Such en evocative juxtaposition of terms — wanting memories. To “want” is to desire, to wish for — implying the future. ”Memories” are by definition in the past. So you stood in the present as you sang, desiring to create memories. I am not one disposed to using the “A-word” very much — awesome — however, our recently completed Concordia Choir tour to the Pacific Northwest and Hawaii was indeed in many ways both awesome and awe-inspiring. It is still a rich tapestry of experiences that has yet to be fully explored and re-played in mind own mind’s eye. Of course, our lens into the world of choir tour, as always, focused on the journey of making music together — the search for excellence, the experience of aesthetic communication, the discipline of consistent achievement — all of these features of the goals and mission of the Concordia Choir were first and foremost, and in those terms, I as the conductor of the Choir was very pleased with the consistent level of performance — and search for growth — displayed by the 2008-2009 Concordia Choir.
But that is only part of the story.
If it is true as Stephen Sondheim says, “If life were only moments, how would you ever know you had one?”, we were indeed privileged to experience moment after moment of extraordinary beauty — and beauty defined a number of ways. Of course, the sheer physical beauty of seeing Mt. Hood in full glory in Seattle (a not-so-common experience, even for those who live in Seattle) was a living-color reminder of majestic wonder inspired by the world of creation. And of course, the tropical beauty of the Hawaiian islands, with their lush colors , dense green foliage, and warm temperatures create in our experience an even more vivid expression in contrast to the cold temperatures and back and white colors of Minnesota in winter.
But even that is only part of the story.
It is the human exchanges that will live on in my memory. From elementary age children to adults dancing their native hula, to both joyful and teary-eyed audience members who completed the circle of communication with the Choir during our concerts, to moving accounts of the traditions and history of the Hawaiian people, to watching a group of expressive and gifted young dancers interpret before our eyes, the meaning of the text we sang during No Ka Beauty, to the wizened, lined faces of older Hawaiians who still communicated to you young people with their ancient chants and native language, to the packed house at the cathedral in Honolulu and the electricity that was in the air — a feeling that you never never buy, to walking up the stairs in the Jurassic Park like gardens of of the foothills of Maui (”Climb the steps, Jim — you must climb the steps of Mt. Seleya” — sorry, a small offering to Star Trek fans) — these and more, are the layers of memories I take with me. The personal stories of the Concordia Choir members are I’m sure eclectic and polychromatic — as varied as the same but yet ever-different rhythm of the sea. Some experienced the moving witness of the sunken battleships — the Arizona and the Missouri — and I’m sure, and maybe for the first time, knew and felt the sacrifice so many thousand American sailors made for their country. Others were able to witness the nearly unbelievable spectacle of a whale giving birth in the ocean, and swimming next to huge sea turtles.
And our final evening together on the beach of Maui, beginning with the prayers and ceremonies of the Hawaiian people, progressing into a magnificent feast prepared by Choir members for Choir members, and in typical Concordia Choir fashion, our “News, Weather, Sports” — and all the rest of the evening entertainment provided by first-year members, and punctuated by our Choir President and Student Manager in Hawaiian skirts and coconut shells — -this all had a warm glow about it; the generosity of the Aloha spirit, the lubrication of the spirit that grows out of laughter and joy, surrounded by love.
And to top it off, a wonderful Home Concert where I sensed you were all “in the zone” — that enviable place between the head and the heart where magic happens.
Thank you for those memories — mahalo and may Aloha Memories be yours.
Dr. Clausen