Story Slam at the Blue Chair

Last night I took a visitor out for a typical Edmonton evening - a story slam at the Blue Chair Cafe. These happen once a month - 10 writers sign up and they read their 5-minutes-or-fewer story to the crowd. There are 5 volunteer judges in the audience, and the stories get rated. A hat is passed and at the end of the night - voila! The winner gets a cash prize.

Last night's winner was Mark Ramsden, and he happens to be one of my students at MacEwan. I can take no credit for his talents. He isn't in one of my writing classes.

The chocolate mousse turned out to be gluten free and corn free, and it was the perfect topper to an earlier spicy chicken curry soup. The stories were in general palatable, but I was wondering why so many men write about being drunk or on drugs. Do they think the audience finds it as interesting as they do? Not me! I get plenty of exposure to alcoholics around here, so I prefer to hear about something else. Oh, maybe it was the thing to talk about back when drinking/drug culture was seen as the emerging literary force - all that Burroughs and Bukowski et al - which isn't much different from the opium culture of Coleridge's time. In the hands of a good writer, it can be interesting. It's not the content that attracts; it's the skill of the writer. Too many men don't seem to think abut that before they put pen to paper and outline their youthful indiscretions.

At the end of the evening, as everyone was paying their bills and heading out into the half-hearted snowy night, a young man stopped at our table. He had been watching the televised 3-Day Novel series the night before - the episode where one of the judges rapped me for what he saw as racism with regard to something I said to the band in preparation for the reading challenge. The young man wanted to tell me he thought the judge was wrong and that I was robbed. I really appreciated that.

One Less Voice

These days I’m paid to go to the big United church at the centre of town: McDougall United. It has a long history of being a centre of political and social influence, but that was in the past. It has come through the waning of the last couple of decades and is starting to grow strong again – and part of that is a refocusing on their purpose. McDougall does a lot with the downtown community – supporting the work of the Bissell Centre and the Edmonton City Centre Church Corporation.

McDougall also has a long history of excellent music, and it used to be a premiere concert venue for the city before the Winspear Centre was built. The acoustics are terrific, and the place is both open and warm. It’s the music ministry that pays me to be there.

I’m the bass section leader. That means I provide an anchor for the volunteer basses in the choir. I help keep it all together and provide leadership. This means I make sure the guys have the right music, that anyone who is having trouble gets a little extra attention. I keep attendance, assign robes to newcomers, and sing the occasional solo piece. At McDougall, the music ranges from Bach to Beatles.

This month is Gospel Music Month – a tribute to the musical heritage of the church as well as coordinating with Black History Month. Our attendance goes up a notch during Gospel Music Month. Maybe it’s the bluegrass band. Maybe it’s the informality of it all. Maybe it’s a nostalgia for a time when we weren’t living in doubt.

I’m the young guy in the bass section. That doesn’t mean a lot. Maybe it’s because the bass voice matures later than the others, but our section is well-lived. We have our challenges: some don’t read music, some are hard of hearing, some are dealing with the pains of growing old. But they come to rehearse every week, and then they show up on Sunday and they give what they have.

Our choir president resigned recently. 70 years old, he’s been singing there for 30 years. He was still singing the occasional solo – and while the voice does not have the robust fierceness of youth, it is still a resonant and sensitive instrument. He has chosen to stop now, before he loses his abilities. He doesn’t want to be an old man singing out of tune and out of time.

He has stepped down now, in Gospel Music Month, when the choir is more informal and when his absence won’t be felt as keenly. I might be the paid section leader, but he’s the man who has been the backbone of the section for decades. I miss him already.

So Dave, if you read this, know that your years of singing brought joy and pleasure to hundreds of people. Thank you.