Weddings and the Perilous Journey Into My Early Childhood
And in this case, by "early childhood," I mean the summer before eighth grade. But let's take things in order, shall we.
One of my friends from high school/orchestra/etc. al. got married over the weekend. Having had most of the sentiment I came with beaten out of me by years of homework and neglect (mainly homework), I can best offer the organist's perspective. This could best be described as a "contemporary service wedding." There was minimal organ playing, and then not the usual Wagner and Mendelssohn. The defining moment of the afternoon was probably when bride and groom picked up violin and guitar, respectively, and led the singing. They intended for and achieved an actual celebration rather than the stereotypical ramrod-up-the-back service that I've become accustomed to. Put differently, it was THEIR wedding rather than what one would find if they were to turn to The Service of Holy Matrimony on Page (whatever page it is) of Lutheran Worship. (Edit: Actually, on further research, there is no Service of Holy Matrimony in Lutheran Worship. You're on your own, people.) That leaves two of my friends engaged, not to each other, and I know of a few others getting married as well. I, of course, missed the boat for the forseeable future.
Now for a little housekeeping. Not by any choice of my own, mind you, but my mom was kind enough to install a shelf in response to my ongoing complaining about lack of storage space, and well, long story short, she came to the conclusion that something was living in my pile of clutter. The pile in question is not the endless stash of paper I have on or near my desk, but a pile of odds and ends on the floor in the corner. Apparently not a good place for a pile. This was the stuff that I couldn't find room for when I moved into this room, call it, 6 years ago. And there it's sat. Occasionally I'd add to it or find a home for some of it, but it's more or less maintained its size. Cause I was scared of the pile. I established a long time ago that I didn't know what to do with it. But the new shelf changes things. Contents: two old bookbags with broken zippers (expendible); various cleaning supplies that came with my current violin (relocated); notebooks from various highschool classes where I actually had to take notes (I happened to flip open the political science one to the reading notes from the infamous Sept. 11. I vaguely remember the teacher saying that the entire class might be rendered irrelevant by the new political unity that arose that day. Turns out things are more the same than ever); and a variety of summer camp yearbooks, the earliest of which came from before eighth grade. This has all been deemed to have historic/nostalgic value and found a place on the shelf. So no more pile. I didn't find anything living there, either, but whatever.
Work continues. The parts that aren't proprietary really aren't that interesting, which is why these things are a bit more spaced out these days. 1 month to Organ Service I. Roughly.
One of my friends from high school/orchestra/etc. al. got married over the weekend. Having had most of the sentiment I came with beaten out of me by years of homework and neglect (mainly homework), I can best offer the organist's perspective. This could best be described as a "contemporary service wedding." There was minimal organ playing, and then not the usual Wagner and Mendelssohn. The defining moment of the afternoon was probably when bride and groom picked up violin and guitar, respectively, and led the singing. They intended for and achieved an actual celebration rather than the stereotypical ramrod-up-the-back service that I've become accustomed to. Put differently, it was THEIR wedding rather than what one would find if they were to turn to The Service of Holy Matrimony on Page (whatever page it is) of Lutheran Worship. (Edit: Actually, on further research, there is no Service of Holy Matrimony in Lutheran Worship. You're on your own, people.) That leaves two of my friends engaged, not to each other, and I know of a few others getting married as well. I, of course, missed the boat for the forseeable future.
Now for a little housekeeping. Not by any choice of my own, mind you, but my mom was kind enough to install a shelf in response to my ongoing complaining about lack of storage space, and well, long story short, she came to the conclusion that something was living in my pile of clutter. The pile in question is not the endless stash of paper I have on or near my desk, but a pile of odds and ends on the floor in the corner. Apparently not a good place for a pile. This was the stuff that I couldn't find room for when I moved into this room, call it, 6 years ago. And there it's sat. Occasionally I'd add to it or find a home for some of it, but it's more or less maintained its size. Cause I was scared of the pile. I established a long time ago that I didn't know what to do with it. But the new shelf changes things. Contents: two old bookbags with broken zippers (expendible); various cleaning supplies that came with my current violin (relocated); notebooks from various highschool classes where I actually had to take notes (I happened to flip open the political science one to the reading notes from the infamous Sept. 11. I vaguely remember the teacher saying that the entire class might be rendered irrelevant by the new political unity that arose that day. Turns out things are more the same than ever); and a variety of summer camp yearbooks, the earliest of which came from before eighth grade. This has all been deemed to have historic/nostalgic value and found a place on the shelf. So no more pile. I didn't find anything living there, either, but whatever.
Work continues. The parts that aren't proprietary really aren't that interesting, which is why these things are a bit more spaced out these days. 1 month to Organ Service I. Roughly.
posted by Kevin H | 8:45 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home