Tonight, my daughter sang in a holiday concert with a children’s choir. As those children sang “O Holy Night” I tried not to cry. There’s something about children singing and particularly about children singing Christmas hymns that just evokes all that emotion.
The concert also featured a Jewish men’s chorus and a celebration of Kwanzaa and an assortment of choirs and instruments.
One of my favorite details, though, was watching the man playing what looked like a string bass even though he was missing half of his ring finger.
I thought about both of my grandfathers. Each of them were missing a finger–an index finger for each of them, I believe. My maternal grandfather cut his own finger off with a saw, I think. I can’t remember how my paternal grandfather lost his finger.
I always found it kind of weird that both my grandfathers were missing a finger.
Anyway, I admired watching that man play that instrument despite that missing digit.
And if I weren’t so utterly exhausted, I might have some clever way to wrap up this post.
But I don’t.
The end.
Actual Unretouched Photo 
That looks like a cello to me, but that doesn’t matter. His accomplishment does.
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O Holy Night is my all-time favorite Christmas Carol
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LOVE O Holy Night. The high notes are simply gorgeous – especially if the singer can hit them in tune. On key. Or whatever.
Christmas music always reminds me of the “Christmas programs” we had at our church when I was young. They were filled with music, Daddy gave a brief message about the wonder of Christmas, then bags of candies and oranges were handed out to everyone. “Merry Christmas” was spoken from person to person, then out into the cold, dark night we went. But earlier, when it was still music time, I played the accordian (never had any lessons, nor did I know how to play it very well…..)and sang “Star of the East”. That might be a pretty song (though rarely heard these days), but sung poorly – by a young girl accompanying herself on an instrument she couldn’t play well – let’s just say it wasn’t very festive.
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With being in the choir, I get to hear my fair share of children’s voices. I never get tired hearing them. I am always touched
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Meant with Quintus being in the choir
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One of my uncles lost a finger years ago. This was always fascinating to me, as a child, shaking his hand.
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