You know you've hit Vintage when you get together with a group of your buddies to give another buddy a send-off. This is a part of being Vintage that really sucks.

Growing up, I frequently associated with people 10, 20, 30 or more years my senior, and called them friends. So now, at 41, I'm seeing a number of them pass away. Today we paid tribute to the second of two friends to pass away in a two month period by gathering to sing at the funeral mass.

Many of us singing today were part of the Cleveland Lithuanian Men's Octet that existed for over 30 years. I was invited in after one member passed away suddenly. He was considered by all of us to be the best second tenor in the Lithuanian community; I was honored to take his place. I travelled with them for a series of concerts in Lithuania many years ago, and quite a number of concerts in the US. Previous to that, most of us were in the then-largest Lithuanian choir outside of Lithuania, which began in Lithuania before WWII. When most of the members needed to escape the country during the second Soviet occupation, they re-formed in Germany, gave many performances to US troops, and eventually relocated to Cleveland, where I joined them. I was probably about 8 or 10 years old when I joined the orchestra, playing the recorder and a horn somewhat similar to a clarinet. I later joined the choir as a second tenor, where I first really got to know everyone. I was a member for about 18 years until the choir finally disbanded after the death of the founder (my 'father' in music, I like to say).

5 members of the original octet are still alive. We all got together for a quick rehearsal last night, along with a couple men from the other choir to round out the voices, and sang this morning at the mass. We were all surprised how good it sounded, considering we had not sung together in over a decade, and I really didn't expect some of them to have any voice left at all. But we made music for our comrade. It wasn't perfect - we wouldn't win any vocal competitions, but I think we touched the sublime. It was a fitting tribute.

I've really missed singing with those guys. The opportunity to do it one more time made this a very bittersweet event.

Sorry for the long post. I needed to talk.

I feel old.

Jonas

 

Jonas,

Please accept my condolences on the loss of your friend. I know that it is difficult to accept the mortality of those close to you. In this case, he was your senior. It unfortunately gets more difficult when people that are younger than you start passing away.

IMO, that is when I really started feeling a sense of my own mortality. (note my signature about my friend Kimi)

I think that it is very cool that both you and your lovely wife have been blessed with the talent of wonderful singing voices.

Please let the warm memories of your friend live in your heart and mine forever.

Best regards,
Matt

 

I dream of dying,at age 101,assassinated by a jealous husband.

 

Jonas,


Sorry about your friend.

In 2003 we went to many wakes and funerals for both family and friends. It's sad and emotionally taxing.

I also remember years before when my 41 year old cousin died of cancer. I remember my Dad commenting that it would be hard on my cousins and me since it was the first death of one of "our generation".

He was right. It's never easy.

Hang in there.

 

Not to make light of your grief Jonas, but death is a part of life.

I am reminded of a Tonight Show with Johnny Carson when he use to take questions from the audience. On night, someone filled out the little card in the audience with the question how would you like to die? And he responded: By
afixiation


When Ed McMahon questioned him on that, he responded from the fumes of blowing out his candles on his 140th birthday cake. :-)

Unfortunately the king of late night comedy did not get his wish.

I miss him.

 

Jonas,

I am sorry for your pain. I believe your friend has passed on to another stage of his life. I know that probably doesn't make the loss any easier to take for those left "here", but it is my personal belief. And you're not old. Age is such a relative thing when you think of it in terms of eternity and our soul living on. My .02. You have my number. Call any time.

Carm

 

Thanks, folks.

I wasn't especially close to him, far from it, but the comraderie of a small group of guys who made music together is very special to me, and I miss it, and this event brought that home too. You get to know the guys pretty well - weeks and weeks of rehearsals, travelling, parties, bad performances, good performances. I feel like I expect old war buddies feel as they, one by one, slip away. The ones still alive salute the ones who have died.

I know I'm not old. Just one of those days that adds a little more age than 24 hours can account for.

Onward.

JonasM

 

Humour is an excellent defense against grief. You wouldn't believe the jokes at the deceased's expense we were making during the funeral (that's what I like about choir lofts - you don't need to look 'proper' all the time), some that would be considered quite tasteless if it was not among friends.

My favorite was when we noticed that the symbol on the shroud draped over the coffin looked just like the symbol on your VCR Remote that says "Dead Battery".



JonasM

 

^ You are right...a well developed sense of humor can get you through most anything. That's why I like a celebration of life when someone passes away. Lots of food, drink and good stories. You and your friend are in my thoughts today.

 

Jonas,

What a beautiful and fitting tribute to sing for your friend at his funeral. It is one of those 'heart moments' where you feel life and loss so deeply.
I am 42 and lost my older brother (43) and father (76) this past year. My brother's death was devastating and like others have said, because it is 'our' generation.
My father loved his country and flew a flag on a flagpole in front of his house every day it didn't rain. He folded it each night in military form.
On the day of his burial, the hearse drove past his house. I went there early that morning and hung his flag at half mast; honoring him.
It's the little things that mean so much.
My father was a cornet player---and like you paid tribute to your friend with your voice, I asked an accomplished trumpeter to play dad's cornet at his funeral mass. It was a nice instrument, kept in wonderful condition, even though it hadn't been played in decades. When we walked in to the church, it was being tuned to the organ---I got chills hearing it played again, after so many years had passed. The recessional was "Amazing Grace" and the combination of the trumpet and organ in the acoustics of the church were phenomenal. I wept the whole time, knowing my father's cornet was honoring him. (it's also one of my favorite religious songs).
The trumpeter also played "Taps" at the grave side, on my father's cornet.
My father's last surviving brother wept both times. He came to me later and commented on how meaningful it was. He had played trombone in a marching band with dad---so it brought back childhood memories.

BTW--loved the comment about the 'dead battery' symbol. I believe it was not a coincidence. Humor is healing.

Celebrate life!