Back when I was a children’s librarian, I decided to go to Loughborough, the international conference on children’s literature, the year it met in Wales. The topic was Welsh mythology in children’s literature. I was a fan of Lloyd Alexander’s series about Taran, which had a bit of Welsh mythology in it, but mainly I wanted to hear some of that fabled Welsh singing. And the trip would be tax deductible. It was international, but there were more Americans there than anyone else. One lunch I sat across from a young English woman, who said if she had really paid attention to the topic, she wouldn’t have come this time. Because who needs Welsh mythology when we teach Greek and Roman. And so I came to understand that cup in the souvenir store that said, “Keep Wales tidy. Drop your litter in England.”

 

 

I was reminded of all this because on December 30, Bonnie Lockhart and her husband Teddy and Fran Avni and Claudia and I all went to the last two hours of the annual Circle Sing, a noon-to-midnight marathon of vocal improvisation. We were the choir, but there was no lyric booklet and, most of the time, no lyrics. One member or friend of SoVoSo led each two hour section of vocal improvisation; our leader was David Worm. This was my first time at the sing, and I feared it would be ethereal and meandering, but it was mostly structured and rhythmic—though there were ethereal moments. There were about seventy-five of us, clustered about three deep in a circle around Dave. He would face a section of us and start repeating the line he wanted us to sing, we would take it up, and then usually he would improvise against that a while and find a line to teach the next section—at least that’s what I think he was doing. It was fascinating to watch him compose on his feet. I had a smile on my face a lot of the time. Not everybody sang the assigned part. Sometimes I felt more comfortable with the line the people across from me were singing and sang with them. For a while a tall guy next to me was doing vocal percussion. Sometimes someone would step into the middle and improvise over what we were laying down. Then Dave would close off a section or two and start something else over what was left, or start something completely new. The nice thing about holding the sing in a church was that when my knees started giving out I could lie down in a pew for a while and listen. Some people just sat and listened, but most stood and sang (except for the woman in the wheelchair who sat and sang). Good mix of people, different races, different ages (Fran had been there in the afternoon also, and reported that there were little kids then), professional musicians (I recognized a few) and happy amateurs. The looks on people’s faces was as lifting as the music—concentration, bliss, or the cool enjoyment of being in the happening place. We ended on a big long-held chord and wishes for a good new year. Next year we want to see what it’s like when Linda Tillery is leading.

 

 

Happy New Year.