Choir Robes
Our family belonged to the First Covenant Church in Greeley. Every time the doors opened we were there to support and participate in the activities. Sunday, of course, was the biggest day for church.
My Grandparents, Anna and Carl Swanson, were charter members of this church. It started in a different building than the one I became familiar with. Anna and Carl had probably helped build that first church through sweat and economic contributions. I can just see the men planning and working together. Mostly church members were farmers toiling in the fields to raise crops then milk the cows and gather eggs from the chickens. This was a daily job that takes the computer jocks of today to task when they refer to a team managing customer service 24/7. Farmers were on call to operate their farming operation 24/7 with no backup support except their family. Still they believed in the freedom to worship that this country gives to all its citizens. Together they took precious hours from their farming to come together to build a church. Not just the hammer and nails it took to build the frame and lay the bricks, but building a community of friends and relatives with similar values and beliefs.
The First Covenant Church was connected to the main church in Minnesota. During my Grandparents day the church included mostly Swedish folks. The services were in Swedish as was the singing. I found an old Bible from my Grandmother that was in Swedish. The leather cover was soft with wear as were the pages that were thumbed through over time from hours of reading her favorite Bible verses. My dad, Harold, grew up speaking Swedish at home and at church. He learned English and in school and other public places, he and his brother, Clarence would always speak English. Grandma had a thick Swedish brogue when she spoke English. It was music to our ears to hear her talk. Grandpa spoke clear English as he was in the business world selling and buying cattle and meeting with people of all nationalities. It must have been a challenge for my Mom when she married my Dad to acclimate to the Swedish chat between family members at family gatherings. Still we always said grace before every meal in Swedish.
When we cleaned out some of Mom’s stuff in an old barn I found a wooden orange crate full of dusty song books from the first church. They were only an half an inch thick compared to the two inch variety that the next church used. But the songs were the same melodies with some variation of titles or words. The hymn book was in English, but had many verses in Swedish. I thought some day I would take a book apart and frame some of the songs. They would be interesting on a wall in a music room above the piano.
Maybe people don’t have pianos anymore, just keyboards and drum sets along with stacks of CD. Now the young folks have thousands of songs loaded into an Ipod or MP3 player no bigger than a credit card always on – always connected to ear buds hanging from their ears. A shame really that they will miss the opportunity I grew up with to hear music live played from my sister’s fingers stroking the piano keys. Miss a note or not it was delightful to sit next to her on the piano bench and watch her play. If we knew the song my brother and mother might stand behind the piano for a brief verse or two to sing along.
My dad was a good singer. He must have been a baritone. He didn’t sing high tenor notes like Don Lindstrom or really low bass like my brother Alan. Just clear and heart felt. When he was younger for years he sang every Sunday in the choir with my Mom and the rest of the friends and relatives at the church who could carry a tune. Alan found a 78 vinyl recording of dad singing a solo with the choir that Alan had transcribed to a cassette. Now we are into CDs and digital recordings. I have misplaced that short piece of music with my dad’s voice resonating in joy of life to the congregation. Maybe I’ll find it and listen once more.
My mom sang in the middle range too about the same place that I can carry a tune. There were strong singers in the choir. One big soprano voice came were from my Aunt Marion, Marlyss’ mother. Not really my Aunt, but we all called her that as she married my Aunt Ruth’s brother Rodney Johnson. Aunt Marion could take a deep breath with those big old lungs and hit the high notes as clear as a beautiful crystal glass. From time to time Aunt Marion and Uncle Rodney would sing duets. She was always the power house. Vivian Swanson, my second cousin, had a champion soprano voice too. The kind of voice that makes you stop for a minute just to hear her sing.
My Aunt Ruth and Marlyss (Miki) had low alto voices that carried the harmony on Sunday mornings. My second cousin, Ray Duell had a really strong baritone voice and was asked many times to sing songs such as “Our Father, who art in Heaven” and at Christmas time “Oh Holy Night”. Breathtaking really.
One thing about our church was that we sang praises loudly and with vigor. When I married Stan we went to the Catholic Church from time to time. They are timid singers. The songs were not familiar as the ones I grew up singing week after week. Churches were bigger; there was a choir, but not the rejoicing that you find in the strain of church when I grew up. I went to a mega church with my sister-in-law Irene when visiting in Albuquerque. They really sang and sang and sang until the place was a frenzy of voices shouting out at the words on the big screen up front. The First Covenant Church was somewhere between those two extremes in the singing department.
There was always something going on with the Ladies Aid group at church. They gathered for prayer meetings and to study the Bible one a week or so. Then they would sponsor projects to prepare food for church gatherings. There was a big old meeting room in the basement of the church with a large kitchen at the end. Women would bring food from home and people would line up to fill their plates of the best home-cooking from miles around. This of course was before women entered the workforce in earnest. They had their chores at home and helped feed the calves and chickens, then gave of time at the church. Funerals were not catered, but food was brought in by the women of the church to share with a grieving family and their friends. The Ladies aid reached out to the shut-ins making visits to cheer people up as well as visits to nursing homes to share some joy.
My Grandma was more of a worker then a social butterfly. I fit into that mold pretty well. Give me something to do and I’m happy. Let me chat up a storm with some friends and I’m fidgety. I leave that up to people like my sister who relishes in friendships. I spend time with my friends from work, but there is always a plan or goal to get something done. This week we are planning to decorate and fill Christmas stockings for needy children.
In the front of the church there was a large table and a tall velvet curtain. My Grandma had made some of these large drapes for the church. My Mom took over some of those sewing chores also. It seems they changed the drapes several times a year with the change of seasons; deep gold for spring and dark red for Christmas time. Mom was always busy sewing something for her family, teaching little girls to sew in 4-H and sewing something for the church. This included making choir robes and bows for the children’s choir.
Mrs. Osterberg was the minister’s wife who had responsibilities at the church longer than your arm. She had two daughters, Janet – who was my age and Anne who was a couple years younger. Mrs. Osterberg gathered all the little children from about age 5 – 15 to sing in her children’s choir. The kids had one choir loft on the right side of the front of the church and the adults had the other choir loft on the left side. The kids meet every Saturday at the church to practice. Mrs. Osterberg taught us three part harmony and just beamed every Sunday when we sang our songs on Sunday morning. There were probably about 20 kids or so singing and fidgeting during the sermon up front of the church.
I must have learned production projects from my Mom. She sewed up a bunch of those choir robes. They were out of heavy crème colored fabric with a yoke and gathers in a variety of sizes to fit all the kids. At the neck was a big old crispy satin bow. These were also made by Frances and her friends from the Ladies Aid. Each Sunday the kids would gather after Sunday school behind in the crowded room behind the alter to put on our choir robes and have the bows tied. The bows were bright red for Christmas and gold or light teal blue for the rest of the year. My mom was in charge of making sure all the kids got on their robes and had their bows tied and straight. Mrs. Osterberg was a good planner and worked collaboratively with the women of the church to get the maximum help she needed to get the job done. We looked cute as buttons and sang pretty well too.