FRONT PORCH HARMONY

I was talking to my friend, Howard, Sunday afternoon about how I love to sing harmony.  His response was something like ‘I never noticed’.  (Just a little sarcasm since we work together in the sound booth at church and he hears it all the time.)  I will take the lead if you just make me but I would much rather find that sweet note that rounds out the sound of harmony.  And I like it tight.  The tighter, the better. 

I talked about Mom’s amazing contra-alto voice and how we would sit on the front porch on those clear spring or fall evenings and sing.  Anola and Ada would take lead, Brenda would take alto and Mom would take 2^nd alto.  That left me hunting a note that harmonized with them.  Sometimes it would be high.  Sometimes low.  And sometimes, I could slide in between Anola and Brenda or Brenda and Mom.  Talking about it made me realize how many and varied were the music lessons I had on my own front porch.  It also made me realize that my music legacy started long before I was born. 

Mom had all kinds of stories and used to talk about how they would dance all night while Bob Wills and the Playboys played Western Swing or Floyd Cramer tickled the ivories.  But one story really says it all.  During WWII, Granny Doucette worked at her Uncle Myron’s sawmill.  There was a German prisoner of war camp close by and they would bring the men over to work at the mill.  One day Granny and Mom were cleaning house and they started singing.  Of course, they didn’t have air-conditioning so all the windows were wide open.  She couldn’t remember the song; just that it was an old hymn.  Granny led and she took alto.  It wasn’t until they stopped singing that they noticed how quiet it was.  Suddenly, applause rang out across the mill.  When they looked outside, all those men were gathered round clapping. 

Yes, that legacy goes back a long way.  And it will live on.  My brother, Harold Wayne (who couldn’t carry a tune in a bucket), has a son, Cody Wayne, that is in a Country band, Westbound 21.  They are really breaking out.  (You could have knocked us over with a feather when we found out Cody could really sing.)  I just had a great-niece born with fingers a mile long.  Can anyone say concert pianist?

I have a back porch now and I have been known to crank the radio, open the back door and sing…harmony of course.  Nothing sweeter.