Choir Mom
Christopher DeCou
©
Copyright 2018 by Christopher DeCou
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Dawn
was sitting in the corner at the small table. She has light brown
hair, though as she admitted in her smooth drawl, “I just got
my hair colored yesterday. I knew I had to get cleaned up before
meeting you. I met David and Katherine for lunch on Sunday, and had
to apologize so many times for my appearance. I looked awful. I
haven’t had it recolored all summer. I’m just vain
enough, I have to make sure my hair is colored right.” She is
fond of describing herself as “matronly,” and I can’t
think of a better description. She commands a room, always prepared
for any and everyone, ready to solve any crisis, be a shoulder to cry
on, offer a word of advice. She is not tall or imposing, but her
presence always impresses.
This
might be her last year in Korea, and she has started to delegate her
responsibilities among the foreigner and ex-pat community. “Over
the past few months, I have tried to step away from the organization.
I am doing less these days. Well, I am doing less of what I was
doing, I’m now just picking up some other neglected areas,”
she explained. Dawn has no official role for the community, but she
is vitally important. She has been integral to one of the most
cherished organizations of the Seoul arts community, the Camarata
Music Company (CMC), a nonprofit music organization, dedicated to
promoting music and theater, and bridging cultural divides across the
city. She has contributed to many other initiatives and organizations
with just as much zeal, yet her passion remains in music, “I
don’t know what I would have done without Camarata.”
That’s
where I first met Dawn. I moved to Korea to teach history and social
science and landed south of Seoul in a small city of five hundred
thousand – provincial by Korean standards, since anything not
Seoul is the boonies. I had visited the metropolis numerous times,
but had few opportunities to connect to community. At the beginning
of winter that first year, a local friend who knew that I enjoyed
singing, told me about a choir in Seoul. They had two different
groups, one auditioned, which sang throughout Korea and the city; and
the second, open to anyone and with three performances a year. I was
ecstatic and overjoyed to audition. I was accepted into the first
choir, and began a three-year association with a weekly 4-hour
commute.
That
first rehearsal, Dawn was the grease that made the wheel spin.
Although Ryan directed the choir and the organization, she ran
logistics, called and ordered dresses. She took the director’s
desultory comments and wrote a coherent outline and schedule. She met
with Ryan throughout the week to work on planning. When we had
events, she was the one who figured out transportation and where
everyone was. For the larger choir, she organized registration,
managed tickets, and so much more. She took on responsibility to aid
Ryan, and became indispensable to the organization.
We
affectionately called her our choir mom. If anyone had a problem,
they called Dawn, and she came to the rescue. She always considered
others and sacrificed herself and her time. Since Korea was not her
first international experience, she knew the feelings of loneliness
that can overwhelm one during the holidays. She would take on her
particular matronly role of hostess, and orchestrate wonderful
parties. After the spring concert, she would often host an event for
the organization. She invited everyone to her house. Her husband
would do the cooking, and discuss the most recent Congressional
debate, all the while showing off his latest kitchen utensil. She
would meander among the guests, glass of wine in hand, ensuring
everyone had something to eat and was enjoying themselves. For that
night, their flat would become a shelter or halfway house for
transient waifs, globetrotters, CEOs, and everyone else.
Life
was not always so convivial. Dawn grew up around Charlotte, North
Carolina, home to the Bible Belt. She was raised in the conservative,
evangelical world. No drinking, no pants for girls. One should live
apart from the world, rather than in it. She grew her hair long, but
her sisters were allowed to cut and trim it. Others in their church
were not so liberal. They made sure to let her mother know what they
thought of her loose children. Once, when in early high school, she
had the opportunity to travel with her father to the national
assembly. This was the convention when all bigwigs from across the
denomination came together to discuss church policy.
It
was her first time to fly, and she was so excited. She put on a nice
dress and high heels for the journey. Her family was not well off, so
she was not wearing anything too expensive, but she was proud of her
dress. They flew to Dallas for the meeting; and when she and her
Daddy arrived, they were overwhelmed with the heat. It was summer
already, but the city was experiencing a huge heatwave. Her shoes
couldn’t take the heat either. They were some of those cheap
heels with plastic blocks. As she and her father walked along the
pavement, the plastic started to melt. By the end of the day, they
were dripping and worthless.
At
the convention, the denomination was becoming absurd with their new
rules. Her father wasn’t so strict. She saw him more as a
“Bible teacher” than as one devoted to finding
regulations from the Bible. It was he who allowed for more leniency
in their family. She would come home and talk about how everyone saw
her as different. She was becoming the “girl who wears long
dresses.” Most of the other girls had short skirts or pants,
but she was forbidden. Her father felt such sympathy he told her not
to worry about it. He would take her to the store, and they would buy
her some pants. Her mother was not happy, but her father put his foot
down, that he would not allow his daughter to be left out and feel so
alone. It ended up being too late anyway, because by the next year,
she was already “the girl who always wears long dresses.”
She wouldn’t be able to lose that reputation until she went to
college.
The
convention could have made that even worse. She and her dad were
sitting in the pew during the speech, when someone raised clothing
for discussion. He was concerned the young people were too liberal
and licentious. He called for the Assembly to require only muted
color clothing. Ostentatious colors distracted from the gospel and
Jesus. The floor opened, and her father looked at her with such
incredulity. Finally, someone raised the relevant point about
missions. He asked the audience to consider how they expected to
discuss these problems in places around the world, where color was
such an integral part of their culture. For instance, in Africa. Have
you seen how they dress in Africa? Do you want to go and tell those
people they can’t wear their tribal clothes for them to become
Christian? Point made, her dad sighed some relief. Thankfully, the
convention tabled the discussion and didn’t pass it. But when
Dawn reflects on how strict her upbringing was, she sometimes wonders
how she got out of it all.
One
of the things that changed her the most was probably the man who
would later become her husband. They were high school sweethearts who
had a long romance. They met through mutual friends: Dawn was friends
with someone that one of his friends was dating, even though Waller
was in his senior year. They all happened to be at the table together
and were chatting, and the conversation turned to various topics
about love and romance. For some reason, Dawn commented that she had
always wanted to receive a love letter. She had this old-fashioned
idea that she would fall in love with someone who would write
beautiful love poetry to her, and words would be the thing that
united them. After she had said that, Waller replied that he would
write her a love letter. She was surprised and didn’t believe
him. She told him, “No, you don’t have to do that.”
He insisted.
The
following day while she was at her locker, Waller walked up to her,
handed her a letter, and said, “This is for you.” She was
so surprised and flattered. She opened it and found it covered in
writing. He had filled the pages with tiny scribbles, filled with
Shakespearean references, literary quotes, flowery language. She was
amazed at his mind. She later found out that he had spent his entire
math class writing it. When the teacher called on him, thinking that
he was not paying attention, he called out the answer, and went right
back to writing the letter.
Dawn
explained that this wasn’t the moment she realized she loved
him though. It was only later after they started dating she learned
how much she cared about him. Several of their friends were hanging
out together, watching the film Brian’s Song. The
lights
were off, and they were huddled in front of the television. When the
story ended, the girls were all crying and weeping. They all rushed
to the bathroom to dry their eyes. They returned, and the guys
switched on the lights and turned on some music to try to lighten the
mood. Several of the couples started dancing. So, she asked Waller if
he would dance with her. He flat out refused. She asked why, and he
said he didn’t want to. She was a little disappointed, but she
sat down next to him. Not long later, he got up and went to the
kitchen. She followed him, and found him there preparing some food.
He was starting to cook something. But that was not what she at first
noticed. Instead it was that as he was gathering the things, he was
swaying and dancing to the music. Standing in the doorway of that
kitchen, she knew: he was the person for her. She realized it wasn’t
that he didn’t want to dance, it was that he was afraid of
dancing in front of the others. That shyness and vulnerability drew
him to her. “I’m a sucker for someone in need,”
Dawn explained with laughter.
Despite
her feelings, their romance took a strange detour. Because Waller was
a senior, he went off to college, and Dawn remained in high school.
They broke up and gave each other freedom to meet other people. Dawn
tried to date other guys, and wanted to treat them on their own. But
she always ended up comparing them to Waller, even when she tried not
to. Once, she became very ill. She went through successive illnesses,
mono, strep throat, etc. and her tonsils could take no more. She had
to have surgery and have them removed. Waller had found out that she
was sick, and had called. He said he wanted to come and see her, and
see how she was doing. She asked him not to come. Her dad was by the
side of her bed, helping her. He told her she needed to take the
medicine, and it was “flavored worse than any of those cherry
throat medications.” She vomited, spilled it all over herself
and her dad. She felt and looked so bad; she didn’t want Waller
to see her like that.
He
came anyway. He stood in the doorway, she was crying, hair a mess,
spit all over her hospital gown. She thought this was it. He would
never want to see her ever again. Years later, he told her: that was
when he knew he loved her. They married as soon as she graduated
college.
Singing
is one of the main motifs to Dawn’s life. I remember the first
time I saw Dawn perform during one of our Chamber Singer’s
concerts. The choir left the stage, and the soloist stood alone. The
piano started, and I immediately recognized Gershwin blues. From the
first note to the last, Dawn captivated the audience, held them on
edge with her voice and emotion. A friend once said asked me, “Who
is that lady in the middle of the choir? She is so electric, and has
so much emotion. When you guys perform, I can’t help but watch
her, because she is so in love with the music.” In that
performance, her voice channeled everything as she placed herself
within that melancholic melody. Tears streamed down my face, when she
sang those intense final notes. The song’s heaviness became
palpable in the room.
But
Dawn has not always had the chance to let music be the center of her
life. Dawn grew up singing in the church, and she studied music in
college. At that time, music became everything. As any music major
knows, music performance demands an incredible amount of time during
college. First are the private lessons, then the singing groups.
Rehearsals, performances, travel, school. It is an intense way to
spend college. Dawn loved music and was glad to do it. But after
graduation, she and Waller got married, and she couldn’t get a
music position. “Let’s be honest, can you really make any
money doing music?”
That
summer, she leafed through the classifieds and other job
advertisements, and found a position as a secretary for a brokerage
firm. She was a quick learner and made her case. In the beginning,
the job was a challenge. But she grew accustomed to the new jargon
and started working on the back end organizing documents and
accounts. She knew she didn’t want to be an assistant forever.
She investigated how to become a certified trader. She spoke to her
bosses and told them, she wanted to study to get her brokerage
license; and they supported her, but told her, she had to study on
her own time. They agreed to help her and paid for her materials.
Soon enough, she received a box with 30 or so books in it, and she
hit the books. It took her two years, nights and weekends studying
and preparing. She went to take the test and failed.
She
was devastated. So close to the cut off. She knew she could do it.
After all that time and effort, she wouldn’t quit. She decided
to try again as soon as possible. She studied even harder. Reviewed
all the concepts, went through practice tests. “When the big
day came, I had this silly idea that if I feel good about myself,
maybe I will do better.” So, Dawn got all dolled up. She did
her hair, put on a nice dress, matching pumps, and shoes. She did her
makeup and lipstick. She looked like she was going out for a nice
evening date. She made it to the exam center, which was in a hotel,
and sauntered in confidently. As soon as she got the exam, she
scrambled to finish it and worked through the first three hours. She
could barely think during the break for lunch, went back in and ran
her pen along the pages for another three hours. She was exhausted
when it was over, and decided to reward herself with a drink. Since
they were already in a hotel, she went to the bar, and ordered. She
felt great about her answers and was ready. The music started
playing, she started swaying and then walked to the dance floor. She
glanced down at her feet. And she was mortified: she was wearing
completely different shoes on each foot!
She
passed the second exam and became a Series 7 stock broker.
With
her new license, she was promoted and started working for “Tom,
a big guy, Jabba the Hut, sorta look, but a kind, caring man.”
She helped the office expand and grow. When they opened a second
branch, she was instrumental in organizing and logistics. She knew
they would pass her up if she didn’t stand up for herself. She
walked into Tom’s office, and said, “When you open the
new office, I want to be there.” They listened, brought her
there, and she became the new manager.
She loved the job, and only
ended up leaving because of being a new mother and her husband’s
transfer to international offices.
After
all these years, Dawn returned to her second true love: music. When
she and Waller moved to Japan, Dawn started performing again. She had
some scares while they lived there, a mysterious illness that took
time to get resolved. But once they came to Korea, Dawn started
finding more singing opportunities again. Like so many others, Dawn
stumbled into Camarata. She started taking voice lessons again,
rebuilding her voice and repertoire. She has continued to grow and
flourish as an artist and singer there. Now she frequently sings
around Seoul for small events in the international community, sharing
her voice and passion for everyone.
Dawn
has two of her own boys, one in college, the other graduated. They
are the joys of her life, and she cares for them dearly. She loves to
talk about what they are up to and tell stories about them from high
school and when they were little, as any proud mother. Like the time
they returned to the United States after living in Japan. For her one
son, this became a way to open up and make friends. The new kids at
school loved to hear about his life in Japan. For her other son, the
move back to the States was traumatic. Kids made fun of him for
talking about Japan and identifying with Japan. Her boys changed, and
it was hard on her as a mother.
We had long finished
our meal and were just talking about life, love, and stories. In many
ways, she has been a mom to so many, and I felt particularly touched.
People used to ask me why I would make the commute to CMC every week.
It was tiresome, rarely fun. I often arrived home after midnight,
even later if there was a problem. And then had to wake up by 6 am
the next morning to be at work on time. It was challenging. But it
was almost always worth it. Once, she may have been the soprano who
always wore dresses, but now she was the “choir mom.”
Christopher
DeCou is a historian
and teacher turned digital nomad and writer. He studied Medieval and
Early Modern Studies and Chinese at the University of Michigan and
the University of Chicago. After four years teaching in South Korea,
he decided to pursue his dreams to cross the Silk Road, tell stories,
and write history. Now, he spends his days writing the stories
between the pages and watching distant sunsets over the
Mediterranean.
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