Funny Guy Friday… And the band played on...

    Funny Guy Friday is written each week by my husband Mark.  So…  I married a funny Guy...
    Let me begin this week by pointing out that I love the music during Mass. In fact, I owe my marriage to the nine o'clock folk group at Saint Pius Church.
    You see, about twenty-two years ago, I decided to become a Catholic and went through the RCIA program at Saint Pius. My RCIA group was assigned to go to the 9:00 Mass every Sunday. The 9:00 Mass had a folk group that was led by my soon-to-be mother-in-law.
     Every Sunday, I sat in the front row near the group, and every Sunday I would see this beautiful curly haired girl sneak in the side door, always a few minutes late. I was pretty sure that I went to Junior High School and Senior High School with her, but I had never spoken with her. She would sing and play instruments like the tambourine and my personal favorite, the bongos. I remember thinking, she has great bongos... er, uh... I mean... she plays great bongos.  
     You know something: it has never occurred to me until just now, that my wife has never once even mentioned the bongos since that time. I know my wife pretty well and I can see her arriving late to rehearsal, interrupting a conversation about who in the group might be able to play the bongos. Despite never having played the bongos in her life, she probably walked in and said, I'll do it! without any hesitation. Even today, she volunteers for stuff like that all the time. The only difference now is that I am the one who actually does the work that she volunteers to do.
    Anyway, I watched her in the folk group every Sunday and knew that I was going to marry her before we ever went out. I mean, seriously, who could resist the late arriving bongo chick?
     I tell you all of this because of what happened at church this past weekend.
     Sunday was Epiphany and we arrived at our usual 10 a.m. Mass. As is our custom, I dropped the family off at the door and went to park… no sense in all of us being late. As I approached the door, I could hear the music and it was louder than ever.
     Now, our current church does not have a regular music schedule, so we never know which music group we will get on any given Sunday. We do have six musical options that include no music at all, a cantor, two separate folk groups, the traditional choir and the children's choir. Each brings something special to the table, and each has its own effect on the length of the Mass. Obviously, no music at all is the winner. Typically, these Masses last about forty-five to fifty minutes. The regular choir brings up the rear with a seventy to seventy-five minute range.
    When I refer to the Masses as being winners or losers, I am not implying that a short
Mass is a winner and a long Mass is a loser. I am just saying that there are some Sundays when I feel like a winner when Mass is short and there are some Sundays when I feel like a loser when the Mass is long. I am sure the reverse has also occurred, I just don't ever remember it happening that way.
    As I approached the church entrance, the music was blaring. As I entered the church, it became crystal clear as to why the music was so loud… all five groups were participating in the Mass. When I took my seat, I told Matthew to hunker down, we are staring straight down the barrel of a ninety-minuter.
    The music was beautiful, but if you have five groups, each group has to have a specific role. Each role will be a little longer than normal so that particular group does not feel snubbed. Do you remember the song, We are the World? A long collaborative song that mixed all kinds of music. This was our church's version of that song.
    The first collaboration was the Gloria. Sometimes this is read by the congregation. It is four paragraphs long and takes about forty seconds to read. Typically, it is sung and depending on the music group, it will take a minute or two to sing. On this particular Sunday, the children's choir sang the first paragraph (or stanza for all you music freaks out there). These kids are so cute with their little angel-like voices. Then the regular choir kicked in and the poor children were never heard from again. I mentioned to Matthew that it was as if the men in the choir ate all the cute little children. Then they kept repeating the first stanza after singing the second, third and fourth stanzas.
    I have been told that this is called repeating the refrain. Next time, I hope they would refrain from repeating it.
    After the third time of hearing stanza one, I turned to Matthew and whispered, this is like hearing A Hundred Bottles of Beer on the Wall, for crying out loud.
    You will notice that I whispered a lot of stuff to Matthew during this particular Mass. There are two reasons for this. First, Grace is out of town, and she usually likes to sit next to me during Mass. I will make an occasional observation that will keep her entertained. Since she is gone, Matthew was by my side and provided a fine audience.
    The second reason is that I can never say this stuff directly to Cheryl because she will reprimand me right there in the middle of Mass. However, I do like to include her in our little reindeer games, so I told Matthew to tell Mom about my keen observations… but make her think it is your keen observation… and that I yelled at you when you told me. I think that this gives me plausible deniability when she looks a me and rolls her eyes. I raise my hands and give her a confused look and just for good measure, I might rap poor Matthew in the back of the head. Cheryl is tough, so once we enter through the church doors, it is every man for himself.
    Back to the concert... I mean the Mass. They broke out the trumpet. That is when you know it is a big deal. I must admit that I liked the trumpet solo. It was very well done: it was short, and it was an effective ending to a very nice Mass… did I mention that it was short?
    As much as I liked the trumpet, it was nothing compared to Cheryl's reaction to the whole Mass. As the trumpet was playing, I looked over at her and she had her eyes closed and was swaying back and forth. If there were bongos in our pew, she would have been all over them. I swear, it would not have surprised me if she had taken a lighter out of her purse and held it over her head calling for an encore.
    Look, I will repeat, I love music at Mass. In fact, I think that the music enhances the whole celebration, and I miss it when it is not there. I have seen first hand how hard the folks work to put the music together when my mother-in-law was running the folk group over at St. Pius. But I am reminded of the time I went to see Bruce Springsteen in concert. I loved Bruce, but his concert lasted for more than four hours. Enough already, I was ready to go home after two. Sing Born to Run and I am on my way.
    On a completely separate note, how cool is it that I married a girl from the band!