PLAYING HANDBELLS

Listening to the handbells at church last Sunday brought back memories of a trip I took to the national cathedral in Washington, D.C. That’s what happens when you get older, you remember things.  I find that the older I get the more things I remember I did as a teenager when I was young and active and bouncing all over the place, mostly with nostalgia.  Now, let me tell you, I’m only old in my body alone.  My mind is still very young. My son thinks I’m on the verge of senility, but that’s another story.  Thankfully this memory isn’t about a physical activity but a fond memory of a trip with an adult.

 When I was a teenager, in the late 1950’s early 1960’s, my church, Emmanuel Baptist in Alexandria, La. was gifted a set of handbells partly because of our minister of music Joe Santo who was a wonderful, outgoing man loved by people all over the community.  Of course, since we now had handbells, Bro. Joe started handbell groups - adult and youth groups.  I never heard of handbells and thought this would be fun since I liked music and didn’t play an instrument, or to be totally honest, couldn’t play an instrument, ask my piano teacher.  She could tell you. I wanted to be able to play something.  I already enjoyed singing and dancing so why not be able to play an instrument.

 I was involved in youth choir and loved singing so, it seemed natural that I would become involved with the youth handbell group as well.  It was a social thing, mostly.  So, I did join.  And I learned to play handbells, even if it was only two notes.   

 The adult ringers became a regular part of our worship services. The church loved this addition of handbells at our Sunday morning worships.  

 Bro. Joe was an outgoing person and soon became active in clubs and programs in the city.  One of them was the community theater.  He had met Jacque Caplan at some civic program. Jacque’s personality was larger than life.   The two of them became fast friends.  Jacque was directing the theater productions at the time.  Soon, the two of them collaborated on many musicals.  Bro. Joe became the musical director for several musicals.  This involvement also brought several of us that liked and performed dramas at church to become involved as well. This is when I became a singer and dancer in musicals, like Carousel, or Connecticut Yankee in King’s Arthur’s Court, Oklahoma.   Dancing, in the Baptist church, apparently was okay if it was in a musical, even though I had some adults pull me aside and tell me I was too nice a boy to become involved in such practices.  Bless their hearts.  My mother told me not to worry because I had her Methodist feet.  My grandfather was a Methodist minister.  So, I danced.

 My friends and I hung out at the Caplan house almost every weekend during rehearsals. We were mesmerized by the whole family.  Jacque even came to Emmanuel and directed some of our youth dramas we were doing for the church, like Christ in the Concrete City, or I Saw Him.   She fit right in with Emmanuel even though she was Jewish. I loved her laugh.  At one of our performances, Joe even brought in the priest from the Catholic church next door to say the prayer. These things just didn’t happen in Baptist churches in those days.  Bro. Joe helped Emmanuel reach beyond our own walls to the community. Emmanuel Baptist became ecumenical back in 1960.  I’m proud that we were not the normal Baptist church and did things that were causing eyes to lift and faces to frown; people to think. We were a creative church that saw beyond our own walls.

 My teenage years were spent between church youth choir practice, youth handbell practice, rehearsals for the little theater, or choir productions at school where we sang and entertained civic clubs downtown at lunchtime.  Of course, it was always a plus to leave school for these performances.  I was also a cheerleader my senior year and this meant practices and fun times at our football games, and after game dances.  I enjoyed doing back flips during those games.  Of course, since I lived on a farm, I always had animal chores to take care of, too.  But I was young, and full of energy.  I didn’t have a cell phone, or the distractions kids have today.  I enjoyed being busy, hanging out with friends.

 When I was a junior in high school Bro. Joe asked the church to let him attend the national handbell conference in Washington, D.C. with his wife Lucille.  It would be a two-week trip. Not long before he left, his wife was unable to accompany him.  Joe asked me to go instead.

 Now, I had traveled all over Louisiana with family and even to other states for horse shows with my daddy.  I even had traveled with our youth choir outside of the state, but I had never traveled alone with someone that wasn’t a family member.  This was going to be exciting.

 We packed our bags.  Joe had received the music we would perform at the end of the workshop, so we only needed to bring the bells we would be using. 

 Our first stop was in Ridgecrest, North Carolina.  We stayed with friends of Bro. Joe’s.  This couple had a beautiful two-story log cabin nestled in the Blue Ridge mountains. It was everything you could picture about a cabin in the mountains.  We stayed up past midnight visiting and eating.  My room was a cozy one on the second floor overlooking the mountain.  There was a blue spruce just outside the window. The high-top antique bed had several quilts on it.  There was no chance anyone could get cold in the mountain air on that bed. The next morning an American Redstart woke me with her warbling, It was surreal as I looked at the mountain covered with fog that early morning.

 Our hosts had made a breakfast that consisted of sausage, eggs, biscuits, pancakes with maple syrup, and homemade jelly.  It was a breakfast for kings.  With full stomachs we were off to our next destination, Colonial Williamsburg, Virginia.

 That night we ate at the King’s Arms Tavern.  The meal was inspired by 18^th century recipes. I had my first wine with that meal, well, a taste of it since I was underage.  Bro. Joe shared some with me.   Later that evening we went to the Governor’s Palace for an evening of chamber music from the 17^th and 18^th centuries featuring the harpsichord, voice, flute, and strings.  This was beginning to be a little too much for this Louisiana boy who had not traveled much outside of the state.  I was taking in all the culture with excitement. My future and beliefs I valued was being shaped by this trip.

 After a day or two touring Colonial Williamsburg, we set off for our next destination, Washington, D.C.  On the way there, I got to experience my first driving on the beltway going close to eighty miles an hour bumper to bumper, but I did it and we got there without incident even though I was a nervous wreck when we arrived. This time we would be staying with some friends that both Joe and I knew.  Rep. Gillis Long and Cathy living in their second home in Georgetown. The Longs remained members of Emmanuel after they went to Washington, and I had known them for years since my daddy was a state senator and they had visited frequently in our home.

 I was impressed with their multi-story narrow townhouse in Georgetown.  I think there were four or five floors plus the basement.  While staying with them we had a private tour of the capital and the White House.  We also ate lobster at a fine restaurant in the area.  The next evening, we were guests of the Long’s to see the Broadway traveling company of the musical Oliver. I was in heaven. 

 Our handbell conference was at the Washington National Cathedral.  We had been given the music we would play for the concert at the end of the week before we left Louisiana, so we were prepared.  Daily we practiced, toured the area, and practiced.  At the end of the week everyone in attendance presented a concert to the city. Handbells from all over the country played together, our tables filled the sanctuary of the cathedral.  The music was glorious as it echoed throughout that vast building. Several polished groups presented solos. I felt so small but so proud that I was able to play with such a large group, playing my middle C and D bells. I honestly hated the fact that I would be returning to Alexandria and back to my routine.

 On the way home we visited George Washington’s Mount Vernon, his historic estate just a short drive from Washington, D.C. and Alexandria, Virginia.  We also went to Thomas Jefferson's primary plantation, Monticello.

 I came home feeling like an experienced traveler. My future was set.  I wanted a life around cultural events.

 My trip that summer was a trip of a lifetime.  A trip that let me know who I was and what kind of life I desired. I’m forever in debt to Bro. Joe Santo who allowed me this experience.

 So, listening to the handbells last Sunday brought all of these memories.  As a teenager I would have never believed that one day I could say that I played handbells in the Washington National Cathedral?

 Oh, I’m sure no one heard my C and D except my neighbor ringer from Oregon, but that’s okay.  Besides, after all, I was just one of hundreds.

 But know this.  I played it well! 

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