Memoir – Page 9 – Goldfish Odyssey

This entry is part 15 of 17 in the series Guiding Hands

I was given the assignment to accompany choir in my early years at Kent. Let’s just say that it wasn’t a productive experience. I was glad when the semester was over. In 1987, I was assigned to be the accompanist for all choral activities. “Apprehensive” would be the right word to describe my feeling, even though I knew that I would be working with a new conductor.

There were three choral groups at school: KSU Chorale, a selected small choir of music majors; University Choir, a larger group for all university students and Kent Chorus, a community choir. Accompanying all three groups, I saw Dr. Shearer every weekday. Miraculously, from the first moment on, I had no problem following his directions. Eventually, I realized that he was guiding my arms with his baton.

Dr. C. M. Shearer came from Texas, a state where choral singing was part of life. Before moving to Kent, he also taught in Omaha, Nebraska, and was the chorus master for Opera Omaha. With natural silvery hair, it’s hard to tell his age. His upright posture made him look tall and in command.

Dr. Shearer noticed that students in Chorale lacked discipline and wasn’t making enough progress. But he still took time to make sure that everything was done properly—sounds, intonations and phrasing. Towards the end of the semester, it became apparent to everyone that there was still much to be done before the concert. He told students that it would be possible to catch up. However, he was also willing to let them fail in public if they wouldn’t put in the work. The concert came and the group wasn’t ready.

After the failed performance, students learned to be responsible and to participate. He began training the group to pay more attention to details. He made them sight-sing: first just some simple exercises up and down the scales; soon, some new pieces. He would say, “Read ahead; sing loudly; and don’t stop.” Of course, this meant that I would be sight-reading new pieces at the piano. And, the same discipline applied to me as well. Slowly, He taught the non-music majors to read. And, eventually, the town folks.

The choirs began to feel like families. The chemistry within each group, especially Chorale, grew steadily. By the time we went on a tour, everyone was excited. I remembered vividly when the bus arrived at our lodging for the first night, one voice started humming “The Lion Sleeps Tonight.” Quickly someone else joined. An improvised a cappella performance went on as we settled in.

Dr. Shearer had a humorous side. He enjoyed telling singer jokes. At the same time, he would tell students to work hard on their musicality so they would become “musicians that sing.” The last year that I played for him, Chorale studied and performed Bach’s motet Singet dem Herrn ein neues Lied, BWV 225 for double-choir.^[1] We made sweatshirts with image of the opening page of the score and the phrase “Musici qui cantant.” The sweatshirt is still in my closet. And, I constantly talk to singers about the importance of studying their scores intelligently.

Fall of 1997, while teaching at University of Akron, I decided to study conducting and asked Dr. Shearer for guidance. He explained to me how the baton should become an extension of my arm. (So, the length of my baton should be in proportion to my arm.) We met weekly studying choral works and operatic excerpts. Although I was familiar with the basic patterns, waving my arms did not come as naturally as I would have hoped. Dr. Shearer was patient with me. He told me to think as if I was pushing against water. This would eventually make a lot of sense to me later.

On a Friday morning in early 2000s, I received a phone call from Dr. Shearer. He had a big concert that night and his pianist was running a high fever. I picked up the music to take a quick look; returned a little before the concert to go over some details with him. Together with the choristers, who never met me before, we gave a solid performance. Thanks to “Read ahead; play clearly; and don’t stop.”

When Dr. Shearer announces his retirement, alumni of the Chorale decided to hold a reunion, concurrent with the annual Yuletide Feast in December of 2007. After almost two decades of separation, most of us showed up and picked up the fun exactly where we left it. Dr. Shearer even let me sit at the keyboard during the rehearsal for a moment.

When not conducting choirs, Dr. Shearer spends most of his free time on woodwork. An aviator, he talked about to build a small aircraft with his son as his retirement project. I am glad to find out that his dream has come true (and more).^[2] Both he and Mrs. Shearer, who always joined us in parties and performances, enjoy cooking. Whenever they tasted something new and wonderful, they would go out of their ways to find out how to make the dish. I am sure that their collection of recipes has grown tremendously.

Read ahead; sing loudly; and don’t stop!

^[1] Singet_dem_Herrn_ein_neues_Lied,_BWV_225_Wiki
Singet dem Herrn, Vocalconsort Berlin
^[2] Father-Son-&-Airplane

This entry is part 14 of 17 in the series Guiding Hands

I was required to study two languages, non-credit, as “research tools.” With my interest in vocal music, Italian and German became natural choices. I signed up for undergraduate beginning Italian course. Dr. Giovanna Jackson was our teacher.

On the first day of class, she walked in; greeted us in Italian and gestured for us to return the greetings. She avoided using English as much as possible. Whenever we were leaning new words or phrases, she would demonstrate and say, “Ripetete.”

Other than teaching Italian, Dr. Jackson was also the Director of International Student Affairs at Kent State. She taught a few other music students before me. So, she already knew me and my work prior to having me in her class. I was the odd duck in that class—Asian and a decade older than the other students. Having a supportive teacher was comforting, to say the least.

After one semester of group instructions, I began independent study with Dr. Jackson. We worked on translations of operas: Barber of Seville and La traviata. I remember her explaining the meaning of the word traviata to me. The word is the past-participle of “traviare,” in feminine form. It comes from tra, meaning “in between,” “across,” “beyond,” and via, “road,” “way” and “path.” Hence, traviare means “to stray from the path.” La traviata is a woman who’s lost her way. She would read the verses with me, showing me the flow of the sound—the built-in rhythm of the Italian language in sync with word stresses.

She was extremely encouraging and helpful in my planning to study in Perugia. Later, she joined my dissertation committee. Before my final defense, Dr. Shindle struck up a conversation with her, realizing that she was the fellow student at Indiana University who helped him with Italian texts in his dissertation. Life goes in circles.

Dr. Jackson came to the States at an early age. Because of her experiences adjusting to new environment and cultures, she understood the challenges of international students. She assisted students in immigration matters and their needs while studying at Kent. She held cross-cultural events involving local community. For some reasons, I always ran into unexpected immigration issues. She was with me every step of the way.

In her heart, Dr. Jackson was through-and-through Italian. She cared for her two boys as well as her students like an Italian mamma. She cooked delicious Italian dishes. She never stopped educating people about Italian language, films and music. From her, I saw the possibility of establishing a life in the States while maintaining my cultural identity. Sadly, she passed away twelve years ago. I treasured the time that we spent together.