Recruiting, Part 1: Predicting the future

There was a kid whose parents sang in the church choir. The kid ended up sitting in church with a sweet, grandmotherly lady on the front row. This sweet, grandmotherly lady’s daughter played the 9-rank Greenwood pipe organ. She never missed a note.

The little kid eventually developed the habit of running up to the console during the postlude, after which he would be allowed to turn everything off, close the console and lock it up. (Later, I’ll launch a blog post on the evils of locking up a console, but for now, just stay with the story.)

Eventually, this kid became the organist’s official page turner for big deals. And eventually, he was allowed to visit the organ chambers. And then the day came when he was invited to play the organ for Men’s Sunday.

The sheer bliss of all that as the kid recounted it to me cannot be captured in typed words. You’d have to talk to him to get it.

On the other hand, I’ll bet that most professional organists know a kid like that. We have seen how being allowed to approach the throne of one of the most sophisticated and beguiling musical instruments ever invented may hook a kid for life.

But let’s not stop at the seduction of the organ itself. Let’s give credit to the organist and the minister of music, who through their hospitality allowed this kid the thrill of his life in becoming familiar with the organ and with many photos of famous organs all over the world. Thanks to these people, we have another organist in the world.

I have adopted that same model in my own recruiting. Not only do I allow any and all visitors up to the console after church, but I blatantly advertise that opportunity. I have been fortunate to have played historic instruments for several years, and so I have written little informational brochures on the organs, which end with bold type proclaiming the console open to all, especially children.

I predict that at least one in five kids who are allowed to approach the organ, operate it, and eventually play it, will become an organist. I predict that with confidence, for I watched it work with this kid and many others over the years. And let’s acknowledge that it’s not that difficult – all I have to do is make the console available and let the console do the work from there. A kid's eyes grow wider with every new discovery on it.

Names in our story today will not be changed to protect the innocent. Names are proudly laid out here in grateful thanks for those people's hospitality and belief in young people:

The church was the Front Street Baptist Church of Statesville, NC.

The Minister of Music was the Rev. Paul McManus, now at Boiling Springs Baptist Church in Boiling Springs, NC.

The organist was Mrs. Joan Privette Welborn, later Benfield, now happily Connor, retired and living it up in Wilkesboro, NC.

Joan’s sweet, grandmotherly mother was Mrs. Hoyt (Hattie) “Hassie” Privette. May she rest in peace.

And the kid was me.

Join the club

I am utterly fascinated by a church congregation as a sociological body. The behavior of humans in a church setting closely resembles that of an ancient tribe and a modern-day country club at the same time.

I’m thinking of the church that is fiscally and liturgically conservative. The neo-Gothic building is beautiful and well-tended. The choir is healthy and feeds the congregation a regular diet of well-written, well-prepared music. The organ is complete and lovely, and the organist is top-notch. And everyone wears suits and dresses to church. But the thick, wall-to-wall carpet in the sanctuary is as sacred as anything God might ever have said. And since that carpet was so expensive, it’s not coming up any time soon. Likewise the pew cushions and the enormous Oriental rug in the chancel. I am way past being horrified to just being fascinated by the sociological implications of such an inconsistent way of doing things. Back in Medieval days, when architecture, acoustics and high liturgical drama took off, there was no such thing as carpet. How is it, then, that carpet became as necessary to tradition and conservatism as formal prayers, despite its acoustical destruction of congregational community?

I’m thinking of the conservative, non-liturgical church that begins its services with a contemporary “Good morning” exchange between pastor and congregation. Now what’s REALLY funny is that when the people have been quieted down to have this exchange and have been told of some important announcements, they are then invited to “stand and greet one another.” But they had already been doing that with great enthusiasm during the organ prelude!! This I find fascinating. How does a conservative congregation allow these informal dinner-party elements into the service without so much as a whimper? A friend of mine always said, “Do something two weeks in a row, and it becomes a tradition.”

I’m thinking of the church still using the hymnal published in the 1950s. One hymnal has been published since, and another is in the works. What is it that makes a congregation so resistant to change? And what will happen when those who were resistant before are no longer around? Will resistance to a new hymnal simply become another tradition that must be blindly maintained?

I’m thinking of the church where the hymnal is sitting pretty in the racks, but the bulletins are being typeset with every word of every hymn text. Fully 98% of the congregation is singing all hymns from that bulletin while the hymnal collects dust. That is a contemporary development in worship, and this conservative congregation apparently sees it not.

But anyone who raises Cain about any of the above gradually gets put out to pasture. People who make excessive waves in a society get the boot; they get voted off the board; they get invited to find somewhere else to go; they get run off the reservation, run out of the tribe, kicked out of the club, blackballed, run out of town, fired. That is a sociological issue; it occurs all the time in business, in fraternities and at the country club. In days of old, it was called Exile on pain of death. And to see it put into practice in these modern ways is at once captivating and scary.

Another conservative/contemporary conflict lies in the training of new members: “This is how we…” “We expect…” “Membership here carries responsibilities in…” Other churches have rejected that, claiming that membership in Christ’s church requires faith, not works. I also know that every church is a country club of sorts, no matter how one might protest to the contrary. Membership in anything requires certain behavior, certain dress code, an oath, and dues. And the church will even administer an oath to new members in front of the congregation.

Membership in anything requires responsibility, which is where the training becomes necessary. Did those new members grow up to understand the importance of tithing? Were they informed of ministry opportunities within the church? Were they informed that the congregation frowns on blue jeans in church?  Do they know the denomination's history and current stance on major issues? How do they know if you don’t train them? I don’t think it’s too much to ask a new member of a church to accept the fact that membership carries responsibility and to train them accordingly. Although the worship service is open to all, membership carries a bit of scrutiny for the sake of preserving the body, the group, the denomination. That is sociological. And necessary.

How many churches do you play for, really?

An elder member of a liturgically conservative church met with her pastor to make the plea that “we ought to offer an alternative service, since every other church is doing it.” The pastor replied, “Madam, traditional worship IS the alternative these days, and that’s what we will continue to offer.”

I know a wonderful fellow who serves as his church’s administrator and director of music. He swears that while he is on staff, that church will never start a second worship service. He will not split the congregation into two groups that could turn into two factions. They are all one family, and as long as they all fit into one room for one service, that’s how it will be. People who wish to shop around may certainly do so; his point is that there will be no surprises at that church on his watch.

I am torn. I agree with the premise of the illustrations above and appreciate the courage of the leaders to keep their flocks together in one style of worship for one congregation. But I know that some churches are too small to allow people to leave and go shopping elsewhere if they can’t get what they want there. But I also know that congregations that have split up into different worship styles inevitably drift into Us-vs.-Them mentality, usually driven by attendance numbers. The more heavily attended service is deemed the hipper one, and the other one is eventually deemed a necessary evil until it dies off.

While I appreciate the necessity of a church’s marketing strategy, I feel that we drift into dangerous territory when we insist that people be comfortable in church and that we should design something they enjoy and are attracted to. Just whom is being worshipped? I’ve said it before, but when we’re eventually standing in the presence of the Almighty, I doubt we’re going to be very comfortable or chatty. It seems that being in the invisible presence of the Almighty in church ought to carry some mystery, as well. We ought to engage the quiet brain cells, the ones designed for contemplation of eternal beings and concepts, not just those brain cells looking for a Sunday morning ecclesiastical version of a video game.

I commend those old-school “Organist/Choirmasters.” It was new territory for them to be expected to incorporate praise choruses and non-traditional styles into a traditional liturgy. Many Organist/Choirmasters became or gave way to Directors of Music. And even then it was difficult for them to oversee multiple styles of worship each Sunday, let alone participate in all services. Soon, the responsibilities were split up between a “Director of Music” and a “Director of [contemporary service name].”

And I am torn once again. I appreciate a church’s need to demonstrate itself as a complete worship center, with traditional and contemporary worship. But I also see the factions that form. I see members of the same church who have never met, because they attend different services. I don’t see a church family; I see a church full of individuals. I don’t see unity; I see the constant threat of people leaving to “go shopping” if that church doesn’t deliver the goods. I don’t hear two different sermons; I hear a traditional sermon hipped up for the contemporary service, or I hear a hip sermon straitjacketed for the traditional service.

A funeral director friend once told me his funeral home conducts 350 services each year. Then he corrected himself: “Actually, we don’t conduct 350 services each year. We conduct one service 350 times.” How difficult it must be to infuse different worship styles with enough staff, enough energy, enough difference each week to make them meaningful! How difficult it must be to keep a different style alive for the 20 people who still attend it. How easy it is to let the different styles drift into essential sameness and still call them different.

And I am torn again. While I’ll give plenty of credit to those churches that pull it off each week, I’ll also quietly lament the loss of unchanging worship of an unchanging God. I celebrate the diversity but lament the lameness of sameness that contemporary worship exhibits from church to church. It is nigh unto impossible to guess the denomination of a contemporary service. But it is even more frighteningly impossible sometimes to guess the denomination of a traditional service, and that is where I feel we’re losing heritage and history.

Come on, folks – stay in the game. You already have a plan handed down from your denominational forbears; don’t try to stray too far from it while you're inventing new wheels. Be what the sign out front says you are, whether Methodist, AME Zion, Presbyterian, Episcopal or Holy Cow.

Famous first words

My first church job in grad school was Episcopal. Although I did not grow up in that tradition, I quickly converted and easily got used to services that began with, “Blessed be God: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.” When I visited my hometown for the first time after moving away for grad school, I was reminded that church back home still begins with “MARNIN’!”

Now, “MARNIN’!” was never shocking to me as a kid, but it was shocking after a time of hearing “Blessed be God…”. By contrast, “Blessed be God…” was never shocking to me, ever.

The first words uttered from the leader to the assembly might define the nature of the service to follow. What you hear may be what you get for the next hour. I like that consistency, and I like knowing up front whether I’ll be able to survive the next hour if there is not a decent chance to escape before it’s over.

I am not seeing informal churches move toward a more prescribed format; rather, I am seeing an erosion of formality in other churches. Some congregations who were used to a ceremonial service before are now allowing “Good morning” in, yea even responding to it in kind as if it were always that way. And we’re talking about just the first words of the service here! We could go on and on from there regarding such things as where to put the announcements, the use or willful ignorance of the lectionary, what the prelude is for, what the anthem (“choir special”) is for, etc.

But could it be that church must begin in some corners with “MARNIN’!” [or the more tame but equally offensive “Good morning”] and others must begin with, “Would the owner of license plate number…,” or, “Will the parents of…”? Many churches begin worship with silence. Others habitually begin late (which is itself a statement of how the service might go from there). Others begin with announcements, including the singing of Happy Birthday for those who celebrated birthdays that week.

It would appear that the things that drive some people crazy may be to others essential for worship. Could it be that we are all different? Yes, it certainly could. Not every church will thrive with a certain style of worship. But worship should be defined by the congregation at hand in the form of mandates from their elected governing bodies, not by the speakers of the first words. Congregations need to be allowed to be what they are. Is it a traditional Episcopal congregation? Then the service is prescribed to begin a certain way. Is it a traditional Southern Baptist congregation in North Carolina? Then there is more flexibility. Although I am certain that “Marnin’!” and Happy Birthday will never induce a spirit of worship within me, I won’t begrudge them for the congregation who does find them meaningful.

Ultimately, a congregation needs to decide what it will be, then be it. And the worship leaders need to stop apologizing for being formal or informal. Just be what you’re supposed to be, and worship accordingly. When in doubt, err toward a spirit of worship. I really don’t think we’ll blurt out “Marnin’!” when we’re standing at the pearly gates.

Convention addiction

I am about to come full circle with AGO conventions. The Nashville chapter will host the national convention in 2012. And it was at a regional convention in Nashville in 1995 that I first saw the light on conventions.

That being my first AGO convention, the memories of it are as fresh as if I had just returned home from it yesterday. I will never forget seeing in the flesh many familiar faces attached to people I had never met. I will never forget learning that Nashville is certainly not all country-western. I will never forget a thrilling doxology improvisation by Tim Smith at West End Methodist. I will never forget the fine performance of the St. George’s Choir at the Cathedral of the Incarnation. I will never forget the opening service sung by the West End Methodist choir and AGO president James Moeser’s timely and uncompromising address on the state of church music. And I will NEVER, EVER forget Norman Mackenzie’s hair-raising performance of the Jongen Symphonie-Concertante at St. George’s with the Nashville Symphony conducted by Kenneth Schermerhorn.

Wonderful performances and hearing new instruments are only half a convention. The other half is the people. It is roaming the exhibit halls, visiting with friends and colleagues and making new friends. This I love. On it I thrive. For it I pay hundreds of dollars in registration fees and travel expenses each year.

Conventions happen on a much smaller scale, too. They tend to be impromptu and occur when organists are on the road during the year. I have been in San Antonio this week judging a competition and playing a recital. Last night, I had a delightful dinner and catch-up session with Faythe Freese, Jesse Eschbach, Tom Dooling, and Jae Ha. The night before, I had a similar session with David Heller. Tonight, I’ll have a similar session with Madolyn Fallis and whomever she finds to join us. Tomorrow, I head to Rochester, Minn., to play another recital. And in between snowstorms there, I’ll enjoy some more mini-conventions with Gary Thorn and company. I will return home exhausted and refreshed at the same time.

Of course, this zeal for conventions and the exchange of ideas carries over into my teaching. As much as possible, I drag students to recitals and organ crawls. The visiting with each other is as thrilling as the organs we visit, and I hope that the fire for more is lit from there.

The only problem is that conventions are expensive! What about inviting your church or school to underwrite a student’s attendance at one?

Half Windsor, one dimple: Musings on daily attire

When it comes to dressing up, I am a bit of a clotheshorse. My father taught me the full Windsor knot. As I came to hate thick fabric and big knots, I discovered the half Windsor. Then a mentor taught me the dimple. My necktie of choice ever since has been of a medium to thin fabric, tied in a half Windsor with a single dimple. But when I’m off duty, I’m in jeans, shirttail hanging out, tennis shoes, alumni cap, the works. But I think I have finally reached the point where a suit is more comfortable -- psychologically -- than jeans and a T-shirt.

I teach in coat and tie every day, just like my forefathers in this institution did. I feel a certain kinship with them when I do that. Also, I was once a student in these hallowed halls, and so a different “uniform” helps me remember my place as a faculty member rather than as a boisterous student. (That doesn’t always help, because I routinely engage in "lively" conversation with the Phi Mu Alpha boys over the good old days.)

There are written rules in society on what is considered proper attire: 1) Headwear is not allowed in a courtroom, out of respect for the court. 2) Ushers at the Riverside Church used to wear morning coats and white gloves. 3) I have seen dress code spelled out for ushers in some churches I have played for. 4) Back in the day when I was toying with attending funeral directing school, I saw dress codes spelled out for guest lecture days. 5) We all encounter work uniforms every day among such folks as campus housekeeping staff, McDonald’s employees, phone repairmen, Boy Scout leaders, football players, and prep school students.

But there are also unwritten rules regarding attire. How does the President know to wear a suit every day? Is that rule written down somewhere? What would happen if the President showed up for a press conference in shorts and a T-shirt? Perhaps a person’s choice of position or career dictates the dress code. I would find it strange for the pastor of a large urban church to show up each day without having cleaned up after his morning jog. But that rule is probably not written down; it would be followed as a matter of course and out of a sense of propriety for the position. I have chosen to adopt the coat/suit and tie as my teaching “uniform” and when practicing onsite for a recital away from home.

Long ago, I started feeling a little weird wearing jeans to church, even on Wednesday nights. Perhaps I felt like I needed to impress someone. Or perhaps I felt like I needed to look as respectable as possible in the presence of the Almighty. Of course, the two camps on that are diametrically opposed: "we need to look our best in the presence of God" vs. "God accepts us just as we are, and we are but dust without him, so why put on airs with attire?"

No solution offered for that here. I’ll just say that a brief look around in a given situation will tell you what's appropriate. If our individuality is a gift from God, then so is a sense of propriety in all situations.

I feel that casual dress in some situations equals a too-casual approach, one more than I am comfortable exercising. I have encountered far too many people who say when confronted with the prospect of wearing a suit, “Oh, that’s just not me.” They tend to apologize for wearing a suit – not by stating the apology aloud but rather by wearing, say, Birkenstocks with the suit.

“That’s just not me?” Well, sometimes things just aren’t about you, are they! Claim your position and a sense of propriety, and tie that Windsor up!

Wrong notes in the Vierne Sixth?

One is guaranteed to encounter questionable notes in the heavily chromatic music of a nearly-blind organist writing with a large blue crayon before the days of Finale and Sibelius. And, of course, we are no longer able to ask the composer about suspected errata and whether those errors might have been his or the engraver's. This post will be of interest to very few readers, with my apologies, but I just can’t stand it any more! I’m convinced of the following errata in Vierne’s Sixth Symphony for organ and have to share my findings with someone! I have also posted my program notes for this piece here.

[Page/Score/Measure/Beat/Limb: Suggested correction]

12/2/1/3/LH: b natural, like 12/1/2/6 and 12/1/3/6?

16/1/3/5/Ped: e-flat, to match similar half-step relations in preceding 2 measures?

20/1/2/4/LH: second eighth a-flat, to match 19/5/3? I go back and forth on this one.

20/2/1,3/4/LH: pattern altered. Why?

22/3/4/6/RH: d, to match similar half-step relations of all preceding RH figures? I go back and forth on this one.

22/4/2/1,3/RH: a natural rather than c natural, to match intervals in all other counterparts: 23/1/1/1,3 and 26/4/2/1,3 and 27/1/1/1,3?

23/1/3/2/RH: e-sharp to match similar passages such as 22/4/4/ and 26/4/4/ and 27/1/3?

25/4/5/1/LH: f-natural, to match intervals in 30/1/1/? The courtesy/cautionary sharp sign seems unnecessary.

26/2/1/6/LH: f-sharp, to match intervals in 22/2/1/4?

26/3/1/5/RH: d-sharp to match intervals in 22/3/1?

26/3/2/1/LH: completely different intervals from 22/3/2. Why?

26/3/3/5/RH: half-step relation missing. Why?

27/1/3/5/RH: b-sharp, to match diminished intervals in 22/4/4/ and 23/1/3 and 26/4/4/?

27/3/3/2-3/LH: different intervallic relations from all other similar passages: 23/2/2-3, 23/3/2-3 and 27/2/2-3. Why?

45/1/1/2/Ped: octave motion inverted. Why?

45/1/1/2/LH-RH: eighth rests; all others sixteenth, such as at 45/1/5 and 45/3/4, and others.

Why train organists?

Situation: The organ is a beloved avocation for a great many players and a full-time profession for others. Both of those groups do many of the same jobs: service playing, recital presentation, wedding music, collaboration with singers and consorts, even teaching. So why bother to train organists when the untrained make the money, too (sometimes more than the fully trained)?

Situation: Perhaps the organ is the most readily lucrative instrument of all. Pre-teens (and younger) often play for their church. Thousands of churches worldwide are in desperate need of someone (sometimes anyone) who can play for services. Many people are pressed into service with trepidation; yet before long, weddings and soloists begin mounting up, and soon the amateur organist is working professionally. So why bother to train organists if it is a self-building enterprise?

Situation: In many cases, one’s abilities at the organ are self-taught and self-apparent and require only small amounts of focus at a time to improve. So why bother to train organists?

Situation: The organ is used most of the time as a solo or single collaborative instrument. An organist’s performance life is often a solitary one. So why bother to train organists?

Solution: As it turns out, there is room for all. The organ and its various organizations support players across the entire spectrum, from the most amateur admirer to the most talented recitalist. Conventions of the American Guild of Organists, the Organ Historical Society, and the American Theater Organ Society are regularly attended by all kinds. (Yes, we get all kinds. But in the good way. Okay, we get them in the other ways, too.)

Solution: The organ is both avocation and art. Those who have not had formal training can still enjoy meaningful careers in other spheres and play the organ according to their abilities and semi-professional requirements. Those who wish to pursue it as a career or a high art form know who they are and ought to be encouraged to do so. I am fortunate to have been able to do both, the fact of which becomes the springboard into my teaching philosophies and goals. Twenty-one years after graduating from college, I still marvel that I am able to get paid for pursuing what I love.

Many students arrive in college and even graduate school with little more than their love for the organ. Only a few are fortunate to have taken the time to hone their abilities, rather than merely amass a repertoire list. The thrill of the organ’s sonic power and ease of tone production often overcome the sense of duty to improve technique. Put another way, playing loud and playing a lot tend to overshadow playing well. My number one priority is to teach students how to practice. Teaching them “how to fish” seems to me a greater service than merely letting them regularly open up the piece of their choice and start plowing indiscriminately. Plowing is fun but is not for public consumption.

I love seeing students uncover their abilities and their horizons simply from observing more closely their technique of organ playing. To do so allows them to see – and more importantly, hear – the difference between good playing and artistic playing. From there, they are better equipped to learn the next piece, and their love for the instrument -- and for recruiting -- grows.

The Rule of Law vs. Compassion: performance competitions as a reflection of teaching

It’s time for me to decompress and debrief after six years of service on the committee for the AGO National Young Artists Competition in Organ Performance:

The Aircraft Owners and Pilots Association’s motto for pilots-in-training says, “A good pilot is always learning.” This implies that the licensed pilot is far from finished with training, and I believe the same is true for teachers. While we hope for learning on the student’s part, learning is virtually unavoidable for the teacher.

Another layer to this concept lies in running a competition, which I discovered requires as much teaching from me as it offers new lessons for me. My work with NYACOP afforded me many glimpses into organ studios nationwide. I learned much about today's organ pedagogy, today’s generation of students, and myself. I have also learned that the scenarios in teaching AND competition administrating are often interchangeable:

I. Most competitors’ [or students’] questions will be answered by the rules [or syllabus]. Write the rules carefully. I have seen ignorance of the rules indicate everything from a moment of innocent forgetfulness to an abiding, blatant disrespect of all authority. Rules are not usually considered interesting reading, and many people are not driven to read them until a crisis occurs that could have been prevented by knowing the rules better. Write your rules carefully, and follow them. Bright young minds will always discover loopholes in even the most longstanding or carefully written rules. Expect those, and keep track of them for clarification next time around.

II. Define your deadlines carefully. Will you impose a postmark deadline or an arrival deadline for competition applications? [Will you accept the assignment immediately after class, or is it due upon arrival to class?] Will online submissions be accepted if they are submitted after close-of-day on the due date? What will you do with the truly excellent but unfortunately day-late application or assignment? Woefully few people respect the difference between completing something at a certain time and completing it by a certain time. Deadlines are usually treated as hazy targets, at which sincere but sloppy aim is taken so that projects are completed only just in time, if not late. Murphy’s Law is real, and the eleventh hour is its life blood. How many times have we teachers walked into class and heard about the printer problems the students experienced for the assignment – on their way to class? Many people regard a deadline as the actual target, rather than as the fine (and therefore dangerous) line between being on time and being late.

III. Decide how fluid your parameters for compassion will be. Many incomplete competition applications lack only a letter of recommendation, ostensibly out of the applicant’s control (and perhaps representing some Murphy’s Law courtship on the part of the recommender??). Or the birth certificate, carefully set aside weeks ago, gets buried under some papers and does not make it into the application package. At the other extreme, I have seen incomplete applications come through as if to reserve a place at the table for the applicant, who writes, “I will overnight the rest of the materials later this week.” Some admissions offices, competition committees, hiring committees, and compassionate teachers accept late submissions. Airlines, drill sergeants, grant fund agencies, and the IRS do not. The real-world component of deadlines in a competition may be clear-cut, but extenuating circumstances (stolen wallets, hurricanes, and death, to name a few I’ve heard) can sometimes be compelling, and the committee vote on accepting or rejecting could go either way. The fulcrum between adherence to rules and compassion may move around as the competition progresses: more at first, less as the pressure builds into the final rounds, or vice-versa. Maintain a healthy balance between compassion and rigor on a case-by-case basis. The competition has to be run well, while at the same time fulfilling the lofty goal to jumpstart young careers. Forgiveness may make all the difference to the innocent, or it may make none to the habitual offender.

IV. Decide how important presentation is. Required application materials are usually clearly defined, but presentation is usually left open to interpretation. A competition board could “grade” applications like any other assignment requiring adherence to rules. We received everything from incomplete forms to copious information we did not request. We received recordings with neatly typed content titles inserted carefully into the CD case, and we received recordings whose titles were merely scribbled somewhere. We received recordings containing more pieces than requested, were inaudible, exceeded the time limit, or exhibited evidence of disallowed studio editing. Poor presentation may reflect anything from last-minute organization to a language barrier to an apparent lack of seriousness. To disqualify or to forgive – that is always the question.

V. Decide on – then demand – a high level of professionalism. There seems to be no end to the distractions young people invite into their lives. One competitor got married seven days after entering the competition; another entered an international contest at the same time; another was unreachable for three weeks after her application was accepted; and I once heard a newly-selected finalist say, “Well, I guess I’d better learn the finals music now.” One year, I had to remind competitors to answer my emails promptly and not to ignore calls from numbers they do not recognize. I regularly reminded competitors how to dress for live performance rounds. Performance competitions -- and careers -- are about a great deal more than just playing well.

VI. Avoid competition committee service if you care more about the rules than about the competitors. Rules are nice and neat in print, but then they have to be interpreted, enforced, and sometimes bent but never broken. Enter compassion. The opportunity for a competition director to provide gentle guidance for a young performer is daunting yet rewarding, but it could be perceived as an indictment of the competitor’s teacher. Exercise caution, but see it as the opportunity it is; students nearly always respond favorably to a good example.

VII. After the competition, decide if administration is still for you. It most certainly is not, thank you very much. I love teaching too much.

Reader has more on funeral fees

Part 2 of a 2-part series.

My friend Roy Roberts, Director for the AGO Committee on Career Development and Support and AGO Region IV Coordinator for Professional Development, has written the following comments on last week's post on funeral fees. I like it all! The time has long been ripe for this dialogue between organists and their churches. So everyone go and do thou likewise. Thanks, Roy!

Roy says:

"Instead of the funeral home establishing the charge, in my case, the church has done so.

"My employer [the church] issued a pamphlet from which people [families] also select readings, music, and overview of the Mass. Also included are total fees (not individual fees). The funeral home cuts a check for the total fees, made out to the church. The church cuts checks to the individuals and records the taxes. Should there be additional rehearsal time (strongly discouraged) then separate arrangements are made.

"Advantage to the church's making the arrangements are 1) if a fee were to change, the church issues a new memo with the new total, 2) Taxes are withheld by the employer (church), 3) The church remains in charge of the service (it is not shared with a funeral home or family who wants a Disney tune as a communion song), and more. For those who have a "day job", I would assert again that the church should be the one making the agreements with the funeral homes and the funeral homes cut checks to the church rather than the individual.

"A sticky wicket could arise if the funeral home is "cutting the check". What happens should a funeral home call Susan Jones to cover a funeral at your church where you are under contract to have first right of refusal? The home says, not our problem that is between you and Bedside Baptist. The church says, not our problem; Creepy Funerals called the other person.

"It seems for every solution, someone can come up with some kind of challenge. Great article. It is certainly a start; funeral homes, churches, and organists need to discuss this topic more often."