21 December 2003

O Holy Night

My mother seemed to never stop singing. As a child I would sit in the living room and read, or draw, or color, and mom would vacuum or cook or clean, singing all the time. She had the most angelic voice, perfect pitch, amazing control and the sweetness of a first soprano. She sang show tunes, sometimes threw in a Beatles or Barbra Streisand number. Most often, though, she sang songs from her days in the choir, when she was the choirmaster�s pet, loved Montgomery Clift and looked like Grace Kelly.

When I was a child the Christmas season meant loads of cheesy decorations, traipsing through the woods to cut down a tree, the smell of baking cookies. Most of all what Christmas meant was music: dragging the records out from the closet and plopping them next to the Sears record player. We had six or seven holiday records, some instrumental, one was Perry Como, and a few were of the �pop hits� variety. One, though, had a picture of an evergreen tree on the front, complete with some colored lights and ornaments, and that one was my favorite. My favorite Christmas song was on there, and I loved hearing my mother�s gentle voice sing it. I�d put the record on the player, watch it drop down onto the turntable and wait for my mother to start singing along to the instrumental version of, �O Holy Night�

O HOLY NIGHT (Traditional)
O holy night
The stars are brightly shining
It is the night of our dear Saviour's birth
Long lay the world in sin and error pining
Till He appeared and the soul felt its worth
A thrill of hope the weary world rejoices
For yonder breaks a new and glorious morn
Fall on your knees
Oh, hear the angel voices
O night divine
Oh, the night when Christ was born
O night divine
Oh, night
Oh night divine

Truly He taught us to love one another
His law is love and His gospel is peace
Chains he shall break, for the slave is our brother
And in His name all oppression shall cease
Sweet hymns of joy in grateful chorus raise we
With all within hearts we praise His holy name
Christ (Christ) is the Lord
Then ever, ever praise we

Noel
Noel
Oh night, o night divine
Noel
Noel
Oh night, o night divine
Noel
Noel
Ooh, ooh holy night

Mom always hit that last �Noel� with such feeling. Usually she would cry. I would, too.

I remember the first time I was deemed old enough to go to midnight Mass on Christmas Eve. I was 14. Mom, dad and I slid into a pew in the back (Peter was long since out of the house) and I looked at my �program� of sorts to see what we�d be singing that evening.�O Holy Night� was on the list. I was overjoyed to get to sing my favorite Christmas song with my mother instead of just listening. I sang quietly along with the choir and congregation so I could feel the experience, soaking in my mother�s voice. I remember sitting in between my parents � mom�s voice as pure as could be, dad sitting quietly. I was just absorbed by the sound. I started to cry. My mother cried along with me. What I could not have understood then, and what I only came to know later, was that her tears meant so much more.

Mom gave up what would likely have been a successful career in music to be a wife and mother. She turned down many an opportunity to share her voice with the world because her family was too poor to send her to school in New York. Perhaps she never realized how talented she was. She settled into her simple life, marrying and caring for family. In the process she had two children with whom to share her passion and talent. My brother and I both love music and the arts. Peter and I can carry a tune without making anyone�s ears bleed, though we cannot hold a candle to mom�s voice.

Today I am the one singing while I vacuum and do housework, as I drive to work and while I sit alone at my desk. Every year I look forward to Christmas and hearing my mom�s beautiful voice singing carols and hymns. Every year I hope that �O Holy Night� is on the menu at midnight Mass. Every year it is, and every year mom and I cry and make a joyful noise.

My mother turned 71 last week. Happy Birthday, Mama. You amaze me.

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