It is June 1990 and Kate Munger is at a hospital in Inverness, California, at the bedside of a friend who is in a coma, dying of HIV/AIDS. She is feeling afraid, and so she sings the song that always gives her courage. As she repeats the song over and over, giving “generously of my essence to my dear friend,” she notices she feels more calm, and she observes that her friend is far less agitated than when she arrived. Several years later she is driving home from Montana and she begins to sing to express her compassion for the dead animals she sees on the roadside. In March of 2000 Munger puts these two “moments” together and assembles a group of women to be the first Threshold Choir, with a mission of “Singing for those at the threshold of life.” Now, through grassroots growth, there are 200 chapters worldwide, among them the Threshold Choir at Indian Hill Music School in Littleton.
Each Threshold Choir chapter is rooted in its local community while also being an important part of the shared community as an international organization, according to its website. The singers share a culture of compassion and respect for individuals at the threshold. All Threshold Choirs sing from the same repertoire in an official songbook and begin all songs with an introductory line sung by their music director. The songs tend to be simple, with a lot of repetition. People can hear one Threshold Choir and be certain that the principles will be the same at any other they attend or suggest to someone else. The singers, in a group of three, go to a bedside only when invited by family, friend, a hospice organization, hospital, or care facility. There is always a professional or family member in the room with the singers.
All of these principles were in play at the Threshold Choir rehearsal I attended at Indian Hill in mid-August. I went out of interest and curiosity. Those were satisfied, but I also experienced unforeseen profound and memorable moments.
I spent time before the rehearsal with Suzanne Buell of Littleton County Road, who is the administrative coordinator of the Indian Hill group. She maintains the music rosters and handles requests for singers. She said she never knows how many requests there will be at a given time. Buell said the choir has a great relationship with local hospitals, and caregivers know the choir very well and can tell which patients might like the service and whether the family would be receptive. “It is a raw and humbling experience to share that moment with families,” said Buell. Sometimes there are family dynamics to maneuver, but “when it works, it’s magical. That’s why we do this,” she added. She avowed that the singers get back more than they give.
Although Buell had told me that the twice monthly rehearsals provide training for emotional experiences, I was having trouble believing that the singers wouldn’t just fall apart at the bedside of a dying person. As I witnessed more and more of the rehearsal, I understood why they didn’t.
Buell introduced me to the group of 13 or so women and one man sitting in a circle and to Charlotte Russell of Littleton, music director, and Susan Randazzo of Groton, executive director and one of the founders of Indian Hill. Russell invited me to sit next to her and to join in the singing. I assured her that no one would want me to try to sing, a truth I have long known and long regretted. Russell sang a line of melody, “Open My Heart,” and voices joined in repeating the same words, with variations of notes. Russell then asked singers to look at their books to sing it again with “fine tuning” and three parts, “embracing those dissonances,” and then once more in rounds, “to really learn it.” It was all very beautiful and calming.
Offering, receiving are different
“Offering a song is one experience; receiving it is another,” Russell said, asking who would like to sit in the “comfy chair.” A woman raised her hand, saying she hadn’t done it yet, and climbed into the green lounge-like chair in the middle of the circle. Three people stepped forward to sing to her, harmonizing in three parts. The recipient seemed very relaxed and gave them a smile and a soft “thank you” as she got out of the chair.
The Threshold Choir practices a piece. (Courtesy photo)
After practicing a couple of different ways to sing “The Lone Wild Bird,” one with a single voice singing the words while the rest accompanied her with the melody not in words but in the sounds of “ooooh,” Russell commented that the song would be “good when we get a request for someone who really liked nature.” These words seemed a reminder of the mission, that some of the singers will be at the bedsides of terminally ill or dying people. Again Russell set a realistic situation when she said, “Think of a time in your life when you would want people together in a spirit of kindness,” as the group began to sing “Gather Us Together.” I was beginning to see how the singers become strong and unified in a feeling of compassion as they sing the songs. “We’re in servicing mode; it’s not about us,” Randazzo had said earlier.
And then it happened. Russell asked me if I would like to receive “Gather Us Together” in the comfy chair. By then I was feeling a respect and trust for these singers. Even though they were mostly strangers, I felt they would be sincere and respectful to me. But I didn’t foresee what more there might be. I climbed somewhat awkwardly into the chair, and someone helped me tilt it back at the appropriate angle. As the three who had volunteered began the words, I felt a bit self-conscious. Soon, though, I relaxed and then closed my eyes. Suddenly the room was filled with the melody of “ooh ooh ooh.” I felt the powerful sound, stronger than the words, resonating all through me and as I sank deeper into it, I felt my body almost lifting and myself melting, diffusing outward. Tears welled. I opened my eyes to the peaceful faces above me. It was a truly extraordinary experience. I shared what I had felt, and people nodded and smiled and gave no comments, asked no questions.
A blessing
During the break, I spoke briefly with Fran Hunt of Westford, who had just been recognized for doing 50 bedside sings, of which she said, “It’s a blessing to know I’m providing a comfort.” She told me the story of how the chapter at Indian Hill began. In 2007, her friend, Pam Espinosa, with whom she sang in a church choir, was in a doctor’s office, waiting to see whether she had a recurrence of breast cancer. She picked up a copy of Real Simple magazine and happened to flip open to a story about Kate Munger and the Threshold Choir. She made a vow that if she had a clear bill of health, she would start a chapter here on the East Coast. Later she asked Hunt, another teacher at Indian Hill, to start it with her. Randazzo told me it had been an “easy yes” when they brought the idea to her because it perfectly fit Indian Hill Music’s mission: “Shares the transformative power of music … giving music generously when there is need.” To Randazzo’s knowledge, Indian Hill is the only community music school that sponsors a Threshold Choir.
Buell, who was teaching kindermusik at Indian Hill, took over for Espinosa when she “passed the torch” in 2010. Buell explained that most requests are for bedside singers, sometimes for a memorial service. Of the bedside singers, one is the anchor who decides what songs in what order, cues either unison or harmony, and starts each song. Usually a group sings about 10 songs. Buell said it’s “very much a feel thing,” and sometimes it’s hard to tell whether to keep going or to stop. The most important thing is to be in the moment and take your cue from the family, she said. While the preparation is for bedside singing, members of the group may choose never to do that. The challenge for any nonprofit group is to maintain volunteers, to keep the group stable and active. “We pass with flying colors,” said Buell, noting Indian Hill is one of the longest-lasting chapters of Threshold Choir so far, with 30 members, 20 or more who regularly attend rehearsals.
Sending light
“It’s time to send light to people who need lifting,” said Russell in starting up after the break. Various members told stories of their visits to the bedside, of how rewarding it was to be of service and to know how much family members appreciated their presence. One story was of going to a nursing home where a woman was all alone at the end of a hall in semi-darkness. “We bore witness,” said the speaker. Russell lightened the mood by telling of her visit to a bedridden woman who used to be a singer. She clapped after each song and kept asking them for more, including her favorite song, “You Are My Sunshine.” Stories of friends who were ill or were waiting for word of someone in critical condition expanded to mention of victims of California’s fires and Parkland students returning to school. Russell interrupted the stories periodically for the group to respond with compassion in the refrain, “I am sending light to heal you/I am sending light to hold you in love.”
At the end of the two-hour rehearsal, we all stood in a tight circle and sang:
When the weight of the world gets heavy,
And trouble rolls in like the tide,
May we stand up and help each other
Find comfort where love abides.
