Monday, May 28, 2012
by Kayleigh Koester, junior alto
This post marks the final day of our tour
in Wales and Ireland. I write this
in our Galway hotel, during what are literally the wee hours of the morn’ (we
load our coach at 3:30am) and our last hours of tour.
The past twenty-four hours have
encompassed a variety of experiences.
Today was a special day on tour, for many reasons: First, it was a free day! Now accustomed to itineraries and
structure, today was a day that was delightfully void of both. It was a day in which we were free to
lollygag and explore, adventure and delight. Second, today not only marks the end of a tour, but also the
end of our current community. This year has been an especially amazing one for
the Drake Choir and, therefore, these goodbyes are especially hard.
So unlike other days, there is no
itinerary from which I can relay the choir’s movements and experiences to
you. The most I can do is report
the sense of emotion and thoughtfulness that colored our final day.
In the Drake Choir, we spend a
significant amount of time discussing community. We understand that we make our best music when we feel
connected to one another. We also
understand that we “stand on the shoulders” of choirs who have come before us,
building our program upon the hard work and examples set by the past two
decades of Drake Choirs. However,
spending time in Ireland and Wales has completely altered my understanding of
time and the place that I occupy within it. In Ireland and
Wales, contemporary buildings stand within 50 feet of prehistoric, Roman, and
Medieval ruins. Many of the sacred
and civic spaces in use today predate our own country’s existence!
It is hard to explain the impact that ancient spaces have
upon one’s consciousness. Unlike
the United States—a comparatively young nation—daily activities in Ireland and
Wales incorporate near constant reminders of the region’s vast history. There is an understanding that the
contemporary age is only the most recent part of a larger, historical whole. It is a humbling feeling to acknowledge
the impact of ancient peoples upon contemporary spaces and it begs us to
reconsider our own place in the vast expanse of time.
Already considering these themes, we
approached today with a heightened understanding that today was our last day as
a community. Though the Drake
Choir tradition encompasses hundreds of singers, our Drake Choir—this Drake Choir— can only ever exist with these
sixty-four particular people. We
sang together for the last time tonight. As members of the choir, this is a challenging
realization. Not only must we say
goodbye to graduating and departing peers, but we must mourn the end of our
community.
So today everything we did had a sense of
cherishing our togetherness. I
think it is telling that very few of us chose to formally sightsee. Today wasn’t about seeing places and
things—as beautiful and interesting as they might be. Today was about being together. We sat along the river, feeding seagulls our left over “chips.” We rented bikes to ride through the
streets of Galway. We walked along
the Irish shore with our toes in the brisk water. We lay in the sun talking and laughing at the hilarious
happenings of our year together. On our free day, when we were finally given
all the choices in the world, we spent our time just being together.
When it finally came time for the
concert, the same feeling of togetherness continued. Well, except for the part where we started our tour prank
(singing Beethoven’s 9th instead of Os justi) in different tempos
and keys. That part wasn’t maybe
the best demonstration of our togetherness. But from the first
breath of the concert, there was a sense of togetherness. Not only among the sixty-four of us,
but with ABC, and with the audience.
This audience was particularly special to me. The parents who have traveled with us along the way, along
with our coach drivers were there, of course. They shared with us the bittersweet feeling of
finality. But next to them were
new friends, fellow travelers from America whose paths had crossed ours throughout
the tour, as well as choral specialists from the UK and Ireland. Their presence was a reminder that an
end is never truly final, that every performance is also a beginning and a new
opportunity to share music. Still
yet, there were strangers in the audience. People whose names we did not and may never know. Yet by the end of the night, they too
left a part of our community, bonded by our shared musical experiences.
The time after the concert was a jumble
of hugs, tears, laughter, and jokes.
For our graduating and departing members, the goodbyes were especially
poignant. But each of us grappled
with the realization that our beloved year of Drake Choir was over.
The Chamber Choir sings a beautiful piece called Over havet. It honors the biographical journey of a Norwegian man who immigrated to Iowa. The piece recounts his initial voyage across the sea, the harsh work facing him in the New World, and, eventually, the new life that results. As the man nears the end of his life and considers the entirety of his experiences, he proclaims “Thankful now as I go.” I have heard the piece countless times but that particular line has never struck me quite like it did tonight. Dan Forrest sets the text in repetitions that bounce among the voice parts until the chorus seems to be a multitude exclaiming its thanks. It seems to me the perfect metaphor for this tour. Along the way there have been moments of frustration and extreme joy, each of which seemed in the moment to be isolated incidents on our itinerary. But with the blessing of retrospect and reflection, they form an interconnected set of experiences that nourished and strengthened our community.
On Sunday, I looked over at one of my friends and said, “These
are going to be the moments we remember in the nursing home, won’t they?” He smiled. As we leave Ireland, I
can truly exclaim, “thankful now as I go!”
Here is the link to more PHOTOS from Monday, May 28th:
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