The "Adventures of a Chorister" Story

It was an ordinary day.  Just finished putting new heavy-duty carpet in my office to replace the ugly stuff that had been on the floor since we moved into the house in 1997.  Then had to redecorate the room to resemble an office at the beach.  Covered one wall with 10 beach prints, another with a shelf that holds some of our souvenirs from our journeys with a trio of prints above it, another wall with one of my favorite watercolors from St. Martin titled "Reflections" by Antoine Chapon and the final wall holds a multi-tiered shelf shaped like a boat that holds some framed photos and a few books.  It now looks like an office fit for a beach bum.  Then came the chore of relocating the furniture and sorting out the files in the filing cabinets.  While going through the one file drawer I had designated as Mom and Dad's Stuff, I came across an envelope that I had not seen before.  Tucked away in a larger envelope was an envelope addressed to my dad with 714 East End Avenue as the address.  Wow, that was when he was a young boy growing up in Lancaster.  Letter was from George B. Rodgers, Organist and Choirmaster of St. James Church, Lancaster, Pennsylvania; dated August 23, 1934.  It read: My Dear Paul,  I am truly sorry to have to write this but we must grow up and some insist of growing fast so there is the trouble, our voice can not keep up so it cracks.  I hope you will still have some interest in the choir and in a few years will care to return to it. Signed George B. Rodgers.  Dad was being fired from the choir that he loved so much as a young boy.  At the time he would have been 14 years old and his voice was no longer a soprano or alto, yet not yet a tenor, so he was of no use to a very well-known boy's choir which featured a few adult men choristers.  I can just see dad's response when he got the letter in the mail.  I'm sure he knew it would happen sometime, but you never want that time to happen.  Dad eventually returned to the choir after his voice changed to a mellow baritone.  Also tucked away in the larger envelope was a 5"x7" certificate with my name on it and dated June 1956.  It was at this time that I was awarded, as a faithful member of St. James Church Choir, the mark of distinction for outstanding work and as a lasting record of my election to wear the Choirmaster's Cross.  Pretty neat to earn that award, since it was voted on by my peers and I was now the leader of the boys choir.  I was 12 years old at the time and I did retain the Cross for two years.  The certificate was signed by my rector, Robert C. Batchelder and by my Choirmaster, Frank A. McConnell.  Quite an honor for any boy. I guess it is time to continue my search through the filing cabinet to see what other goodies may appear that will remind me of my childhood.  It was another extraordinary day in the life of an ordinary guy.