She said we should imagine standing on the shoulders of our ancestors.
Our song will call them to this acoustically majestic space.
Voices ring and soar against the high rounded ceiling.
The room fills with music.
What does she mean ancestors?
She offers examples for those of limited emotional creativity, like myself.
I quickly think of my grandmother who has gone beyond.
I feel her with me, not often, but from time to time.
Our bond was treasured by both of us
In an unspoken, yet knowing way.
She would love to hear me sing this music.
She would bless and cherish me, she always did.
I think of my famous ancestors who came here on the Mayflower.
Miles Standish, William Bradford....would they care for me
To call them to this musical space?
I think of my father's nanny, Johanna.
I was almost her namesake.
She is not a relation, but my father carries her in his past,
Does this qualify as ancestral?
I ponder my two grandfathers and my father's mother
Who passed before I was born to this world,
Or soon after.
Are they there watching me, my unknown angels?
Would they like to be called by the music?
Would they offer me their shoulders?
And what of my sweet cousin,
Who passed on so young, before he reached double digits?
Are his shoulders broad enough to hold me?
Would he revel in this ancestral role?
My two dearly beloved dogs, Tavi and Abbie.
The pups I held, trained, walked, nurtured, loved, and lost.
Surely they would come to the music, or to anything joyful.
They would do most anything for me.
Welcome my ancestors, my angels.
Thank you for the support, the lift you offer me.
Enjoy my song and let me feel the guidance of your spirits.