Folks parked on nearly every grassy spot on three sides of the church.
Good times just kept on rolling by during last month--May. Earlier, the mission trip to south Louisiana, and then Mother’s Day. A
week later was my first attendance and participation in Old Folks Singing in
Tull, a small town just over the Grant County line (from Saline County) on
Highway 190.
Hosted by Ebenezer United
Methodist Church, this year’s event,was the 132nd such meeting. The small sanctuary
was full of folks of all ages—from two to . . . 92(?)
Karen Westbrook, Mark Gillis (standing)
Joan Burton and Jeanette Coppock
Surnames
of officers and planning committees included DuVall, Tull, Westbrook, Burrow,
Burton, Parson, Gillis, Jones, Reed, Kiernan, Shults, Smith, Harrison, McDade,
Davis, and Greer. Four states were represented.
The
weather couldn’t have been better. The church sits on a hill and is surrounded
by acres of grassy spaces and trees. A cemetery adjoins the grounds and many
families decorated their loved one’s graves with fresh flowers for the
occasion.
I
parked in my usual place near the front of the building. The minister and his
son, the mayor and his wife, and someone in a vehicle out by the cemetery were
already there. I carted my TV tray, lawn chair, and tote with drinks,
dinnerware, and a large container of frozen pears out to the back area where
tables that stretched from here to there were set up.
Leaning
the tray and chair against a tree, I took my “potluck” dish to the near end of
the long table. From that time until lunch, the fruit would thaw nicely.
By
9:45 a.m. the grassy areas were covered with vehicles. Folks were staking out eating
places with card tables and folding chairs and adding their food to the growing
board.
At 10
o’clock, the meeting began, greetings and invocation were given, then the
singing began. Hardback copies of the 1800s-era “Christian Harmony,” that of
shaped notes, open score, myriad repeat signs, dark bar lines and tiny words.
Oh, I could hardly keep up on the songs I didn’t know. I eschewed playing any
of them even though some kind soul had transcribed an accompaniment booklet.
Different
folks—some with family members beside them—selected and “led” the hymns. A “special” or two, usually grandchildren, paused
the group singing. At 11:45, the group broke for “dinner on the grounds,” after a
blessing by the acting chaplain, newly-retired Dr. Russell Burton.
By the
time I’d visited a spell, gotten my tote from the car, and walked to the back
area, groups were heading toward their picnic places. My stuff was in the area
where Bob and Bruce Carlisle and their wives had gathered. I asked to join them
and they welcomed me. Bruce went through my music classes in Bauxite during the
mid-60s."
Toward
1: 15, folks began folding up and preparing to re-enter the church for the
afternoon session of a memorial service, then singing from the Cokesbury
Worship Hymnal. Now, those I COULD play; they were ones I’d practiced playing
in my early piano-lesson days.
Evelyn (Gillis) Kiernan, Shirley (Duvall) Burleson, and moi (pianist at Ebenezer). Janie Wilmoth, a long-time pianist, was ill, and was sorely missed.
We three pianists took turns accompanying, and
leaders of each song were summoned from the congregation, some saying they were
not aware of this “honor” beforehand. But each—some with memories of forebears’
favorite songs—acted with love and dignity and—at times, laughter.
"Peace, Be Still" sung by (from left) Brian Tull, Rick Burrow and Wilson Duvall
Altogether,
around fifty hymns were sung, only the first and last verses of most, according
to the emcee. And we all raised voices lustily on each one. After the
benediction, we visited again, then departed for our homes.
Now,
to wait for the 133rd Old Folks Singing, always the third Sunday in
May. Same place. Come!
Beverly
Carolyn
