I made the following comment to a friend’s Facebook entry, where she was emphasizing the importance of singing and choirs in our lives:
“My father was a great singer. He would take his pipe out of his mouth, stick it still lit I fear into his pocket, clear his throat, get the A from the piano player (or some such note) and burst out into his rich warm baritone. He would do this because all the aunts had cried out, “Oh, Bill, please sing us something!” And then they would join, their bosoms heaving, and the whole house, along with candles, seemed ready to lift into the night sky and disappear forever.”