The text for today is taken from Oscar Hammerstein II, the fourth verse:
Let me go away from the Mississippi,
Let me go away from the white man boss;
Show me that stream called the river Jordan,
That's the ol' stream that I long to cross.
Old man river,
That old man river,
He must know something, but he don't say nothing.
He just keeps rolling, He keeps on rolling along.
Long ol' river forever keeps rolling on...
My dear brothers and sisters, as we prepare to gather for a big Easter weekend at Mom’s in Alexandria, please indulge me in this, my Easter message entitled: “What does it feel like to be in Heaven?”
I have many thoughts about this, as do we all, but the story I want to tell today is particularly appropriate, given mother’s present excitement about not only having her family around her, but being able to perform twice before an appreciative church audience, all in one weekend. And at age 86 no less.
This good feeling is one she diligently tried to share as she doggedly trained each of us, in one way or another, in the performing arts. I dropped out earlier than most of you in the piano department, then the clarinet department.
Singing with mother was more successful, as she coached me through the seventh grade operetta; high school, church and college choir. We even sang duets for Jingle Bells and Welcome Inn shows on local KCMT-TV – so much so that years later my eventual employer, loyal viewer Bill McGarry from Appleton, Minnesota, actually recalled Mom 'n Son performing on his black 'n white. Anyway, learning to sing brought me plenty of performance anxiety, but it brought me pleasure as well.
The most heavenly time I can recall was in a beer joint in downtown Minneapolis.
There begins my Easter story, and it is one of Kathleen’s favorites.
I was about 25 at the time, long before I had ever met Kathleen and her three girls. It was in the mid-70s and piano bars were very popular. My pals and I found this place, “Allee, Piggallee” in an alley off Seventh Street in the Radisson Hotel building.
We gathered there with the other faithful, mostly on weekday nights, to drink and sing lustily. I was there one night with Bruce Berg, Randy Anderson and a buxom Tootie Swain and I don’t know who else.
The woman at the piano was about mother’s age and she was excellent. We sang some standards, some popular music. She also had some sheet music with her to coach us along.
She had a hand-held microphone available and, before you know it, she was encouraging me to sing into it, by myself, off some sheet music she gently pushed my way. She pitched the music in my range, started singing along with me, then, like a tyke on a bike, she shoved me off on my own, and there I was, belting “Old Man River,” supporting my breath from the diaphragm, doing everything just like my mother taught me.
I sang just about every verse, enjoyed the applause, and then it was others' turns to sing other songs. The crowd was happy and having lots of fun, sharing in the spirit. Eventually, the piano woman turned to a gentleman at the far end of the bar, who had been sitting there quietly, just listening.
“Is there anything you would like?” she asked him sweetly.
“Yes, there is,” the stranger said, pointing across the piano directly at me. “I want to hear him sing ‘Old Man River’ again.”
And that, my brothers and sisters, is what I think heaven feels like.
Thanks, Mom.
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Can you find the Rolfsrud musicians in the photo below? To get you started, the concert mistress is So-sie. Apologies to Mr. Askegaard for cutting off his head but we needed to zoom in here. Extra hint: what rhymes with jello?
