Christmas Letter for 2008

                                                  2008
                         A year of momentous celebrations.
                         … and a few disappointing ordeals:
January -
• in which Megan’s mother Joan was here to visit
• in which we learned these momentous revelations about dear old Mum: she named Megan after a character in the book Apple Tree by Galsworthy; she is afraid of heights (has never been up Seattle’s Space Needle); and she went to a strip club on her 18th birthday (courtesy of the corrupting influence of her older sister)
February -
• in which we sang back-up (along with 700 others) for opera diva Dame Kiri Te Kanawa at an outdoor concert in the park
• in which we had a driveway party with our neighbours to wish Joan a bon voyage
• in which the school year began and Megan was back in a classroom teaching Social Studies and English, in addition to a little librarian work on the side
March -
• in which Austin (28) embarked on a Political Science degree
April -
• in which Megan tried a very British sport called bowls, which is similar to bowling only there are no pins to knock down, it’s played outdoors on perfect grass, and everyone wears white and keeps a stiff upper lip
May -
• in which Megan celebrated another birthday and disappointingly got another year older
• in which the newlyweds (Carlin and Kristen) living in Phoenix, got a new dog
June -
• in which we began a series of ascents of Auckland’s 50 volcanic cones – called mountains, but actually just hills a few hundred metres high
• in which we went to see the musical Priscilla, Queen of the Desert - good fun with outrageous costumes, plenty of ‘70s disco retrospective, and therapy for any latent homophobia
July -
• in which Megan bought a scooter and achieved notoriety among the students as the teacher on the red scooter riding around Auckland. Her coolness factor increased substantially
• in which Megan wanted to sing with a select group to welcome Condoleezza Rice’s visit to New Zealand, but was disappointingly rejected because they were recruiting young singers, despite being the only one who already knew the words to the American national anthem AND being able to sing in a fluent American accent
August -
• in which Nolan (26) announced he would be going to law school next year
• in which Boone (23) came to visit and to summit 8 mountains/volcanic cones/hills while here
• in which Boone played Scrabble against Curt 18 times during his 4 week visit – Boone won 12 times but that’s only because Curt disappointingly had “crap for letters”
• in which we had another driveway party to celebrate Boone’s visit, and then another
September -
• in which we went to our first rugby game, a truly Kiwi experience
• in which we stopped in Bellingham, WA on the way to England, and Curt delivered 3 original paintings as gifts to the boys:

• in which we spent 3 weeks in England to celebrate our 30th anniversary
• in which Megan was hit by a taxi in London while walking across the street. She survived with minor bruises; her beloved muffin was smashed in the ordeal
• in which we went to Bellingham, England and learned it’s pronounced Bell-in-jum there. Really.
October -
• in which we stopped in Portland, OR on our way home from England and saw Curt’s family, our old church family, and Megan’s old school (plus a special stop for Mrs. Fields cookies)
• in which we came home to learn that our church had failed miserably during our brief absence – first approving and then rejecting the appointment of a new pastor because she was gay. We were incensed, frustrated, and sorely disappointed over the ordeal
November -
• in which we gathered with our (Kiwi) neighbours to celebrate and offer a toast for the American election results
• in which we gathered with our Kiwi neighbours again 4 days later for the New Zealand election results
• in which Megan got hit by a car while riding on her scooter. She survived with a few cracked ribs and some minor scrapes and bruises; her beloved scooter got smashed in the ordeal
• in which Nolan and Erica announced their engagement and upcoming summer wedding
• in which Megan bought another scooter
• in which Curt finished 2 more paintings:








December -
• in which we write our clever Christmas letter

Kia ora! Boone here, I've been in New Zealand for a couple weeks now and Mom asked me to make a contribution to the blog so I'll let you all know some of the highlights of my 4-week trip thus far.

I left Vancouver, BC at 1pm on August 19th and landed in Auckland, NZ at 5am on August 21st. August 20th did not happen, I flew into the future. I started off my trip with lots of touristy stuff; I hit up the aquarium, the natural history museum, the zoo,



SkyTower,

and fed a lamb at SheepWorld.

On Tuesday I caught a train into town and then a ferry out to Rangitoto Island, a dormant volcano. I hiked to the top of the volcano and down into the crater, then explored some lava caves on the east side of the island (had to use the flash on the camera to see where I was going).



On Wednesday Mom and I drove out to Piha and climbed to the top of Lion Rock. She wasn't too keen on climbing but I talked her into it. You only live once.


On Thursday I drove 4 hours north to Paihia and found a hostel. I went for a quick afternoon kayak trip down the shore and back and came back to meet my flatmate, a rather talkative Kiwi named David and his lady friend, a Chilean girl named Katie. They introduced me to a few other people at the hostel including Elena from Germany and Fernanda from Brazil. We all went out to the pub and it just so happened to be karaoke night, my favorite. I met a few nice Kiwi lads and a couple of girls from Iowa. After a few beers I ended up singing 'Born in the USA' with the two other Americans which I'm sure was an overly intoxicated performance and obnoxious to the rest of the bar patrons, but it was lots of fun on my end.

The following day David and I woke up
and went on a kayaking adventure in search of Haruru Falls. However, due to a less than helpful map, we never ended up finding them and paddled back home after 4 hours of the most intense upper body workout I've ever had. But alas, so as not to feel entirely defeated, David, Elena and I hiked to the falls (another 4 hour workout) and were victorious. When we got back David and I made some pumpkin masks for the masquerade ball at the pub (his idea). The prize for wearing a mask was a free drink, not sure if it was totally worth the effort.

I've been joining Mom and Dad at church and singing in the choir with them. Last Sunday we sang 8 or 9 songs in a concert after the worship service. Learning 8 or 9 songs from one choir practice was a bit of a stretch for me, but thankfully Dad was singing tenor as well and drowned me out on any of the notes I missed.

Later that Sunday I finally got to experience a "driveway party" that I had heard so much about. This particular driveway party was planned ahead of time, but Mom says if you stand out in the driveway on a nice day with a drink in hand, no fail, people come out and start to accumulate.
We ate sausages (which New Zealanders eat on buttered bread, not hot dog buns), pavlova, bread pudding, meatballs, and drank lots of beer.

Last night I caught a bus downtown and met up with David (from Paihia) for some drinks. We hit up a few clubs, danced a lot, drank a bit, and I ended up crashing at his place as the buses don't run that late and I had no way to get home till the morning.

Tomorrow we're all going to Rotorua for a solid dose of Maori culture and geothermal geysers, and next weekend we're flying down to Wellington for a couple days where I'll get to attend my very first rugby match.

More to come ...

Why can't I go see Condoleezza Rice?

Our church choir conductor announced that he has been asked to recruit 12 people to sing the Star-Spangled Banner for Condoleezza Rice's state visit with Prime Minister Helen Clark next week, and he thought of us.

"But you and Curt would probably throw things at her."

"No, I'll behave myself," I protested. "Honest. Plus I already know the national anthem. AND I could sing it with an American accent! Please?"

"No. Actually, you can't participate. There will only be a small group, with 3 people on each part ... and ... you have to be ..." He paused. I was expecting him to say I had to be 'a better singer' but instead he said, "... younger."

Ouch.

"I'm supposed to recruit a youth choir of 18-25 year olds."

At 51, I guess that counts me out. Still, it would have been cool to see Condoleezza Rice in person, even though I disagree with her politics.

Besides singing the Star-Strangled Banner (as he calls it), they'll also perform Hine e Hine, which is one of the songs we performed with opera diva Kiri te Kanawa at Starlight Symphony in February as part of a 500-voice choir. (I already know the words to that one, too. And again, I would sing it with an American accent - which in this case is not a good thing.) Since Dame Kiri won't be there to sing the solo part for Condoleezza Rice, our conductor will get his wife to do it.

This led me to hatch a new plan: The conductor and his wife have a toddler. If he's conducting, and she's singing the solo, who will watch over little Julia? Since I'm one of Julia's favourite people these days (I babysat her last Friday), I would be an ideal person to accompany them to the performance and be the toddler wrangler. Right? Wish me luck.

Still getting olderer

I forgot to wear my glasses to church today. As a consequence, I had a bit of trouble reading the choir music. Thankfully, I knew the tune pretty well, but occassionaly had to guess at the words ... and wasn't entirely successful. Let's hope the congregation didn't notice.

It was even harder to read the order of service which was in a smaller font, bordering on microscopic. My arms simply weren't long enough. The most pathetic part was that I didn't get the Lord's Prayer right. Let it be known that I do know it by heart, but I know the American version and without being able to see the words, I can't remember which bits are different in the New Zealand version we do here.

I also forgot to wear shoes to choir practice a few weeks ago, and walked out the door wearing slippers. More alarmingly, this was not the first time I'd gone to choir wearing slippers. And don't forget the time I embarked on a 10-day road trip to the South Island wearing slippers.

Do you think there's a pattern here?

ANZAC Day, 2008

The choir from Mt. Albert Methodist Church (that's us) sang at the ANZAC service held at Mt. Albert Memorial Hall. We sing there every year. Prime Minister Helen Clark was the main speaker. She gives the speech there every year. It still amazes me how little fanfare there is when the leader of the nation is present at this dinky little community centre: anyone can attend, there's no metal detectors or bag checks or anything, no advance team of bomb-sniffing dogs, no motorcade. She simply arrived in a car with no entourage except 2 secret-service-type guys (who later sang along during the service) and sat in a folding chair, just like everyone else. It's all refreshingly low-key. As it is every year.

At last year's ANZAC service, we wrangled an introduction to Helen, and got to shake her hand and chat with her for a bit. This year, I elected not to impose myself on her, but if I had, I would have asked her about the recent Hillary Clinton gaffe concerning Helen. In an interview with a US magazine, Senator Clinton was telling a joke about the "Former Prime Minister, Helen Clark" ... but in fact Helen Clark is still the CURRENT Prime Minister. There have been plenty of laughs over here in New Zealand about Hillary's mistake, but I doubt if the American press has even realised that she misspoke.

After the service, we went back to the church for more choir practice, but not without a feed. Someone brought homemade ANZAC biscuits (cookies) which were softer and - naturally - better than the storebought ones. ANZAC biscuits, an oatmeal coconut recipe, became the biscuit of choice to mail to the troops during WWI because of their apparent unperishability, hence their name. They are really quite tasty, and an appropriate snack after the service.

Dame Kiri's backup singers

We sang backup for opera diva Dame Kiri TeKanawa this weekend at the Starlight Symphony concert. She's probably best known for singing at Charles and Diana's wedding a few decades ago, and remains an A-list opera soprano even now. Plus she's a dame, which is not a slang term for loose woman as it is in America, but one of those British honorary titles that I don't understand. I'm sure this genuine dame has had far better singers sharing the stage with her during her long career, but I doubt if she's ever had more singers than the 700 of us.

The event is called Starlight Symphony, and it's a free outdoor concert in the park attended by hundreds of thousands of Aucklanders every summer. Besides the Starlight Symphony Mass Choir (that's us), there are a dozen guest stars including young heartthrob/popera singer Will Martin, and this year's home-grown guest of honour, Dame Kiri.

The lady herself attended our rehearsal a few days earlier, and we had all been briefed ahead of time to "be respectful of her privacy." Translation: no pictures. Apparently she can be a bit of a prima dona at times. In fact, she was absolutely lovely and professional with us, thanking us all for participating, speaking in a teeny tiny voice ... but when she sang her voice was anything but teeny tiny! Man, her singing sails above all 700 of ours - without a microphone, mind you. Her only prima dona moment was when she suggested that we needed to turn our pages a bit more quietly. Granted, hundreds of pages being turned simultaneously inside a hot crowded church could be conspicuously noisy. But does she really think it will be an issue outside at the park?

The opera music for this year's Starlight Symphony was quite challenging for me: Toreadors from Carmen, Triumphal March from Aida, and Anvil Chorus from Trovatore. It was all in Italian or French, and seemed to go lickety split. Eventually I resorted to cheating; I skipped all the fast notes. No sixteenth notes. Skipping every other word or syllable probably made me sound like a stuttering Italian, but I blended in with the other 699 of us just fine. Curt, however, soldiered on to successfully sing all the notes as written. That's the kind of guy he is.

Unfortunately, wet weather caused havoc on the Starlight Symphony schedule this year. On Friday evening, we spent five hours at the park in the pouring rain for a dress rehearsal sound check. The stage where the orchestra and the guest stars performed was covered, but we in the choir were exposed to the elements. In spite of flimsy rain ponchos being distributed and an army of umbrellas, we were drenched to the bone. Even worse, our music was soggy and starting to disintegrate. At least that provided a better excuse for why I'm only singing half the notes. The rain also caused a postponement on Saturday's scheduled performance, but it finally went ahead on Sunday instead. The clouds started to spit a few times, but at least it never developed into full fledged rain so we were grateful. In the end, the whole show turned out impressively, but my highlight was definitely singing the Maori ballad, Hine e Hine, with Kiri. It gave me shivers. How many people can say they sang backup for a dame?

Christmas: Home Alone

During the holidays this year, I found that I wasn't feeling as melancholy as last year. I knew my mom was arriving in one week, I'd just spent 2 weeks in the US with all the family in November, and Carlin and Kristen had been here for 2 weeks. So I wasn't pining for my family too much, and our holidays turned out to be quite enjoyable:

On Christmas Eve, it was so hot that we eventually decided to go to the neighbourhood beach for a picnic. We lolled on our beach blanket, read books, and ate dinner. There weren't too many people there. The sun was shining, but there was a breeze off the water. It was perfect. Still, it seems surreal to say that we were at the beach on Christmas Eve!

On Christmas Day, we went to church and sang in the choir. The children's sermon was called Chocolate Christmas! This is my kind of church. Our friends at church made sure we had someplace to go for Christmas dinner (we did) and wished us a happy holiday.

At home, Curt and I opened presents. He got me an iPod, which I'd fancied so I could listen to music while I run on the treadmill at school every day after work. The other students in the gym often have a boombox blaring, but let's face it, I'm too old to want to listen to rap or whatever they've chosen. I'm also so old that I spent the rest of the day trying to figure out how to use the darn contraption. It didn't help that the only directions that came in the box were in Chinese. No English. On the plus side, there were a few helpful diagrams ... with Chinese captions. Good Lord. (eventually I found some English instructions on Apple's website)

My present to Curt was a new patio umbrella because ours was broken in 2 places. He spends a LOT of hours on the deck and I thought he should have a better umbrella, but he didn't seem to think there was anything wrong with the current one even though ...
1) The up and down mechanism broke soon after we bought it, and it had to be held in the up position with an army of hose clamps. Hence, it always stayed up.
2) Then there was a windstorm (remember, it was eternally open, so it caught the wind like a sail) which caused it to shear off at the table height. Curt's solution for this was to scour the neighbourhood on the day of the annual Inorganic Rubbish Pick-Up (people can put out old sofas, broken washing machines and piles of junk to be taken to the rubbish tip) until he found a silver pipe that was just the right diameter. It looked like it had been a shower curtain rod in its former life. He attached the ex-shower curtain rod to the what was left of the umbrella pole, and voila! Just like new.
Clearly, Curt has embraced the Kiwi mentality that anything can be fixed with a bit of ingenuity and some Number 8 Wire.
Note: in early January, the old umbrella broke a third time, so he relented and started using his new one instead.

After opening presents - there were only two presents so it didn't take very long - we went to my friend Lucy's house for Christmas dinner. She had graciously invited us to her family gathering, which included her husband and two kids, her mum, her in-laws, and a brother-in-law with his family. We arrived in time for the tail end of family gift exchange, and Lucy's two children proceeded to show me all the terrific presents they'd received.

I also accompanied her two kids as they played Christmas carols on piano, appointing myself in charge of the left hand/bass part. Best of all, Lucy and I played some flute duets. We had only recently discovered that we both played flute and both bemoaned the lack of opportunities to play, so we'd decided that a family Christmas gathering would be the perfect excuse to inflict our mediocre musicianship on others. Luckily, the audience was filled with holiday spirit and generously tolerant of us.

Although the good times and good conversation meant more to me than good food, I must affirm that there were indeed heaps of good food. Lucy's a wonderful cook and an elegant hostess - a Kiwi Martha Stewart. There were 6 dishes and 4 desserts, all exquisitely prepared and presented. I especially feasted on the shortbread cookie sandwiches with strawberries and cream in the middle. Heavenly.

We felt privileged to be included in their family Christmas, and it was the ideal way to celebrate the holiday thanks to Lucy, Grant, Emma, Liam, Oma, and all the Powells.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

POSTSCRIPT:
Because of the International Date Line, my four sons wouldn't be celebrating Christmas in America until the next day. So on December 26 (Auckland time), I called the boys. Boone was the only one at the designated Christmas headquarters (Grandma's house) and he was a bit under the weather, so he was not very talkative. Apparently, he'd had a cold for a few days, but went there for Christmas dinner anyway. After chatting with Boone, I got to talk to my brother a little, too. But I found that I wasn't as stoic as I'd felt yesterday. I was on the verge of tears. Next, I tried calling Nolan (who had already come and gone from Grandma's) but he didn't answer. I tried calling Austin (who was celebrating Christmas in Missouri with Jonna's family) but he didn't answer either. I tried calling Carlin (who was celebrating Christmas in Phoenix with Kristen's family) ... no answer. I left messages. Then I went ahead and cried. Just for a minute.
Remember what I said about not pining for my family? I lied.

Act III : Finale

On Sunday, Carlin and Kristen came to church with us and he played viola for 2 songs - one with the choir and one with just the organist. The choir muddled through their parts due to lack of practice, but the viola part sounded lovely and everybody appreciated him.

After Curt made French Toast (Kristen's favourite) for brunch, we went to the Viva Voce concert, a 24-voice a cappella choir conducted by a man from our church. Curt has sung with this group a few times, whenever they need some extra basses and we always enjoy their performances. This time, their concert was being held at St. Matthew-in-the-city, an elaborate stone cathedral with gorgeous acoustics. The setting was beautiful and the music was exquisite, as always.

When we got home, Carlin and Kristen helped put up the Christmas tree and decorate it. Carlin got to explain to Kristen the story behind the ornaments, and tell her various tales of Christmases over the years. Carlin also read his favourite Christmas picture book to Kristen, "Red Ranger Came Calling," about a boy who asked Santa for a Buck Tweed Two-Speed Crime-Stopper Star-Hopper bike, but instead of a Tweed bike, he got a treed bike. The story ends with a photograph of an actual treed bike - a bike stuck in a tree 50 years ago on Vashon Island in Washington State, and the tree trunk has grown around it - the inspiration for the book. Red Ranger is only one of the many Christmas picture books our family has collected over the years. The other favourite is "The Poky Little Puppy's First Christmas," especially when Austin would read it aloud, using silly voices. Ah, Christmas time. It can evoke such strong memories.

This year, it was only December 2 when we put up the tree, but since we wouldn't have any family here on December 25, we decided to have our little Christmas celebration a bit early. So I got out the Christmas dishes and the Christmas tablecloth and everything. We lit the advent candles and Carlin said a blessing before we ate which (of course) made me cry because they were going to have to leave the next day. After dinner, we opened our presents from each other and they had found us a perfect lawn ornament of a pukeko whom I have since named Nigel. I love pukekos because they have huge feet and walk like they're wearing clown shoes, which I find positively endearing. 

Their last day in NZ was a Monday so Curt and I had to go back to work, while Carlin and Kristen stayed home for a quiet, relaxing time (no sightseeing) and tried to fit everything back into their suitcases. Carlin surprised me by showing up at work for morning tea one last time, which made me cry (of course). What a sweetie. Later that afternoon, Curt and I took Carlin and Kristen to the airport where I finally had to say good bye, and yes, I cried.

Besides being able to spend this time with Carlin, it was especially good for me to share the last 2 weeks with my new daughter-in-law (whom I barely knew before the wedding) because now we had a stronger bond, shared memories, and connections. I never had any reservations about Carlin's choice as his bride because my boys have always had good taste in women and I've always loved their girlfriends. But after having spent some time with them, I'm even more convinced that he picked the right person. Welcome to the family, Kristen!

ANZAC Day

The Mt Albert Methodist Church choir (that's us) sang at the ANZAC service at the Mt Albert Memorial this morning. There were dawn services all over New Zealand on ANZAC Day, including the largest one in front of the Auckland War Memorial Museum, but Mt Albert's began at a more reasonable time, 9:30 a.m. Since this was one of scores of smaller, local services, I wasn't expecting much. I was wrong.

ANZAC Day is a national holiday to commemorate New Zealand soldiers. The date of April 25 was chosen because that was the day in 1915 when the ANZAC (Australian & New Zealand Army Corps) forces landed on the beach at dawn to begin their campaign to take the Gallipoli peninsula from the Turkish army. (See the red circle in the upper left corner) The invasion was ill-advised and after 9 months of fighting, little ground gained, and over 10,000 men lost, the troops pulled out without a victory.

It feels strange to me for a national holiday to be on the day their army got slaughtered. I'm more accustomed to the rah-rah patriotism of America where we celebrate, magnify, and treasure only victories, and secretly wish our defeats would disappear. On ANZAC Day, however, people don't celebrate the lost battle; they honour the men who bravely went into battle even though everyone knew it was a suicide mission. They honour the way the tiny little country on the other side of the world sent their boys to help the British Empire. They honour the way those boys distinguished themselves and earned respect from Australian and British troops. April 25, 1915 was the day New Zealand was admitted to the Big League, and they proved themselves worthy. ANZAC Day is a solemn day, deserving a solemn service that always ends with the bugler playing Last Post.

In Mt Albert's little Memorial Hall, I was astounded at how many people were in attendance! There were 250-300 people trying to fit into a venue that seats about 150. Luckily, the choir was positioned on the stage so we were assured a seat. Before the service, we had been forced to scrounge a few chairs; we grabbed all the strays we could find, including 3 we took from the podium. Once the service began, the place was packed, and the audience was standing all along the back - 4 rows deep - and more standing outside. There was an abundance of strollers, toddlers, and school children alongside the veterans and older generation. All sorts of local groups were represented: Mt Albert creche (pre-school), 2 local high schools, Girl Guides (Girl Scouts), Mt Albert churches, Mt Albert Senior Centre, Mt Albert Bowling Club, NZ Navy, NZ Air Force, NZ Coast Guard, RSA (the NZ veterans' group is called Returned Services Assoc.) ... and on and on. Each group laid a wreath at the memorial.

The main speaker for the service was none other than Prime Minister Helen Clark, because the Mt Albert neighbourhood is her home electorate. She gave her speech without notes, citing battles and relating history to the New Zealand experience. She's probably given a fair number of ANZAC speeches before. Overall, she's a polished speaker, with an unusually deep voice that carries well and commands attention. There were 3 security men discreetly but obviously lurking about, wearing earpieces and looking shifty. During the service, she sat by the podium, on a chair that someone had fortunately replaced because a certain choir had snatched hers. I can't believe we stole the Prime Minister's chair! It's a wonder we didn't get arrested by the guys in suits.

After the service, everyone got a cup of tea, including Helen Clark. She was chatting with various people while her security hovered nearby. At one point, Officer #1 spoke into his sleeve to tell something to Officer #2, who looked back at #1 from across the hall with a puzzled look, a shrug, and some pointing at his ear, indicating that his earpiece wasn't working and he couldn't hear a single word that Officer #1 had said. Ha.

Shamelessly - utterly shamelessly! - I asked one of our choir friends to introduce us to Helen Clark, since I knew that they were long-time acquaintances. He readily agreed, and ushered us over and introduced us as his American friends who moved to NZ. She shook our hands and asked where we were from in America, so we described our locations in Washington State & Oregon. We mentioned that Auckland looks a lot like Seattle - waterfront, ferries, Sky Tower. She agreed, but said she'd just been in Seattle in March and it was dreadful, rainy weather. We all agreed that the weather was much better here in NZ! After a bit more chit chat, we moved along and let others talk to her.

Next, we headed back to the church for a pancake breakfast put on annually by 2 members of the church. Brian, the choir accompanist, played old war songs like A Long Way to Tipperary while we all sang along, even though I hadn't heard of any of the other songs. But it was a fun way to spend the morning. And yummy.

Well, that was my brush with fame here in NZ. My choir friends kept asking if I had a good talk with my friend Helen, and were teasing me about never washing my hand again, now that I had shaken hands with the Prime Minister. I know it was brazen of me to ask Merv to introduce us, but I thought it was pretty cool to meet her nonetheless.

Summer Celebration

Last night, we sang with a massed choir as part of the Starlight Symphony event, an evening of outdoor entertainment for an estimated crowd of 200,000, presenting a complete spectrum of music from opera/classical to New Zealand Idol pop music and lounge lizard schmaltz.

Our massed choir of about 400 members began rehearsals for the concert just a week ago. Our conductor had to try to keep 400 people together, which is not an easy task ... but not nearly as hard as keeping 400 people together WITH the orchestra. However, under the able management of the gifted and ever-patient John Rosser, we all pulled together and presented a very respectable concert. John was dressed in a glitzy new waistcoat that his septuagenarian mother sewed for him (as she does every year). He also wore white gloves so we could see his hands better in the dark, which he donned ominously, shoving each finger tightly into the fabric as if he was getting ready to commit a heinous crime and didn't want to leave any fingerprints. Fortunately, the white gloves also made him look a bit like Mickey Mouse which reversed the sinister factor considerably. The choir was seated in the bleachers in front of the Cricket Pavilion while the orchestra was on the stage behind us, along with the hosts and soloists. The only problem with our seats was that they were hard, wooden, backless bleachers. I had heeded the warning to bring a cushion along, but Curt assured me he wouldn't need one. Ha. Guess who wanted MY cushion for the 2nd half when his butt started to go numb.

The crowd had set up folding camp chairs and laid out picnic blankets on the grass, stretching across the Auckland Domain for several hundred metres. As darkness came, children activated their green and blue glow-in-the-dark candles, swaying them to the music as you might see at a rock concert. It was a well-mannered, multi-cultural, multi-generational crowd.

Besides the choir and the orchestra, there were about 6-8 soloists. One of the more curious performers was a soloist who, a few days earlier, had arrived at our choir rehearsal in his flash convertible (parked conveniently but illegally right in front of the venue), with his shirt unbuttoned too far and wearing designer sunglasses. Next, he proceeded to blow kisses to us. Hmmm. The expression on our conductor's face of barely concealed contempt was almost as entertaining to watch as the strutting itself. Then our star opened his mouth and sang. What a voice! He has a lovely, clear tenor voice, a successful singing career in London, and is good looking. So I was incredibly curious as to why he felt he needed to act so cheesy. And that was only the rehearsal! Wait till you hear what he did at the performance: he wore a lizard skin jacket, and during one part of the song, he pulled it off one shoulder as if he was stripping/undressing. There was also, of course, a good deal of hip thrusts and come-hither looks. It really was too much for me. But he sang like Pavarotti so I may have to forgive him most of his sleaze.

One sweet moment was when the throng of revellers arose to dance a waltz performed by the orchestra. The sight of all that spontaneous joyous motion was quite a spectacle to see. Leading the dance on stage was a discus thrower "who could smash a watermelon with her thighs" (as the host described her) but was remarkably light on her feet. She had been a contestant last year on New Zealand's Dancing with the Stars and she and her dance partner had been a crowd favourite all the way until their second-place finish. I can see why. It was quite impressive and a little surprising to see this huge woman wearing a size 26(?) glittering gown gliding across the stage with such glamour and grace. She qualified for the Olympics on Thursday and danced for the crowd on Saturday. Wow.

The choir also had a good time performing a bit of choreographed cardboard flashing during the classic Beach Boys' tune, Good Vibrations. For most of us, putting the cards up and down at the right time was more difficult than singing, plus we had to sway (in the correct direction), and do a psychedelic card spin for The Big Finish. Who knew we had such diverse talent.

The programme energy was raised to a mighty crescendo with full orchestra and choir performing Tchaikovsky's 1812 Overture, complete with cannon, a barrage of fireworks, and a laser light show. The crowd went wild. The concussion from the cannon fire was enough to take your breath away. Sitting at the outer edge of the altos meant that I was only a few metres away from the cannons. Even though you know they're going to go off, you're still blown out of your seat. Ka-BOOM!

Sitting at the outer edge of the altos also meant that I was right by the aisle where the celebrities entered and exited. The Prime Minister went by. Hi, Helen. As did my friend the lounge lizard (with his cell phone stuck to his ear). This is the point at which I could name-drop a little ... except I've never heard of the stars who were there: Boh Runga, Andy Lovegrove, Geoff Sewell, The LadyKillers. I'm obviously too old to know who the latest stars are.

The programme concluded with the New Zealand national anthem sung in Maori and English (as it always is), and the pride and goodwill of the people was palpable. The evening ended with a quick and orderly departure of the sated crowd, and we only saw a limited amount of litter which we found unusual for such a large number of people where alcohol was neither prohibited nor abused.

The festive spirit engendered by the free concert was a perfect way for us to blend into the local culture and to feel more a part of the wider Auckland community. Mostly it was a magical evening of good clean fun, made even more special by my singing buddy, a recent widow, who was reminded of last year's event when she had been seated out in the crowd with her husband. We hugged and she wiped her tears while we listened to the New Zealand Idol judge crooning the words from Bridge Over Troubled Water:
When you're weary, feeling small.
When tears are in your eyes, I will dry them all.
I'm on your side. when times get rough.
And friends just can't be found,
Like a bridge over troubled water.
I will lay me down.