MTC #173 - Everybody Hurts, Sometimes

Endings.

They are so hard.

They are especially hard for those of us who are emotional, tender-hearted, sentimental, melancholic, and change-averse. (Hmm, sounds like me)

I vividly remember my high school graduation—looking out from the stage at my fellow students realizing I probably wouldn’t see most of them ever again. It was at that moment I wanted to freeze time and scream “this can’t be right. I’m not ready to grow up!” I also remember the last day of college, which moment came as I walked not on a stage (I didn’t attend commencement), but out of the Testing Center having finished my last final exam. While I was grateful to be done with tests, I was a jumble of emotions for what lie ahead—and my heart hurt for the things, experiences, and people I’d miss.

The beginning of a Mormon Tabernacle Choir member is filled with lots of wondrous things. The first time singing on a broadcast; the first time seeing one’s self on TV; the first time participating in each of the various annual concerts; the first time a piece of music is learned and memorized; the first tour experience; the first time singing in General Conference; the first recording session. And the list goes on. The firsts are filled with lots of excitement, anticipation, and humility. But at some point, all members must pass through the “zone of LASTS”.  The last concert, the last tour, the last time singing this song or that one, and the last Music & the Spoken Word broadcast.

So it was for 23 choir members who officially retired today. Either they had reached the age of 60, or they had been in the choir for the maximum 20 years. Whatever the case, these 23 had been going through their “lasts” for quite some time now. And today marked their official exit from the zone of lasts. Following the broadcast, a Retirement Ceremony was held, with Mack Wilberg reading parting thoughts (as written by each retiree), recognizing each with a handshake and/or hug, and presenting them with a beautiful plaque to remember their time in the choir. Those not retiring, sat, looking on, perhaps contemplating how much time they had left. For me, it was that, and also thinking about the experiences and conversations I had had with several of those leaving—particularly my fellow bass brothers. At the end of the retirement service, those retiring stood in a line facing the choir, and we sang "God Be With You" to them. Emotional? Yes.

As I drove home, and as I sit here, now, my heart hurts for those who have left. Who knows though? Maybe they’ll bravely walk through the new door in front of them with optimism and eagerness. Or, on the other end of the spectrum, maybe they’ll wish there was a coping support group they could join! All I know is when it comes time for ME to leave, I’ll probably want that support group! Particularly when I watch the first broadcast post-retirement--knowing I don’t get the privilege of occupying one of those seats in the loft any longer, and all that goes with that occupying privilege.

Thank you David. Thank you Blaine. Thank you Craig. Thank you Jonathan. Thank you Steve. Thank you Scott. And to all of the other 17, thanks for your service as well. Until we meet again, God be with you. 

Pictures from today's broadcast

(click to enlarge)

Blaine

Craig

David

Jonathan

Steve

Scott