Far Out, Man.....

I plan to take part in the Slice of Life March Challenge, but wonder if the first week I will fail.  Now why would I worry about this?  I have participated for four years and managed to put something together for 99% of the time.  In fact, the challenge forces me to write.  And that is a good thing.  My fear is because we will be traveling the first week of March, I am not sure how much down time we will have.

We will be on the Flower Power Cruise!  We have already received our Flower Power T-shirts and I have purchased a few items that will take us back to the 1960s. We have love beads, a headband with a peace sign on it, John Lennon hats and a pair of John Lennon sunglasses.  Ray tells me that he doubts he will be wearing the love beads or the peace sign tattoos, but we shall see.

Ray was the one who first heard
about the Flower Power Cruise and mentioned it to me.  From there, I got on line and signed us up fearing that there would be no more room on the ship.  We have no clue as to what it will be like.  We know we will enjoy the music and hope to meet some of the artists.  Micky Dolenz from the Monkees, Peter Noone from Herman's Hermits, Mark Lindsay from Paul Revere and the Raiders....wow...those are just a few!  It will be like watching "Where the Action Is"* while cruising to Key West and Cozumel.

My Slices will probably be short, with pictures of the day's activities and short descriptions.  I hope to get at least that much done.  "Nothing's Gonna Stop Us Now" as we "Dance to the Music" and are"Groovin" to the tunes.  "Can't You Hear My Heart Beat!!"
Peace and Love to us all.

Here is a website for the 2017 Flower Power Cruise.  This year's has been sold out for weeks. Flower Power Cruise 2017

*For those young people who may not know about "Where the Action Is", here is a YouTube clip to enjoy.  Where the Action Is  It was an after school show full of music, dancing and fun.

St. Valentine's Day Maxine Scene

I meant to write this post for Valentine's Day, but have to admit that I completely forgot.  Even reading all of the Valentine wishes on Facebook did not jar my memory to put pen to paper, or fingers to keyboard, to write this piece.  So, using the cliche, "Better late than never,"  I will write it today.


My sister and I were sorting family pictures last November (Yes, I have been waiting since November to write this! How could I have forgotten!) we came across a Valentine that my mother had made for my father.  It looks like she took a doily and sewed it onto a piece of thick paper. She had typed an endearing poem that she had written, just for my dad.


Anyone who knew my parents knows that my father thought my mother was the sweetest, funniest, prettiest and most wonderful woman in the world.  I have written a number of posts that support this. I will list them at the bottom for any who may want to read some.  Maxine, my mother, was a one of a kind character and my dad, Mort, loved her unconditionally with his whole heart...as she did him.  I was so fortunate to have Maxine and Mort as role models.

Here is the Valentine Maxine wrote to Mort!  It shows her true personality.  It may sound a bit self centered...but she really knew my dad, and this is just what he would have wanted.

I will type the poem in case it is difficult to read from the picture.

Roses are red, violets are blue

I wracked my brain for what to give you.

Then my mind drifted to something for me,

Things made of wood, real pretty to see.

So I thought I would buy a real handy tool
So you can make me things really cool.
Not knowing what tool you need the most
I'm giving you money---so then I can boast
About all the nice things you're making for me
'Cause your'e my Valentine and I love thee!

She knew my dad.  He did like to spend time in his workshop, especially working with wood.  I am sure he made her something special with whatever tool he bought.  It probably had a butterfly theme. Yes, there was only one Maxine, but there was only one Mort, too.  I think it is time to write a series about how they met, not quite the classic as War and Peace...but pretty close.

Mort and Mack still holding hands!

Fun Maxine stories!
Maxine Overdrive
Maxine Overdrive Sequel
Attack of the Bumble Bees  Oh how brave my dad was!!!
If the Shoe Fits  Oh how patient my dad was!!!!
Dogged Determination

You'll Love This Log

Before Christmas, Cathy Mere asked (on Facebook) what we were having for dessert for Christmas dinner this year.  There were many replies to her question, and so I posted that we would be having cookies and a Yule Log.  Some people asked about the Yule Log and I told them that I would post a picture of it.  Well, the picture did not get posted and so I thought I would write a blog entry about it. 

The Yule Log has a long history.  It was once a custom to burn a Yule log at Winter Solstice.  Often it would be a whole tree with the trunk stuck in the fireplace with the tree hanging into the room.  "Yule" was the  name of the Winter Solstice festivities in Scandinavia way back in medieval times.   A more detailed description of the history can be found here: History of Yule Log.  Over the years, people turned to Christianity but many continued the custom of burning a Yule Log. Sometime someone must have decided that instead of burning some huge log and smoking up the house...it might be tastier to bake a cake in the shape of the Yule Log.

My sister, Linda, can bake or cook anything and always with yummy results. Everything is made from scratch...Linda refuses to use prepared food. Her Yule Log is an example.  It has become a family tradition.  I have a few pictures and videos that show how she makes it.    She starts by baking a very thin cake...the same kind as in making a jelly roll cake.  After that she fills it with whipped cream, rolls it and puts it in the refrigerator to cool.  While it is cooling she makes chocolate ganache and meringue mushrooms.  The videos will show some of these steps.

I am not sure what recipe Linda uses to make the ganache, but here is one that you can use if you decide to make a Yule Log. Ganache Recipe

Making the ganache.

 The meringue mushrooms are such fun.  Here is a video that shows how Linda makes them.

Here is a finished meringue mushroom. Linda sprinkles cocoa on them to give them a "woodsy" look.

Linda cuts the roll into three pieces.  Two are very small that she uses as knots on the log.

Here is what the Yule Log looks like after it has been rolled.  There is sweetened whipped cream inside.

This video shows Linda spreading the ganache on the Yule Log and explaining a little about her process of making the Yule Log.

After the ganache has been spread on the Yule Log it is put in the refrigerator to chill and set.  Next is to make the ganache look like bark.

                                          

The next step is to put mushrooms on the Yule Log.

                                         

This last video was made a few years ago when Linda , with her grandson Cooper's help, finished the Yule Log.  It shows a fun time as Cooper explains to his father how he helped his grandma make the mushrooms.  He made most of them!  It also shows that Linda had time that year to put holly berries and leaves on the Yule Log.  

It is fun to have such holiday traditions and I am lucky that my sister makes sure we have memories like these.  She always prepares our Christmas Eve dinner making sure there is something for everyone's taste. We are a family of finicky eaters....so that is a difficult task. ( Oops, Ray just read this and claims that being omnivorous puts him out of the finicky group.)  This group of finicky eaters (and one who eats anything) all look forward to having a piece of the Yule Log to finish off another yummy dinner.  Thank you, Linda!

This year's Yule Log...without the holly leaves and berries.

Taking the Plunge

American Gothic Plunge

I begin this by stating that my husband, Ray, is one of the smartest people I know.  His vocabulary is so vast, he could have written the Thesaurus.  His wit and wordsmithing always keep me laughing.  He also writes songs, sings, plays guitar (and working on the harmonica) and records these creations.  As a retired computer programmer, Ray has become my computer guru.  He can fix almost all of my computer woes.  I could write a whole blog post singing praises to Ray, but I think that would make him uncomfortable.

That being said.....Ray is not a plumber....nor am I.  So, what do I do one evening when the kitchen garbage disposal vomits its contents into both sinks?  It was a complete surprise...no hint of a slow drain.  The water had disappeared so I tried the disposal again.  Something must be plugging it because the result was the same.  So, I hesitantly stuck my hand in the garbage disposal  (The disposal was NOT running.) to check for anything that could be clogging it.  Nothing...except gross pieces of 'stuff' sticking to my hand.  Yuk!  

At this time, I just had to tell Ray.  We had been watching the last episode of Fargo when I had gone into the kitchen to clean up.  I tend to leave the room at tense parts of that show. Anyway... I think it was about the time Ed and Peggy had locked themselves in the store freezer, hiding from some guy with a rifle...and someone was kicking at the freezer door.  That is when I called Ray in to assess the sink mess.  Thank goodness the show was recorded, so we did not miss the ending.

We decided to use the plunger...but where was it?  I found a small one in the upstairs bathroom, but it didn't work.  Ray finally found a large plunger somewhere in the basement.  We both plunged away, only to create a worse mess, and for some reason, more water.  Now there was about an inch of icky water in both sinks.

My solution....use Draino!  Of course, I did not think we had any.  I use vinegar and baking soda on our drains (but have neglected the kitchen!!!) and we never have (or had) clogged drains.  So off to the store to get something stronger to tackle the drain.  I returned with two bottles of Liquid Plumber...the kind that was supposed to eat through the clog and all we had to do was wait and then run hot water down the drain.  It did not work.  Now we had more water standing in the sink.  

Next step is to use a snake.  We bailed out as much water as we could and then I used a plastic Coke bottle to suction out most of the rest.   Ray was not successful in his search for the snake....so I ordered one from Lowes to pick up in the morning.  By this time it was about 9:00 and we were tired of working on the sink.  Plus, we wanted to find out what happened to Ed and Peggy. 

To see how our clogged drain fiasco ends...watch this YouTube.  I managed to take some video of the rest of the story......Snaking through the Clog.  

The Cat Burglar

It is that time of year again....Thanksgiving.  As I have mentioned in a previous post, Thanksgiving was never a favorite holiday of mine when I was a kid...in fact, it was that dreaded day where I had to sit at a table full of food that I did not like.  We usually had guests and I had to be on my best behavior, which did not mean staring at my plate with a small dab of mashed potatoes, a tiny slice of turkey and three beans from the horrid lima bean specialty that everyone raved about.  I could never understand (and still don't) how people would request that my father make that dish.  I think I hated about every kind of traditional Thanksgiving food.  Sweet potatoes were almost as bad as the lima beans.  The bribe of eating the food on your plate (which was minuscule) and then I could have dessert did not work because I did not like pumpkin pie either.  Sometimes Maxine would fix a mince meat pie which would about put me over the edge.  At least I was not expected to try that.  Oh how happy I was when sometimes a guest would bring a pecan pie.  I would even eat four lima beans if my reward was a piece of pecan pie.

This is our Barn House, from the back.  I am in the tree. 1966

By the time I got in high school, I had learned to smile and join in the chit chat as I choked down a small amount of what everyone else was calling a delicious feast.  And I know...it was.  My father spent a lot of time planning and cooking while my mother took care of decorating, setting the table and boiling the water for the potatoes.  What I do like about Thanksgiving is that I have some fun memories.  Once, we had dinner at Linda's in-laws, Ed and Em Foster's home (the only time our feast was not at our place).  As soon as we said "Amen" to the prayer...all of the food started sliding toward my sister and Barb.  The table leg had broken and had fallen to the floor.  Linda and Barb were quick to catch the sliding dishes and bowls of food while holding up the table. Ed solved the problem by stacking a pile of books where the table leg belonged.  Fortunately, he was a college professor and books were in great supply.  I truly enjoyed that dinner.  The best thing (other than the near catastrophe of food falling to the floor) was that Em served her plum pudding with hard sauce. Wow!  Here was something I actually liked!

It has taken me some time to set up the story for this post. This takes place in our house in Toledo.  We had just moved to what I called our Barn House.  Our old one eyed, jagged ears, no tail black cat (Black Beauty) had died a few months after we moved there.  Dad, Linda and I saw an ad in the paper for a Siamese kitten...and one day we brought little Bangy (short for Bangkok) home.  The first thing that cute little blue eyed kitty did was climb the custom drapes that Maxine had installed the week before. (Poor Bangy was declawed (front only) soon after per Maxine's demand.)

Here I am holding Black Beauty, the one eyed, no tailed cat.
This was probably 1966

This Thanksgiving took place in 1966.  That was when it was no big deal to leave a frozen turkey in the sink all night to thaw out.  My dad did this every Thanksgiving.  This year was eventful in that when he walked downstairs he noticed pieces of plastic making a path through the living room, dining room and into the kitchen.  To his horror, in the kitchen sink, the once plump turkey had bits of pieces torn from its breast.  (Bangy was sleeping on the couch, his fat tummy rising and falling as he dreamed little cat dreams.)

Those of you fortunate to have know my father, (Mort) know that he was a most patient man.  I rarely saw him get angry.  Most people would have been angry with the cat, but my dad realized that he should have taken precautions to prevent Bangy from getting to the turkey.  Dad was able to "repair" the damage and later served a lopsided turkey.  We always had guests for Thanksgiving and they laughed about the cat eating the turkey...even Maxine thought it was funny (once she realized our guests were not grossed out about having the cat eat part of the turkey) , and Bangy was forgiven with a small meal of cooked turkey.

This was the only picture I could find of Bangy.  I was going to some dance with
a guy named Bob.  Maybe Linda has a better picture of Bangy.

The story does not end there.  The year is 1967.  We had the same guests as well as others. (Sometimes our family of four would have twenty or more join us)  This time, my dad put a heavy pot lid over turkey and wedged it in the sink.  He also put Bangy in the basement for the night. The next morning he was greeted with pieces of plastic in the living room, dining room and kitchen.  The lid was shoved to one side and the wounded turkey looked pathetic.  Bangy was washing his paws while sitting in a sunbeam.

"THAT DARN CAT!!" was all my father said....his voice slightly raised, but he had a smile on his face.  He had been outsmarted by a cat!  Again, he repaired the wounds and again our guests were presented with a turkey with a pothole right in the middle of the breast.  I don't know who was blamed, but one of us must not have closed the basement door completely.

Shall I continue?  It is 1968.  This year Bangy spent the night in the basement again.  Poor Bangy was used to roaming the house and honoring us if he chose to sleep in our bed. This was sad for all of us, but we could not have another year with the turkey breast mangled.  We all stood by the basement door and watched my dad check it to see that it was latched.

My father knew something was wrong when he saw Bangy sleeping on the couch the next morning. There were those dreaded plastic pieces strewn on the floor.  Yes, the turkey breast was chewed...again.  "THAT DARN CAT!"  Bangy looked up with sleepy eyes, stood up, stretched and walked into the kitchen, purring and winding around my dad's legs.  How could my dad be mad at this kitty....but how....how did the cat get out of the basement?

It was not until a few months later when Linda and I were making something in the kitchen that we learned Bangy's escape method.  We had put him in the basement while we were cooking.  Thump, Thump, Thump!  There was quite a thumping and banging downstairs.  It was getting closer!  And then...SWISH...out flies Bangy from the clothes chute.  He had braced himself and walked straight up (there was no angle).  I still don't know how he did it as it was slick metal all the way to the basement.

Once we told Dad what happened, he got his toolbox, wood and saw and built a compartment to catch the clothes.  He put a strong door on it with a strong latch.

The year is 1969.  Dad sees no plastic pieces on the floor.  In the kitchen a perfect turkey greets him. It will be the first Thanksgiving Dinner with a whole turkey on the table....except for one tiny slice.  Bangy is yowling to get out of the basement.  Dad opens the door.  "I finally outsmarted you, didn't I?" he said as he slipped a tiny piece of turkey into Bangy's bowl.

This is a family photo of us when Linda and I were in high school...about
the time that we had the mystery of the turkey eating cat.

Sid, Wonder Woman

Sid being Sid at a fundraiser.

I have always considered myself to be lucky.  I had no choice in who my parents and sister would be...and how fortunate that I landed in a supportive and loving family.  I did choose to say 'yes' to Ray's proposal of marriage...and that, too, has proven to be one of the best decisions I have made.  But this post is about how fortunate I feel in choosing to remain a teacher/counselor in a small school district and being able to work with many great people...one being, Sid Schafer, our middle school secretary.

Anyone who has worked in a school knows that the secretary is core of a successful school.  Anyone else can be absent (including the principal), but on the rare day that the secretary is absent...there is an underlying panic as to hoping nothing out of the ordinary occurs.  I am not going to go into all that the school secretary does because that would take pages...and this post is about one special person who happened to be the school secretary.

I can't remember the first time I met Sid.  I know that when I began teaching at the middle school, Sid greeted me with a serious look but with mischievous eyes.  I had walked into the office, the week before school, asking for my class lists and schedule.  "We don't have those yet," was her reply.  She could read the dismay on my face, and while answering the phone, (which did not stop ringing) she motioned me to a stack of papers on a small table behind her desk.  Ah...the class lists. "But don't touch them!" she said, "They will change daily. Don't write the names in your gradebook (this was long before computers) unless you want to do a lot of erasing."

I was a bit confused as to why the lists would change, but after watching Sid in action I realized that it was a miracle that there were even temporary lists.  Students were moving in and moving out, adding band or choir or dropping out....and oh no....the 8th grade science teacher has taken a job at another school.  She answered each call with a calm and confident voice.  I finally backed quietly out of the office, making eye contact that I would come back later.

That was my introduction of how talented Sid was.  As the years came and went, Sid and I became good friends.  Her knowledge of the community and families was priceless.  Many times she would pull me aside with news about a student or student's family that would help me.  Johnny's dog was hit by a car and died last night...so be aware; Susie's father lost his job; Jimmy's father was arrested for domestic violence; Cathy's grandma died.  The list would fill pages.  Her insight and knowledge of each of the students helped me and taught me.

I must get back to Sid's mischievous eyes.  The rest of this post will be times I had with Sid that bring smiles and joy to me.  Times I remember.....

I remember the tasty food Sid would bring to the office...sometimes daily...and sharing her unique recipes.  The office would often smell of vegetable soup, fresh baked bread, coffee cake, pies or some new Greek recipe.  There were always eating utensils for people to have a snack. 

I remember Sid wanting to write a play with me about middle school life.  Of course, the center of action would be the office.  We made a list of all of the characters and even picked out actors for each.  Sid was going to be played by Meryl Streep...or maybe Lucille Ball.  Bea Arthur would play Rae.  Sid looked at me and said, "Patty Duke or Sissy Spacek can be you because you are short."  I told her later that maybe Shirley McClaine would be a good choice for me, but Sid thought that our art teacher, Pottsy would be a better fit for Shirley. We had characters like the Mop Man (the man who came monthly to sell mop supplies...he had a deep voice and nice hair)...played by Lee Marvin.  Billy Bob Thornton would be one of our custodians.  Our choir director, Stephanie would be played by Julie Andrews and Mary Tyler Moore would play the librarian, Carol Pizor.  Anthony Hopkins would be the person in charge of food services, preparing meals for the cafeteria. (We tried to keep the gender of our characters the same as the staff...but thought Anthony would be a good touch for meal preparation.)  Morgan Freeman would play one of the English teachers where students would be in rapt attention in his class.  Jim Carey would play an inept teacher.

Sid and Rae...or Meryl and Bea

The list of characters grew.  Sid kept the list under her desk calendar and would pull it out when another character came to her.  We did this for years, so some of the characters had to retire or move to different schools.

Sid thought that while there would be action in the office... the background (the hallway and the gym, both could be seen from the office window)  would be would have various subplots.  An example would be this: 
Enter newspaper reporter to cover the student council food drive.  In the background music from the gym can be heard.  It is the aerobic warm down up0ed of Barry Manilow..."I Write the Songs."  As the reporter asks questions there are constant interruptions....Jim  Carey bringing down a student because he threw the teacher's stapler out the window...phone call that lunch would be five minutes late because the food truck got a flat tire...a student comes in stating he is sick (Sid takes his temperature and sends him back to class)....students are carrying various stage sets down the hall (not quietly and dropping props such as swords and billy clubs....The Pirates of Penzance actors playing their parts as they return to the music room.

We had so many scenarios.  I could write many posts about them.  But what I remember most is how we laughed when we thought of a new scene.  Why we never wrote these down...I don't know.  Maybe it would have taken the fun away...maybe it would have become a chore and we would lose the spontaneous plots.  So now I am combing my memory...and laughing at the fun times we had.

I must stop here...there are more stories...so I think I will have to write more posts about Sid.  She was one of those 'One of a Kind' people....like my mother, Maxine and my dear friend Rae.  Yes, I have been so fortunate to have these people in my life. But it is so difficult when I (we) lose another special person.  I miss their voices, laughs and wit...but I am so thankful to have the memories.

With a Voice of Singing....

Mary Anderson Playing Piano in
the Choir Room.

We all have had a person (or people) who have made a great impact on our lives.  This weekend I was able to join friends from many years ago.  We gathered to celebrate in song.  We all had been members of the Chapel Choir at Monroe Street United Methodist Church in Toledo, OH.  Our celebration was to honor Mary Anderson, our Minister of Music, whose love of music and dedication to youth was a gift that many of us did not appreciate until we got into the real world.

But I must back up and tell you  my first experience with the Chapel Choir.  My sister and I were not part of the choir program that started with the Cherub Choir for children 3-4 years old.  Linda and I moved to Toledo when she was a sophomore in high school and I was in the eighth grade.  Our family left a small country church, Salem Methodist, when we made that move.  This small church had nurtured us, an intimate and close congregation where we knew everyone. Salem also had the best pot lucks (or as we called them "pitch ins") full of all types of home made treats.  There were lots of tears on our last Sunday at Salem and we wondered if we would ever find another church like Salem.

Our parents planned to attend a number of churches in Toledo and then make a family decision on which we thought would be best.  The first church was Monroe Street.  It was huge!  Sitting in the pew I remember wondering if I would ever fit in...how would I find my way to the youth classes.  And then it happened!  I heard beautiful harmony coming from the back of the church...voices of a choir...soft and full of joy. And then silence....until the organ blared me into attention.  I sat upright, every cell in my body full of electricity.  What happened next, sent chills through me....the choir, singing, walked down the aisle.  First the men....I turned around to see a double line of high school students walking to the front of the church.  It seemed to go on forever. They filed to the front of the church and were seated in the choir section.

At that moment I knew...I wanted to be a part of that!  I think Linda must have felt the same thing because we convinced our parents at Sunday lunch that we did not want to go to another church...we knew that this was the place.  This was the perfect choir for Linda as she had already had voice training and fit right in.  Since I was in the eighth grade, I was a member of the Cecilia Choir, which was for 7th and 8th grade girls.  There was also a choir for the 7th and 8th grade boys.  In fact, there were eight choirs!  Cherub - 3-5 year old, Bethlehem - 1st & 2nd grade, Carol - 3rd & 4th grade, Gloria - 5th & 6th grade, Cecilia - 7th & 8th grade girls, Boys 7th & 8th grade, Chapel - High School, and the Wesleyan Choir which was the adult choir.

Here are some pictures of the choirs.  Thanks, Ann Luppens Laney for sharing your family's pictures.

I think this is the Bethlehem Choir.  Sharon Luppens Harris
is on the far right, top row.

 

I think this is the Carol Choir.  Ann Luppens is 7th from the left, front row.
Pam Hostetter is 10th from the left, and I think her cousin, Kay Kern is
to the right of Pam.

Boys' Choir

Mary Anderson was the backbone who inspired so many children and young people to be part of this music program.  She instilled high expectations, discipline and a love of music in her students.  This is a typical weekend for a high school Chapel Choir member:  Saturday morning: 8:00 am- 12:00 was girls' sectionals. Altos the first hour, Sopranos the second hour, Altos and Sopranos together and then individuals the last hour.  Yes, she worked individually with each of us to improve our voices.  The boys had their sectionals before choir practice (I think...not sure how long).  On Sunday at 8:30 am we had practice before the 9:00 service.  We sang every Sunday at the first service.  Sunday afternoon at 5:00 was our regular practice.  After practice we would have a dinner (made by our parents) and then we would have MYF (youth group).  It was wonderful.

I never felt like I HAD to do this....I felt excited to go to practice and sectionals. We must have all felt this way.  A few of the attendees at our reunion told the story of the Prom conflict.  Prom was on a Saturday.  It was going to be a late night.  Mrs. Anderson told the choir that she still expected them in the choir room at 8:30 sharp.  Some of the choir members feared they might sleep in, so sneaked through an open window at the church and spent the night there so as not to miss choir on Sunday morning.

Monroe Street United Methodist Chapel Choir...not sure of the date...early 1960s is my guess.

 Mary not only challenged us with difficult music...she expected us to learn it...she had faith that we would meet the challenge.  She arranged through the Choir Guild to send a number of high school students (each summer) to Choir Camp at Westminster Choir College in New Jersey.  How excited I was when I was chosen to go!  Those of us who went to choir camp were then expected to help with the younger choirs.  That was another way that Mary strengthened the choir program. 

This is when I was in the choir.  We travelled to Norway, Sweden, Denmark, The Netherlands and England in 1968.
We even had someone in charge of our choir robes.  I am glad that was not my job!

So, it is not surprising that so many return for our Chapel Choir Reunions.  We all share the love of music.  We all have Mary stories.  This is my story.  My words tell only a tiny bit of what I learned from Mrs. Anderson.  One thing I remember most is that she never gave up on any of us.  She would not allow anyone to say that he could not sing.  In her eyes...or should I say ears...everyone had a song to sing.  And so we meet again, to sing our songs in honor of our teacher, coach, mentor and friend, Mrs. Mary Anderson.

Here is one of the songs we sang, "Lord, Make Me and Instrument".  The words are from the Prayer of St. Francis. I wondered how the voices of our aging choir would sound...we were no longer young high school students singing.  We had all been members of the choir from between 1956-1975.  Most of us are in our 60s-70s....some older, and we had only two hours of practice to prepare six songs.  We were fortunate to have Bette Bodley Chambless, a member of the Chapel Choir from the early 60s, direct us.  I think of her as a gentle Mary Anderson.  I think we all felt Mary's spirit join us as we  lifted our voices in song.