell tolls at its own rate. And tonight, there's an extra bell a third voice that we has never heard from our steeple before. A third bell. Higher-pitched, and much faster tolling rate, this bell doesn't at first seem to belong with the other two, as if from some other church steeple, but then one discovers that this bell adds its joy to the special occasions celebrated by the other bells. The director this year is Mr. Brauer, the music teacher. He played the violin and looked and sounded, appropriately, like Jack Benny. During various numbers, including the processional, he picks up his violin and soars over the melody with a beautiful descant.
The church is packed to capacity as we enter. The church hits us all at once, it's warm, it's bright, it's full of sound, full of joy. The still dark tree in the front, must have been about 16 feet high. As the last of the procession goes into the front pews, the tree sprang to life. Three sections of lighting suddenly came to life, the tree drew so much power that a special service was installed from the utility pole. Brilliant white light bulbs created an overwhelming spectacle that was almost painful to look at.
Weeks of practice paid off, as we head to the exact seat in the exact pew we had rehearsed. The congregation is crowded into every pew, including the upstairs. The normal echoes of the church are absorbed into nothingness by the capacity crowd. The organ even sounds strange. "O Come All Ye Faithful" played at full capacity of the organ, sforzando and all using pipes not normally deployed and then some, but no match for the lusty singing of the congregation. These people were ready for a spectacular, and spectacular we were!
Saturday, November 25, 2017
It Doesn't Look Like a Church . . .
"It doesn't look like a church, and it's not that visible from the road". My contact, Dorothy, was giving me directions to the Hartland Christian Science church. I had been contacted to substitute for the regular pianist at the Thanksgiving Eve Christian Science church in Hartland. After the 45 minute drive, I found that I couldn't follow Dorothy's directions, because there was no light. I could see no street signs, no house numbers, and there were no visible drive ways or cross roads, no driveway reflectors and very few street lights.
So, I turned to Garmin, my GPS navigator. Garmin was in a cranky mood, guess she thought she'd have off on the Thanksgiving holiday. "Re CAL kew lating" . Without warning, after a few obscure turns into what looked like driveways, but they were really roads, Garmin sang out "Arriving, Christian Science", the address I had entered previously. However, I sailed right past it, because there was a suburbanite glaring his headlights into my back window, and I did not see a road, so I couldn't slow down.
After more than half a mile, I found an intersection with a streetlight overhead, and restarted Garmin, to take me back to the destination. I must have gotten her mad; because she took me on winding roads through neighborhoods of newly-built suburban mansions, she ordered me to "Drive Point Four Miles" in a cul-de-sac, round and round she made me drive, and countless other indignities. I was now completely disregarding the suburban pickups, knowing that my mission was more crucial than driving little Tiffany to her Batik lesson. I came to the point where Garmin said "Arriving Christian Science", and drove off the road in the dark next to a mail box. Luckily, it was a driveway.
The long narrow driveway led to a far-off building lit by a yard light. I straightened my tie, got my music case, turned off the GPS and walked toward the building. One car was already parked in the lot. The entrance was unlocked, so I went in. It was a large building, with a rough concrete floor. My glasses fogged up in the warm air inside. The building was partitioned into various cubicles with large windows in the partitions. From what I could see, Dorothy was right about it not looking like a church. This building was very utilitarian looking.
"This isn't the Christian Science Church, is it?"
"No where did you get that idea?"
"My GPS said that this is the Christian Science Church of Hartland."
"Those damn things - you can't trust 'em. There's a Christian Science in Hartland, but it's about two miles that way" he pomted.
Dave was enjoying the story he be telling about the "city slicker and his GPS", and he gave me directions to cover the TWO MILES that I had missed. And, with the REAL directions, I got to the Christian Science church, on time for the service.
The church was a beautiful little white building set far back from the road, approached by a wooded winding driveway. And it didn't look like a church.
The service itself was my first encounter with Christian Science, and it was a beautiful and intimate service that I will remember for the rest of my life. God is Love.
===================
Excelsior - the Book is now available on Amazon. Just FOLLOW THIS LINK, or type "Gary Guetzlaff" into Amazon's main page. Just in time for Holiday Giving.
So, I turned to Garmin, my GPS navigator. Garmin was in a cranky mood, guess she thought she'd have off on the Thanksgiving holiday. "Re CAL kew lating" . Without warning, after a few obscure turns into what looked like driveways, but they were really roads, Garmin sang out "Arriving, Christian Science", the address I had entered previously. However, I sailed right past it, because there was a suburbanite glaring his headlights into my back window, and I did not see a road, so I couldn't slow down.
After more than half a mile, I found an intersection with a streetlight overhead, and restarted Garmin, to take me back to the destination. I must have gotten her mad; because she took me on winding roads through neighborhoods of newly-built suburban mansions, she ordered me to "Drive Point Four Miles" in a cul-de-sac, round and round she made me drive, and countless other indignities. I was now completely disregarding the suburban pickups, knowing that my mission was more crucial than driving little Tiffany to her Batik lesson. I came to the point where Garmin said "Arriving Christian Science", and drove off the road in the dark next to a mail box. Luckily, it was a driveway.
The long narrow driveway led to a far-off building lit by a yard light. I straightened my tie, got my music case, turned off the GPS and walked toward the building. One car was already parked in the lot. The entrance was unlocked, so I went in. It was a large building, with a rough concrete floor. My glasses fogged up in the warm air inside. The building was partitioned into various cubicles with large windows in the partitions. From what I could see, Dorothy was right about it not looking like a church. This building was very utilitarian looking.
"Helloooo!" I said, looking for someone to take me to the assembly hall. The building was not very warm, and there was a hay-like country smell in the air, probably from being closed up all week.
"Hellooo!" a second time - there was a stirring in one of the cubicles, as if someone bumped a chair against a wooden wall. I headed toward the cubicle where I heard the stirring. My glasses were clearing up, and I noticed that the windows in the partitions were open, not glazed. Looking into the cubicle, I saw a horse. A Horse. Horse was completely covered with protective canvas, like a race horse. The horse looked at me, and I chided myself not to make judgments. I had never played at a Christian Science church, and If the horses were not involved in the service proper, perhaps there was some Amish thing going on to get them to their services.
Looking for someone to help sort out this sensory overload, I walked further into the building. As I got to the end of the hallway, two dogs came bounding out around the corner, barking and standing their ground. They looked like mostly-Labradors, and they weren't growling. I was so stunned, I did not run for cover, just stood there gaping. The Labs settled down, as long as I remained still.
A man in overalls came in through the back door. Through the door, I saw an enclosure with a horse running around inside.
A man in overalls came in through the back door. Through the door, I saw an enclosure with a horse running around inside.
"This isn't the Christian Science Church, is it?"
"No where did you get that idea?"
"My GPS said that this is the Christian Science Church of Hartland."
"Those damn things - you can't trust 'em. There's a Christian Science in Hartland, but it's about two miles that way" he pomted.
"I'm Dave. We give riding lessons, but we don't have services here.I never ask the horses what denomination they are."
Dave was enjoying the story he be telling about the "city slicker and his GPS", and he gave me directions to cover the TWO MILES that I had missed. And, with the REAL directions, I got to the Christian Science church, on time for the service.
The church was a beautiful little white building set far back from the road, approached by a wooded winding driveway. And it didn't look like a church.
The service itself was my first encounter with Christian Science, and it was a beautiful and intimate service that I will remember for the rest of my life. God is Love.
===================
Excelsior - the Book is now available on Amazon. Just FOLLOW THIS LINK, or type "Gary Guetzlaff" into Amazon's main page. Just in time for Holiday Giving.
Sunday, October 29, 2017
And Now . . . on Amazon - - ANGELA!
Kindle Publishing is a specialized instance of electronic document publishing, owned by Amazon - if you're unfamiliar with e-books, it's something like a music download. You can read a Kindle book if you have a Kindle, or you can get a Kindle "app" for almost any mobile device, tablet, Kindle Fire tablet, or even for a PC. If you have Amazon Prime, you can download and read, for FREE, a huge selection of Kindle titles, mine included. You can even read it on your cell phone. If you want to try reading it on a rotary-dial phone, however, you're on your own.
I originally wrote the Christmas stories because I needed stories for a Christmas variety show I was putting together as part of Milwaukee's venerable 25 year run of Music on KK, a community concert series established by my wife, Joyce Parker.
Trouble was, I couldn't find a published Christmas story that was just right for our show, so I wrote one. I wanted stories that were full of the child-like joy and magic that you can still experience sometimes at Christmas, at a time when we take time to appreciate one another. Over the years the stories have been refined and polished, always improving. I've finally got something that I can read, pause, and then say softly "And that's what Christmas is all about, Charlie Brown".
Reviews are an important part of the Amazon publishing process. Review statistics, to Amazon are an indication of the author's marketability; I'd like to come down on the good side of that . . . I think of Gil Shine, a theater director with whom I used to create shows. After each show, Gil used to appear on stage after the curtain call, a short stooped gray-haired elf with a twinkle in his eye and he'd make his announcement to the audience. Let me paraphrase: "If you have read the book, and like it, please leave a short Amazon review. If you didn't like the stories, Mum's the word!"
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