Finding Family in France

Confession: I’m a choir geek.

I grew up on Solfege and considered sight-reading to be a fun afternoon activity. Most of my high school career was spent with my nose in a music score of one kind or another.

Professional choristers have no qualms about wearing all-black formal attire in any situation.

Professional choristers have no qualms about wearing all-black formal attire in any situation. The vast majority of my wardrobe is still entirely black.

For me, choir is home. I knew I would hate to go a year without music, so I set to work finding an ensemble as soon as possible when I landed in Normandy. More important than practicing the music itself, though, are the connections that are built out of that work. That’s why I’m so overwhelmed by the outpouring of love from the wonderful community choir I’ve worked with this year. On my first night at rehearsal, one of the ladies volunteered to carpool my car-less fellow assistants and me to rehearsal every week, and Annie has since become a great friend and one of the main reasons for my weight gain. Several members have invited us to the movies, fishing, to family meals. They were sweet enough to organize a little end-of-the-year party for us just before the other two assistants left France. 

These choir members, mostly retirees, have become like extra grandparents for me in a time when I really miss my “real” family. Yes, it’s cheesy, but music truly does seem to bring people together in a way that nothing else can. We spend our not-so-professional rehearsals giggling through difficult German pronunciations and kissing each other on each cheek. We seem to spend just as much time at our concert after-parties as at the concerts themselves. And, boy, can those retirees party! I’m usually the first to conk out at evenings where I’m the youngest attendee by 35 years.

No, it’s not the most talented choir I’ve ever been in, and lord, do we have vowel issues. But spending entire evenings talking about music and memories makes it a blast. I love chatting with my altos and sidling up to the warbling tenors. Sometimes I feel far more at ease with these people of “a certain age” than those of my own generation, and at these rehearsals, I’m allowed to be my hyperactive, happy self.

These wonderfully welcoming people, and the music we’ve made together, have been a highlight of my year.

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