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steps as she hurried to remind us with index finger raised to her lips that librarians and studying students had rights which we talkers should honor. My first registration was indeed a tender moment: what to take now, or later, if at all. Obviously I needed help, which was abundantly volunteered by Harry Dean, who only the previous year had replaced rotund Mr • Fjeldsted as the entire me in band, orchestra, chorus, harmony, plus private vocal and violin lessons. But from this moment my love of music was necessarily expanded to include my love for this dynamic man who both shared my conducted us with violin in one hand, bow-as-baton in the other, smiling, teasing, joking, seldom scolding, until we gave forth what he convinced us we could. What memories radiate over the years from that top-floor southwest corner room which he pervaded. Here just before noon of a sun-filled October day, we sang those songs which have ever been his every time we have sung or heard them. What a reassurance to have the Prayer of Thanksgiving, which he taught us, reappear in the new hymnal: We gather together to ask the Lord's blessing. Ht? chastens, and hastens his will to make known. The wicked oppressing, now cease from distressing, sing praises to his name, he forgets not his own. But during those October afternoons, he so arranged his affairs that at the crucial hour he was near his home radio listening to the world series, always What names he taught all of us, names we shall love and live with as long as our ears hear: Verdi's Grand March from Aida, Gilbert and Sullivan's timeless spoof on authoritarianism and self - righteousness with Royal Andreason as the Mikado himself (Aha!). And what could be a greater spoof than the round-faced Danishinan Arden Petersen pretending to be Nanki Pooh, yet he wore no straight-haired wig like the others, but only his abundant tight curls anc5 119 |
