My grandmother wasn't the sweetest woman who walked this earth, but she played the piano beautifully. One of my earliest memories is gathering around as she played from the latest sheet music, she most likely picked up on one of her frequent visits to the city. There were all sorts of children's songs, just for us. I remember marching round and round with soldier hats made of newspaper.
When summer came we were stuffed into the car, between piles of this and that, needed for cottage living.What was no distance at all could seem, never-ending. The car had hardly started, before we began singing the silly songs we loved. My mother and my aunt had a children's camp, before we were born. They could sing song after song, to anywhere and back. Time didn't exist.
There was an appreciation of music of all sorts around me.
Miss Raymor came from Box Grove, to give us piano lessons, when I was quite small. Even though I tried, I was hopeless. I don't think my lessons lasted long.
When we moved to the city, an aunt gave us her piano. My teacher, Court Stone, was a composer of some sort. His house was dark. The windows were draped in thick, plum coloured, velvet curtains. Busts of long gone musicians sat on every available spot. I don't remember whether there were four or five grand pianos, but they were all put to good use at his musical gatherings. It was so difficult to sit still in uncomfortable clothes in the stuffy air, as his music played on. The birds outside the windows had a merry time with their music.
In the spring, the Toronto Board of Education annually presented a concert of public school students, in Massey Hall, The May Festival. I never knew why I was one of the children chosen to be in a mass choir, made up of children from all schools across the city. I always thought it was because I wasn't afraid to take the subway, to the practices downtown. Looking back, I think many of the Jewish children, some of whom were impressively talented, would come from families, that would be uncomfortable with the distinctly Christian hymns that made up a significant part of the programme.
There was a thrill of singing with so many other children in such a space.
I went to a high school that held a Carol Service at Christmas and choral presentation at Eaton Auditorium for the Graduation and Closing Ceremony. The whole school filled the stage. We sang as one. Preparations for this event were taken very seriously. We had to learn all the words, with punctuation, for an exam before the event. Those songs still every so often pop into my head.
Camp songs are camp songs and I spent many of my summers at camp. Flag raisings, meals, campfires, canoe trips, bedtimes were some of the occasions, that called for songs.
University days took place in the late sixties. There were hootenannies, here, there and everywhere, especially, if your companion took a guitar with him most places we went.
In time, there was much singing with my wee babes, until they grew old enough to be embarrassed. Lullabies remain my favourite. Grand babies have offered me those times again.
Most of the time the songs sung now are with me and my big old mutt, who has a deep contralto voice, when he chooses to join in.
Several years ago, I joined a choir on the mountain for singers of all abilities. As the choir has expanded the number of people with musical training has remarkably increased. It was fun singing the old Nova Scotian folk songs and we weren't half bad. I don't think it will be long until my dyslexic self will disappear, as I know at this age, my ability to attach so many squiggles on the pages, to a joy in singing is limited.
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