Three Choirs Singing

Tuesday, December 14, 2010

Collette awoke from a dream of Armageddon-espionage. Some covert under-cover children-adult Bible school, in which the final ceremony was to take place in an art museum overlooking the city below. And inside, the glass doors had been covered with black cloth so that no one might see the inner workings, where which Collette walked about observing the preparations, including live history figures in the west wing…

Meanwhile, Puck was being dressed for the morning…

“Look at you in your skinny jeans and chucks,” Collette told him. “If only your Krispy Kreme sweatshirt were a t-shirt, you could make Baby Hipster Magazine.”

Over at the house…

Mom was feeling under the weather.

Carrie explained the use of Egyptian magic oil.

Francis took Puck out for a spin on the road in the snow sled and then as go-carting buddies.

Linnea was sporting new swooped bangs, which made her look a shade older. She was also in line for a new cellphone.

And the whiteboard read:

• Topo Chico

• kabuki brush

• bobby pins

During mathematics…

“How much is 2,000 Euros in dollars?” asked Linnea.

“I’m not sure…” Collette replied. “But I think the dollar is stronger these days. That might be all in my head though…”

“That’s because smart people like me smash all the pennies,” Linnea replied.

And later, while they compared notes in cursive…

“You know, I fooled my gymnastics teacher for a long time,” she said. “She thought I was British. And all the other girls said things to me, like, ‘You just think you’re so hot with your hot British boyfriends…’”

Meanwhile, the girls were watching Wooster and Jeeves.

Dad had taken Puck shopping.

Francis was playing with the coffee maker.

And Joe, working on his final drawing project, recalled old times during choir concerts…

“Yeah, once all of us guys were going to join hands and fall forward at the same time to see how many people we could take out at the same time. And we didn’t, because aside from obvious reasons… well, yeah, because of obvious reasons.”

Later…

While Mom and Linnea-Irish were getting ready to leave, Francis was busy examining a dying plant on the patio.

“Another fern has fallen victim to the Snicketts family,” he said.

“You mean to Mom,” Rose protested, loathe to take responsibility for any ill vegetation.

“I’m going to burn it so it doesn’t suffer,” said Francis, as he carted it into the snow, and proceeded to light it on fire.

Moments later he returned indoors for ‘some gasoline’.

Soon, it erupted in flame.

“That’s called a ‘Fern Burn’,” said Mom, passing through the kitchen.

Then Joe came bounding up the stairs.

“You know what I just realized?” he declared. “I haven’t taken a shower in four days!”

In the afternoon…

Mom and the kids were at the performance church all afternoon until the concert after Carrie had more or less tied the top of Linnea’s hair into a bow.

Joe was at class.

And Rose had convinced Puck that the top of her bunk bed, Linnea’s bed, was ‘The Door to Stinkyland’.

Puck had also found the old Marbleworks. What was left of it anyway…

And, in big news, Dad was to return the following morning for his continued contract with RABO.

By early evening, they were out towards the choir concert at the usual ‘lighthouse church’, as all the recent previous Christmases. Grandma Combs was already there with another bubblegum quarter for Puck.

The youngest choir was by far the smallest, at only 33 participants. Then Linnea in the second. And there was a presentation to Izzy, German, and another buddy for having stayed with Charlie in the hospital, and, as Mrs. West put it, ‘saved his life’ back in August. An unexpected award, in print, from one of Missouri’s representatives. And then the high school processing in the darkness with candles, battery-powered, singing. The effect was good. And the concert seemed to be a success.

It was interesting to see how times continued to change. Collette saw only one familiar face there from the old choir days. But the music went on and on and on…