When my dad moved us to Montana, I was sad to leave behind my Bellevue friends for the second time, but also looked forward to a world where no one knew that I played the piano. When it came time to register for classes, I auditioned for the top choir and made it. That choir yielded some of my fondest high school memories and dearest friends, and also introduced me to innumerable choral works.
The choir had a tradition at every December concert of singing the Austrian carol, “Still, Still, Still.” Always the final song of the concert, Miss Mac would turn to the audience and invite any alumni to the stage to join the choir and sing. Every Christmas since, when I hear that song, I am back on the stage in Williamson Hall, clasping the hand of the singer next to me before singing.
This year, the only singing I’ve done is in my car or my kitchen or even my classroom before kids or Stueve arrived; no communal carol singing of any sort. So I spent time this month learning a piano solo arrangement of “Still, Still, Still” mashed up with “Silent Night.” Initially, I thought I would record it and send it to my lifelong friend Mike–we met in that choir, by the way– as some sort of lame attempt at a long-distance Christmas gift. But then I thought about so many people I know (and I’m sure plenty more I don’t) who are low this season, who are missing concerts and caroling, who find music as a space for faith and comfort.
Sharing with just Mike is safe–he won’t point out the missed notes or uneven pedaling or changing tempos, because he’s my friend, but also because he shares my sentimentality for the song. I know it’s not a perfect recording, but I hope as you listen, you think of the people who made past Christmases special, and if you haven’t yet reached out to them, do so.
Merry Christmas.
Julie Rowse 