Posted on April 3, 2013 under Storytelling with 2 comments

Easter is over.  Another successful egg hunt with the grandchildren has concluded and the Easter bonnets are back in their boxes.  And the choir master is already thinking about the next major engagement – the opening mass for the Highland Games.  He is known by many names; James, Jimmy and affectionately the “mortician musician”. To those who know him best he is called friend.  A man of staggering talent, an imposing figure and musical genius; he is, simply put, “the master”.

Many years ago a Russian hockey team was touring the province and James was asked to sing both National anthems prior to the opening faceoff.  Any Canada/ Russia hockey game is filled with emotion but even before the puck dropped, the always stoic and stern faced Russian players appeared misty eyed as James flawlessly performed the Russian national anthem, in Russian.  He has performed for the Pope and for royalty but is most comfortable seated at the pipe organ at the cathedral – unless of course you can cajole him to join you at a house party equipped with a piano.

Many in our community, upon facing the end of life’s journey, have requested that James sing at their funeral.  He has sung at hundreds, probably thousands of funerals over his long tenure as organist and choir director at the cathedral.  Many of these occasions are tragic and just as many are celebrations, none more so than for a war veteran.  To hear his spine tingling rendition of “The Battle’s O’er” is as close to paradise as I may come in this lifetime.  For those of us needing a little boost heavenward at the end, having James sing at our funeral gives credence to the old saw “ hope springs eternal”.  I definitely want James on my side when my time comes.  I will take all the help I can get.

Besides funerals and weddings, James has been a fixture at concerts, ceilidhs and variety shows for well over fifty years.  He has enriched thousands of church services including many multi faith gatherings. Hearing his towering voice on stage, on a warm summer’s evening at the “Concert under the Stars” at the Highland Games, inspires awe.

But nowhere is he more comfortable than in front of the pipe organ at St. Ninian’s.  He filled some mighty big shoes after the tenure of Mrs. W.J. ended.  Watching him, as I have done for years, ad-libbing magnificent pieces of organ music with hands and feet working in perfect synchronicity, is something to behold.  And when his beloved choir hits all the right notes, in perfect harmony, you can see the utter joy in his face.  Ecstasy.

He is truly a man for all seasons.  A man of great faith, his unstinting loyalty to his church and his community are unparalleled.  He is one of us.  He could have pursued the bright lights of the big city to ply his talents but he chose us, which has made us all the richer.

Posted on April 3, 2013 under Storytelling with no comments yet

A little later today, I will be posting a story that appears in this week’s edition of The Casket. This is a serious piece and is a tribute to a local musical legend. Those of you who live in Antigonish or who grew up here are well aware of the staggering talent of this person. Even if you’re not from here, I think you will enjoy reading this.

Posted on April 2, 2013 under Storytelling with no comments yet

The wake is very much an East Coast tradition and is the ultimate gathering spot for small communities. When the deceased is well known and comes from a large extended family, the crowds at the wake can be very large. The only other place that can attract lines as long as at a wake is the drive-through at Tim Horton’s. At a recent wake, the lineup was so large that the funeral home had to reconfigure the room to accommodate the throngs. It was serpentine in shape and forced you to pass the same people more than once. I overheard one gentleman comment; “I haven’t seen you in ten years and now I’ve seen you twice in the last 20 minutes”. What makes an East Coast wake special is the preponderance of hugging which has caused me to ponder this phenomenon. What is the anatomy of a hug?
I have become an observer of hugging over the years, so much so that I think I will apply for a government grant to analyze it further. Let’s face it; there have been grants for stranger things.
The ultimate place to witness hugs is at the arrivals area of an airport. No matter how hard most airports and airlines have tried to spoil the experience of travelling, they cannot take away the inherent warmth of the arrivals area. It is the definition of anticipation. You always see people holding up signs. Some are professional in nature for business travellers, conference attendees or foreign travellers. Much more charming are those handmade signs clutched by small children waiting for a military parent returning home from duty in some far off place or for grandma and grandpa coming for a visit.
Most reunions are joyful but sadly, some are deeply emotional when family members have been wrenched from their daily routines to return home for the funeral of a loved one.
What is it about a hug? What makes it so warm and so heartfelt? A kiss is more intimate and private. Just try telling that to the first girl I tried to kiss. I remember it vividly. I’m sure she forgot it within nanoseconds as being a truly unremarkable experience. She probably guessed (correctly) that she was my first victim. Sort of like kissing a relative that you can barely tolerate.
A hug is different. It is universal. It knows no language, it doesn’t have a color and it doesn’t bear a political stripe. It does not judge on the basis of race, religion or creed and it doesn’t care how smart you are or how wealthy you are. It doesn’t care about body image.
Although it has no language, a hug speaks volumes. “I’m so sorry.” “I love you.” “I missed you”. “It’s so great to see you”.
So the next time the airlines lose your luggage and you’re ready to scream, take a few minutes and walk to the arrival area. The best entertainment you can get, sure to put a smile on your face, is the hugging section.