28 June 2004

If the Church Walls Could Talk

The ancient Hadleigh United Reformed Church (http://www.hadleighurc.org.uk), built in the Georgian style in 1832, sits square in the middle of the town. It isn't as old as Hadleigh's first church, St. Mary's Anglican (1,000 years old and Anglo Saxon), but if the church walls could talk they would have a lot to tell.

Those walls would tell of a history that began in 1767 when these rebels broke away from the Anglicans. There would be stories of all those rich and poor families who paid a tax so the church could succeed.

And after last weekend they would tell the story of the semi-annual St. Mary's School music recital, and how great Cat looked in her little navy blue skirt and sweater with her best white blouse. They would also mention Cat's blond, newly curled hair, and her little pearl earrings and necklace.

I had tears in my eyes as we entered the church. Going to a violin recital is not normally an emotional experience for most folks, but I couldn't help feeling overjoyed at the opportunity to watch Cat play at her first recital. After all, this has cost what seems like thousands of dollars, countless hours of my time and taught me a couple of new cuss words.

All Jay could think about was how long it was going to take for all those 24 musicians to perform, which he promptly counted when the little boy handed him the program as we entered the church. I, however, planned to enjoy every single minute, even if it was freezing cold, and those hard wooden pews ... well, what can I say about hard wooden pews that hasn't been said before?

Cat looked so poised as she sat in the front pew waiting her turn. She was definitely more cool, calm and collected than the teacher, whom is actually an angel visiting among us. However, angels have their faults and hers is disorganization. She keeps each student's music in different locations so that as they come to the front of the church she is scurrying around looking through her briefcase or on the piano for the music.

When it was Cat's turn she calmly walked up to the stand and placed her music where she could see it. She nodded to the teacher, and before my face could start hurting from smiling so wide it was over and we were all clapping as if we'd just heard the music of a famous violinist. Cat smiled at us as she sat down and tears came to my eyes again. I kept seeing that little tiny baby whom we'd willed, on more than one occasion, to survive ... and here she was making the violin sound so beautiful.

At the end of the recital an old man stepped forward to play his violin. The music, near as I could tell, was a gypsy-sounding song. Every few notes he seemed to play in another key, all of them off tune.

At the beginning of the man's song I listened respectfully until the thought popped into my head, "That's a Bug's Bunny song." I leaned over to whisper this to Jay just as the guy hit a high screechy note. I grabbed my mouth like I was going to cough. Then I thought of what I had just tried to whisper to Jay and had to bend down like I was picking up something out of my handbag.

Without my hand over my mouth I would have laughed right out loud. Then the tears flowed down my checks and I started shaking from laughing so hard with my mouth covered. To make matters worse the guy screeched even louder.

Boy, if those walls could talk I bet they've seen quite a few of those recitals, and people like me making a fool of myself by pretending not to laugh. I am sorry to say that even today the thought of that man's violin playing makes me laugh right out loud. My mother would be proud.

Annie Warmke lives in Hadleigh, England. She writes a weekly column on life in a small town. Someday in the not too distant future she intends to return to live at her farm near Philo, but for the time being she is a world citizen making friends in small towns wherever she goes. You can contact her at http://www.bluerockstation.com.