|
|
|
|
HOLLENBECK: There’s within my heart a meloody |
|
|
Tuesday, 27 May 2008 |
I started hearing about Old Folks’ Singing at Tull shortly after moving to this community more than 30 years ago. “You’ve just got to come, Lynda,” one would say. “We have the best time,” from another. “Why don’t you ever come?” from more than one.
Friend DeAnne, who grew up in Tull but who’s lived in more than one state outside Arkansas, would move heaven and earth to get to Old Folks’ Singing. If she’s ever missed one, I don’t know it.
The reason I never attended before has been the same most of the years: I always have obligations on Sunday, even on that hallowed third Sunday in May. But this year, I decided it was now or never. This thing has been going on for 123 years, so it’s stood the test of time.
I begged for a substitute pianist. I mean, literally BEGGED, which I have done before, but this time I found a sympathetic soul. And so Ed and I went to Tull .
To cut to the chase, I’ll say right off that my spouse and I had a delightful time, first from the singing itself, which is really good, and also from the reconnections we made with friends out of the past.
We learned that there are sacred rules about Old Folks’ Singing. This isn’t the place where you do just what you want. There’s a plan, and sisters and brothers, you’d better follow it or you’ll get stomped. If you’re newcomers, as Ed and I were, you may find yourself confused. (EVERYONE else knew how to play the game.)
Wilson DuVall was the master of ceremonies for this event — and he’s good at it. He keeps things zipping along.
The afternoon session includes singing from the Cokesbury hymnal, which I grew up with at night services at the Cotton Plant Methodist Church, but the morning session includes no songs other than those included in the “Christian Harmony” songbook. That’s like looking at a foreign document to me. I’ve been playing the piano since I was 6 years old and have never stopped, so I do know a little bit about music, both instrumental and vocal. But don’t EVER put shaped notes in front of me. They’re scary.
When I opened the book to the first song to be sung, I couldn’t figure out where the people were getting the melody. I looked at the normal place where you find the tune and it certainly wasn’t what they were singing, yet they were all in sync. Janie Wilmoth, who’s been attending these events for more than 20 years and for a time sat behind us, did her best to enlighten me. “You go to the third line to get the melody, Lynda,” she said.
That makes absolutely no sense to me, but I started watching that line while listening to the voices and determined that, yes, that is what they’re singing, but for the life of me I don’t know why. If you ask anyone, they just tell you, “That’s the way we’ve always done it.”
That’s pretty much the setup for Old Folks’ Singing. Everything is done “the way we’ve always done it.”
Once they get past a few introductory acts, they get serious about singing. There was no explanation as to how anyone is chosen to lead a song or what song he or she should lead. Wilson would call out the names of those who would be next in line to be the songleader.
If somebody had already picked out the song that individual had planned to lead, it didn’t matter. They just sang it again and nobody cared. It was just livelier and louder the second time around.
Most of the leaders would call on somebody else – or maybe several somebodies — to assist them, but there’s no down time. Wilson would say the leader’s name, then that person would announce who would be helping him or her, give the page number of the song and whoever was at the piano would start playing. There’s a little banter, but not much.
Things hadn’t been going on long before Wilson announced that Lynda Hollenbeck would be leading a song following a couple of others he also named. That got my attention because you must remember that in spite of Janie’s explanation, I was still searching for the melody line. Friend DeAnne, who was singing in the choir, read my face and mouthed “Just sing ‘Amazing Grace.’”
That sounded OK, but when I looked at “Amazing Grace” in that hymnbook, it didn’t look anything like the “Amazing Grace” I’ve sung all my life. But there was no graceful way to back out.
When my turn came, I took my place at the front of the church and silently prayed “Thank you, Lord, for Janie,” who began playing “Amazing Grace” the way I’ve always heard it — which had already been sung ahead of me, but repetition is no sin in Tull. We sang it again.
During the dinner on the grounds — which is an amazing thing in itself since the food was spread out over 100 feet of tables — Laura Carlisle walked up to me and said: “I’ve been coming to these singings for 32 years and no one has ever asked me to lead a song.”
Ed, a man of few words, looked at me and said: “You’ve been accepted.”
Lynda Hollenbeck is associate editor of the Courier.
This e-mail address is being protected from spam bots, you need JavaScript enabled to view it
or
This e-mail address is being protected from spam bots, you need JavaScript enabled to view it
|
|
|
|
Razorbacks