THE WITMER TRIO HITS THE STAGE
Many, many years ago, when I was a sixth grader at Manheim Christian (yes, the same school in which I now teach music), plans were in progress for the annual Christmas program. My sisters, Barb (2nd grade) and Doris (3rd grade), and I were beginning to sing together in three-part harmony, so it was decided that we would sing Away in a Manger prefaced by a little poem of which we each would say a few lines. The year before, I had wowed everyone with my dramatic rendition of a very lengthy narration for a play. So I was eager to equally wow them with our amazing little trio. Certainly I was a rising star!
Keep in mind that in those days MCDS did not believe in instrumental accompaniment, so to get a song started correctly a pitch pipe was used. Every time we practiced, one of the teachers would blow the correct pitch and we were able to find our starting notes from there. Also, every time we practiced, we used a song book.
HOWEVER, as we practiced one final time at home (I can still see us standing in the upstairs hallway at home), we discovered that we could easily do it without the book. And for that matter, I was quite proficient with blowing the correct pitch on my dad's pitch pipe. Who needed a book? And who needed a teacher to blow the correct pitch? Certainly not us!!
So off to the program we went. As we waited backstage (which was just a stairwell), an eighth grade boy began to tease me when he saw me holding my dad's pitch pipe. "You're going to blow the wrong pitch," he playfully taunted. With great indignation I retorted that I KNEW how to do it.
Of course I knew how to do it, and I was about to prove my point. As soon as we hit that stage I blew the pitch. Doris jabbed me with her elbow and whispered, "We have to say our parts!" Oh, that's right! We were to say our little poetry lines first. So Barb said her few lines, then Doris said hers. And I blew the pitch. Again Doris jabbed me with her elbow. "You have to say your part," she whispered. Oh, that's right! I hadn't said my lines yet. Now I was beginning to feel pretty stupid, but I said my lines, or so I thought. AGAIN Doris jabbed me with her elbow. "You said MY part!" she practically hissed. By then people were beginning to giggle. I can still clearly see two women, one was my best friend's mother, and the other was the mother of a missionary boy in my grade who was at our school while they were home on furlough, and I liked him a lot. Those two women were almost bending over with laughter. Somehow I managed to say my correct part, then blow the correct pitch, but as we sang WITHOUT THE BOOK I got my words mixed up, I lost my high tenor part and began singing an octave above Barb's alto, which sounded absolutely horrible. The song seemed to last forever as we plundered through all three verses. As we left the stage, there was the middle school chorus, all lined up and ready to go on. I had to quickly get into my place in the FRONT row, go out there, and face those laughing ladies again. Needless to say, all thoughts of stardom were dashed that night!
One added note to this story. A few years ago I created a musical entitled "A Trip Down Memory Lane" for our school's 50th anniversary. I included the above event in the musical and had three girls, sisters Megan and Kelsey Harley, and their cousin Hannah Metzler, reenact this sad, but now funny experience. We dressed them up like little Mennonite girls, and they REALLY hammed it up. This time, because they knew it was a reenactment, the audience just screamed laughing. There was one sensitive older gentleman in the audience who was shocked at how people were laughing, because he thought their mistakes were genuine, instead of planned.
Thankfully, that experience did not ruin my life, or that of the Witmer trio. We had many years of singing and ministering together, both a capella and with guitar and keyboard accompaniment. In fact, listeners to WDAC in this area can still occasionally hear our songs on the Sunday School Meditations radio program for whom we recorded about 100 songs back in the day.
Keep in mind that in those days MCDS did not believe in instrumental accompaniment, so to get a song started correctly a pitch pipe was used. Every time we practiced, one of the teachers would blow the correct pitch and we were able to find our starting notes from there. Also, every time we practiced, we used a song book.
HOWEVER, as we practiced one final time at home (I can still see us standing in the upstairs hallway at home), we discovered that we could easily do it without the book. And for that matter, I was quite proficient with blowing the correct pitch on my dad's pitch pipe. Who needed a book? And who needed a teacher to blow the correct pitch? Certainly not us!!
So off to the program we went. As we waited backstage (which was just a stairwell), an eighth grade boy began to tease me when he saw me holding my dad's pitch pipe. "You're going to blow the wrong pitch," he playfully taunted. With great indignation I retorted that I KNEW how to do it.
Of course I knew how to do it, and I was about to prove my point. As soon as we hit that stage I blew the pitch. Doris jabbed me with her elbow and whispered, "We have to say our parts!" Oh, that's right! We were to say our little poetry lines first. So Barb said her few lines, then Doris said hers. And I blew the pitch. Again Doris jabbed me with her elbow. "You have to say your part," she whispered. Oh, that's right! I hadn't said my lines yet. Now I was beginning to feel pretty stupid, but I said my lines, or so I thought. AGAIN Doris jabbed me with her elbow. "You said MY part!" she practically hissed. By then people were beginning to giggle. I can still clearly see two women, one was my best friend's mother, and the other was the mother of a missionary boy in my grade who was at our school while they were home on furlough, and I liked him a lot. Those two women were almost bending over with laughter. Somehow I managed to say my correct part, then blow the correct pitch, but as we sang WITHOUT THE BOOK I got my words mixed up, I lost my high tenor part and began singing an octave above Barb's alto, which sounded absolutely horrible. The song seemed to last forever as we plundered through all three verses. As we left the stage, there was the middle school chorus, all lined up and ready to go on. I had to quickly get into my place in the FRONT row, go out there, and face those laughing ladies again. Needless to say, all thoughts of stardom were dashed that night!
One added note to this story. A few years ago I created a musical entitled "A Trip Down Memory Lane" for our school's 50th anniversary. I included the above event in the musical and had three girls, sisters Megan and Kelsey Harley, and their cousin Hannah Metzler, reenact this sad, but now funny experience. We dressed them up like little Mennonite girls, and they REALLY hammed it up. This time, because they knew it was a reenactment, the audience just screamed laughing. There was one sensitive older gentleman in the audience who was shocked at how people were laughing, because he thought their mistakes were genuine, instead of planned.
Thankfully, that experience did not ruin my life, or that of the Witmer trio. We had many years of singing and ministering together, both a capella and with guitar and keyboard accompaniment. In fact, listeners to WDAC in this area can still occasionally hear our songs on the Sunday School Meditations radio program for whom we recorded about 100 songs back in the day.
5 comments:
This is another GREAT story and I was there to see the girls re-enact your story and it WAS hilarious!
Wow...I wish I was there then too. It had to have been hilarious. I can just picture it in my mind and your photo makes it easy. Good story.
Good story, and I can relate to that since our family sang in churches,etc. "way back when" for as long as I can remember. Thanks for the story!
Hilarious story...I love reliving things like that...and they seem to become funnier with time!
Oh, Jeanie girl-- isn't it nice that time and experience put some perspective on stuff like this? And it is so much better to laugh over it than to cry. Unfortunately, I know the feeling well enough to know that it wasn't much fun at the time. I suppose God looks down on little Mennonite girls and decides that our self-sufficiency needs a little toning down or something, but I have had it happen to me -- and most often when I am so sure that I can do it right or better or best! Wow! The lessons are so valuable, but at the time, so painful. By the way, I would love to hear some tapes of that Witmer trio.
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