Way back in my late 40s, in a fit of insanity, I joined an Acapella choir. I say insanity because firstly I am not a great singer, not bad, just not great. A voice good enough for nursery rhymes for the children, good enough to accompany the radio in the solitude of the car. Insane because I do not, never have enjoyed close proximity to other people. Crowds I avoid like the plague. Crowded transport I cannot do.
So I joined a choir!?
Nah just a whim:)
I enjoyed it tremendously.
So after we moved to another part of the country I immediately looked around for another choir to join, with no immediate luck, they were all for great singers, with auditions and sheet music to read.
Ah well there was always the radio to sing along with.
In the meantime we were exploring some family history links within the county. I had traced my mother’s branch of the family to a small town about 30 miles away, where her great grandfather,grandfather and father had lived before moving to Wales.
We would go, I declared and see if the houses still stood. I had discovered through my searches that this great, great, grandfather of mine was a big noise in the town in his day. Alderman, Editor of the newspaper and twice Mayor, and a finger in many pies. His family were up there at the top of rural social circles.
How the mighty have fallen:)
We wandered around and found both houses I had tracked down and the church they attended and got married in. Then popped into the art centre for local info, a cup of tea and sticky bun.
I found my choir while sitting there.
In this town was a small choir just like the one I had just left. Meeting once a week at the arts centre. Not quite local, however doable in roughly 50 minutes, not impossible. I signed up and settled down to singing again.
One term, as the numbers in the choir reached high levels, we changed the room we met in and began to use the larger ‘ballroom’.
Now I had the connection of well over a hundred years.
This was the self same room those high flying ancestors of mine would have danced in, on glittering ballroom occasions, and here I was singing where they danced.
I had never met my grandfather, Mum’s father, he died when I was a baby, but I have stood outside the house he was born in and the one his father was born in, and sang in the ballroom his grandfather danced in, 174 years ago.
I do like connections through time.