This is my one hundredth post. When I started this blog a little over six months ago, I think I planned to write every day, which would have brought us to one hundred much sooner, but it really works to write every two to four days. It is a delight to have you along with me, dear readers. The "Choral Evensong" surge has died down a bit and I am back to a slow and steady crowd of you, but it's always interesting to see readers cropping up in unexpected countries as the weeks progress.
There was news this last week or so that the number of single adult women in America has exceeded the number of married adult women for the first time. Not having too many 20- or 30-something friends, this came as a surprise to me, since the vast majority of my 60-something friends are married. I am glad that younger women can really envision and try all life possibilities. Still, single at 60 may always be a bit surreal, especially when you have no children or grandchildren. The traditional way of being glued to the world and to posterity doesn't apply. We single women are pioneers in carving out a new way of influencing the future.
I felt like a proud mama or grandma this week, though. Over social media, I saw evidence of more and more opportunities in the UK for young girls to sing in cathedral and college chapel choirs. What would have been inconceivable fifty years ago may not yet be the norm, but it's getting there. When I see a photo of one of these girls' choirs, or hear them as I have at the St. Thomas (NY) Girls Choir Course or at Ely Cathedral, my heart almost bursts with pride. These girls are my daughters, my granddaughters. And, in a sense, they are me.
Last night, my inner chorister came out, as I listened to a YouTube recording of the dramatic Langlais Messe Solonnelle with the amazing Marie Claire Alain at the organ. Well, listened isn't quite the right word. I sang along to multiple voice parts and even the organ, pounding out the pedal parts with my feet on the floor, trying to be almost a one woman choir and cathedral organ. There was a time when it might have made me quite sad that, once again, I was listening to recordings from afar, and not a central actor. But do you know what? That's over. How many women know that piece by heart, never having sung it? How many women are presumptuous enough to have spent fifty years singing along to recordings of the best choirs in the world? I was a happy woman. If I carved out a real singing niche for even one more young girl by doing it, or just sent a few joyous energies out into the Universe, then I am even happier. And hey, if there is one man on this planet who wouldn't find this "weird," who could burst with pride over me, then even I might change my mind about staying single. (This being a new stretch of river and all...!)
Have a good week, everyone.
