Girly tough ain't enough: Bērnu Ziemassvētku koris /// Children Christmas choir

Katru gadu no jauna mūsu skolas korītis, kas, protams, nebija nekāds dižulis, un pirmā balss skanēja īpaši pīkstulīgi, pēdējā skolas dienā pirms Ziemassvētkiem dziedāja Mārtiņa baznīcā. Tas bija tāds ļoti paredzams notikums, kuru katru gadu gribējās. Tā jau tur nebija nekas sevišķi foršs, agri jāceļas, jāsēž aukstā baznīcā un vēl uz kādu mēģinājumu jāaiziet, un ne-koristiem kopā ar klases audzinātāju apmeklēt Ziemassvētku koncertu šķita gatavā bezjēdzība, taču apstākļu kopums radīja zināmu tīksmi.

Uz baznīcu mēs vienmēr gājām pa vienu un to pašu ceļu - taisnu ielu, kas veda no skolas līdz baznīcas. Tas kādreiz noteikti bija paredzēts kā oficiālais ceļš uz baznīcu. Reizēm nešpetni puteņoja, skolnieciņu ģīmīšos pūta sniega vērpetes, un brišana bija pagalam lēna. Citreiz bija diezgan nožēlojams slapjdraņķis, vai arī putni vīteroja pavasarīgās noskaņās un sauļojās, uz koku zariem izlaidušies. Pie ielas, kas koristu baru šķīra no baznīcas, vienmēr bija noorganizēts policists (vai arī vairāki), uz brīdi apturēja satiksmi, un visi pārtuntoļoja pāri.

Tā kā vītņu kāpnes uz ērģeļu un kora balkonu bija šauras, un vispār vietas maz, diriģents lejā pie baznīcas ieejas izrādīja neremdināmu centību sadalīt visus pa balsīm pirms kāpšanas augšā, un kaut kas jau viņam arī izdevās. Pulciņi sāka mazliet vairāk čalot savas balss ietvaros. Ja ļoti gribējās aizvadīt koncertu kopā ar klasesbiedriņiem no citas balss, varēja mēģināt izlikties par citu balsi. Es kaut kad iefiltrējos 3. balsī, neviens nelikās ne zinis, es sēdēju blakus draudzenēm, un mēs mainījāmies ar saldumiem, ko, ļoti iespējams, bijām tikko viena otrai uzdāvinājušas.
Vienu gadu, kad es biju kādā 6. klasē, es nekur neiefīrējos, un mēģinājumu pavadīju stūrītī pie ērģelēm un kaut kādiem koristu soliņiem Harija Potera sabiedrībā. Mazliet pirms Ziemassvētkiem biju sākusi lasīt, un atrauties nebija tik viegli, Poters taču. Pašā koncertā es gluži braši treļļoju un vīteroju "Ak Tu, priecīga!", "Es skaistu rozīt' zinu" un citas dziesmas, kas katru gadu bija gandrīz vienas un tās pašas. Koncertos pa vidam parunāja mācītājs, reizēm visu runu gandrīz vienā tonī, ērģelnieks paspēlēja gabaliņus (vēlāk mūsu korim uzradās koncertmeistars, kas pats prata spēlēt ērģēles, un to viņš arī darīja).

Tad mēs visi, šoreiz klases audzinātāju pavadīti un izņēmuma gadījumā kāda zēna - nekorista papildināti, soļojām atpakaļ uz skolu pēc liecībām. Tur viss notika samērā ātri, liecības, īpatnēji atzinības raksti, mandarīni un piparkūkas. Ziemassvētku koncerts baznīcā bija savā ziņā Ziemassvēcības garants. Pat tad, kad pēc skolas braucām mājās, un drīzāk izskatījās, ka nākamajā dienā mēs svinēsim Lieldienas, nevis pušķosim eglīti, banzīcā bija izskatījies tāpat kā vienmēr, dziesmas biju akurāt tās pašas, un mēs sēdējām tieši tikpat satuntuļojušies, jo pavasarīgums gaisā nelika baznīcas telpām būt siltākām.

^^^^^

Every year again our little School Choir, which obviously was far from spectacular, and the Sopranos were particularly squeaky, on the last day before Christmas holidays sang in the St. Martins Church. It was such a predictable event which I was kind of looking forward to every year. There wasn't anything that would count as obviously enjoyable; we had to sit in a chilly church, wake up early and attend at least some rehearsals. Non-singers found the attending of Christmas concert quite useless, and it actually pretty much was, still all the circumstances made it quite enjoyable.

We always took the same way to the church - there was a straight street between our school and the church. Long time ago it served as the official way to the church, no doubt about that. Sometimes there happened to be a snowstorm, school kids faces were covered by snowflakes, and the walking tended to be quite slow. Another time there was a miserable slush, or birds were twittering in spring-like spirits, sunbathing on the branches. At the street which separated the singers pack from the church, a policeman (or several ones) always awaited the kids to stop the traffic and let them paddle over the street.

Since the winding stair to the organ and choir balcony (or whatever is its proper name) was narrow, and there was little place, down at the entrance the conductor demonstrated unquenchable diligence to divide everyone into the types of voices, and one cannot say he had no success at all, he did succeed a little. The cluster started to chat slightly more within group of their voice type pals. If you were eager to pass the concert next to your classmates for another voice group, you could try to pretend to be Mezzo Soprano instead of Soprano, for instance. Once I mixed with Altos, no one cared about it, I was sitting next to my girl friends and we were exchanging candies, which we highly possibly had just given each other as Christmas gifts.
Once when I might have been in the 6th year, I didn't join anyone else and spent the rehearsal in the corner next to the organ and some benches for choristers in the dear company of Harry Potter. Shortly before Christmas I had just started to read it, and it wasn't that easy to draw myself away, it was Harry Potter after all. During the concert I was warbling as a birdie and twittered "Oh How Joyfully", "Lo, How a Rose E'er Blooming" and other Christmas corals which were quite the same year after year. In between all that singing the minister said something, sometimes keeping all his speech almost in the same pitch, the organist played some pieces (at some point of time our choir got an accompanist who knew to play organ, and that is what he did in the church concerts).

Then all of us, on the way back accompanied by our teacher and occasionally increased in numbers by some non-singing boys, marched back to the school to pick up our school-reports. It went quick - reports, bizarre diplomas, mandarins and gingerbread. The Christmas concert in the church used to be some sort of a guarantee for Christmas. Even when after the school we were riding home and it looked like we would rather celebrate Easter the very next day instead of decorating the Christmas-tree, in the church it was always the same. The corals were exactly the same, and we were sitting there as wrapped into clothes as always, since the springlyness in the air didn't warm up the church.

kad Ēriks slēpjas kastē zem cepures, viņš izskatās pēc Runča zābakos /// when Eriks is hiding in a box under a hat, he makes me think of Puss in Boots

Ziemassvētku kūka ar pār sniegotu lauku brienoša rūķa dekoru /// Christmas fruit cake with a 'Christmas dwarf or Santa Claus wading through snow-covered field' decor