Anyone who grew up with a close sibling knows that it can be wonderful or awful and sometimes both. Ours was both, but my older brother and I were tight, for better or worse. We fought, we played, we confided and we sang. As we grew older we never really stopped singing together, fighting for who got to sing the harmony, who was left with the melody. He become a very good jazz piano player and was the only Jew singing in the Petaluma gospel choir. I, on the other hand, preferred the structure of choruses singing serious works. We always went to hear each other, usually dragging our children with us. I have to admit, most of the kids really liked the lively gospel choir, and twitched a lot in my choruses. BCCO was no exception to this rule. He was healthy and should have lived a long time, I thought, but he didn’t. He got leukemia and died 5 years ago. I know its strange, but somehow by sheer habit, I still look for him at every concert. I sing the masses with him in mind. It’s no gospel choir and we were both atheists but somehow the music supersedes all of that.
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