A new soprano joined our choir recently. I wanted our organist to know a little about her, so I mentioned that she is an actuary. His response: Great! A soprano who can count!
One of our members has a really wicked sense of irony. My ribbing is wetter where he has a subtle touch, so he is by far the better man on this count. To top this off, he is fairly brilliant anyway, and a fine gentleman. Unlike myself, he pauses to think and consider before replying.
When looking at a Graduale with both sets of manuscript neumes engraved:
A: Somebody scribbled in your book! Look at all those red marks. B: (Looked carefully at A, then stifled a smile) Yes! I was so angry.
Or when he translated, off-the-cuff, 70 percent of a hymn we didn't have a translation for. (And the Lord ascended into heaven somethingsomethingsomething that his sacrifice somethingsomething for all men ...)
A: I had no idea that so many Latin words meant, "something." B: Yes, it's very mysterious.
Me, describing the 6pm Sunday Mass at my home parish: "It wasn't specifically a teen Mass, but they always had Youth Group afterwards, so a lot of the high schoolers came, and also Middle School, Young Adults, and plenty of regular aged people." One of my over-75yo Sopranos: Regular aged. So none of us would qualify."
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