I set the new topic only as Lee properly changed the name. My choice was an immediate reaction, Lee’s was more considered.
But the answers are all the same, my college singing group (Princeton Tigertones, 1957) had as a closing song “The song is ended, but the melody lingers on”. When I heard the sound from the funeral of Father Mike (FDNY Chaplain) today “The Flowers of the Forest” was one of the tunes played on the pipes. Music is the soul of man, and his support in joy and sorrow.
There can be no greater tribute than to play the lonesome tunes, the tunes of glory. It is a moment of introspection, of reflection - and although lighting a candle is more visible to others the song invests more of oneself into the the remembrance of the departed.
Should something happen to me, and it will someday as I’m as mortal as you all (and perhaps a bit closer to it than most, at 66), I would prefer to have a thousand friends sing a song to me alone and thinking of me than to have someone sing a song with a thousand listeners.
Music, played well or badly, is music. This is a community of those who love it. The crowds for concerts are not. The very nature of the sessions that whislers attend is the participation, and the making of music.
Save me from stars and concerts, let me have a group who sing and play, however badly. At the end of the month I’ll spend a long weekend with my Tigertones of the fifties (the group still exists, they are much better than we were, but I’d rather sing with my guys than listen to them). We’ll sing from morn til night, a song will start when my mouth is full of Wheaties at breakfast, and while I swallow my beer at midnight.
I’m sure that each and every one of you has played a favorite slow air in honor of those lost in Manhattan, and Washington. Music is our humanity, and our solace. And for those who have sent messages to me on my lack of religeon - it is the songs of the angels to each of us. Whether the heavenly choir exists or not, this earthly choir is heavenly.
Best, Jon