Bridging the Past, Building the Future!
Share Your Chorus Memory

Here's a sampling of the chourus memories that others have submitted. We hope you enjoy reading them as much as we did! If you'd like, please submit your own chorus memory!

Chorus Memories

"I have several memories that stand out for me! For those of you that know me, I have a hard time keeping my mouth shut, so only one memory just won't work for me!

The first memory is my first concert , which was the July concert of 1993, Americana. I was overwhelmed by the support of the audience, and I still am today. I remember the Big River Medley that Alan Shorter arranged for us, and how much I liked it.

The next memory was when Craig Carnahan took over as the Artistic Director. I remember how nervous we all were, because Craig wanted us to have all the music memorized! What a nice challenge that was. And, I remember the audience going crazy over our rendition of Oh Holy Night, and the soloist blew the audience away! The applause was thunderous! We thrived in that concert, and have ever since!

On a more personal note for me, one of the highlights was playing the part of Patsy Cline, and pulling all of those items out of my dress while singing I've Got Your Picture. This was the concert at the State Theatre with The Womens Chorus Of Dallas. What a treat for me to hear the audience really enjoy my pulling the crutch and golf club out of my dress!

Another high point was our 15th anniversary season concert and banquet with Ann Hampton Callaway. The concert was at the Ordway and the banquet followed the concert at The St. Paul Hotel. Donna Red Wing was there and gave a POWERFUL speech. It was truely a magical day.

And last but not least, the arrival of Dr. Stan Hill as our Artistic Director. When Craig announced his departure, I was worried about our future. Stan has continued to make us thrive and prosper. Metamorphosis was an event. I remember Stan saying on his very first rehearsal with us in September of 2000, that it was his goal to blow GALA out of the water in 2004. Well, with Metamorphosis, and the James Sewell Ballet, we did that and more.

I feel very fortunate to be a part of this wonderful group of men. I am still amazed at how this organization can move people. And, I swear to God, that we have the BEST audiences at Ted Mann Concert Hall, that anyone could ever hope to perform in front of. The warmth of the audience is a source of power and strength for me.
Craig Swygman"

" I hope you all realize what a gift you are as a group. When our son, Jake, came out we knew nothing about homosexuality. We lived in a town where no one was out. We knew no one who was gay. We knew we could not go to our pastor for advice. We sought out a younger pastor who we thought would be a person who would give us good advice and help us understand what it meant to be gay. When we told him Jake was gay .... he said, "Don't worry, Randi. Jake can change." He continued by telling us why Jake needed to change. I needed a counselor when he was through telling us that Jake would live a dark and sad life ... alone ... if he was a gay man. I was devastated.

We ended up moving to the Minneapolis area after realizing we needed to have gay friends and we needed to be in a place where we could work for understanding and justice for the gay community. We had come a long way from the day that Jake told us he was gay but we still did not really have any gay friends or really feel a part of the gay community.

Shortly after we moved, we read in the paper that the Twin Cities Gay Men's Chorus was doing an outreach concert at a nearby church. We went. I remember that evening so well. Phil and I sat down in the middle of the sanctuary and we wondered how many men would be singing. I think I thought we would see a chorus of 20 or so..... but then the men entered and quietly filed in ... men kept coming .... there must have been over 100 for they encircled the whole sanctuary. I just cried. I had never seen so many gay men in one room. The chorus sang the first song surrounding us all ... and I just looked at each beautiful face and said a prayer of thanksgiving for each of you.

My sadness when we first heard that Jake was gay was the fear he would live a life alone. No one was out in our town and the people we thought were gay seemed very lonely. To see these beautiful men singing and sharing their gifts of music was an answer to prayer. It was that outreach concert that let me know Jake would have a life filled with beautiful loving people.

I am sure in every concert you give there is a mom like me.... seeking the truth about what it means to be a gay man .... looking for an answer to prayer. You are God's voice when you sing to her and you let her know her son will not be alone. She will see through each of you that her son will live a wonderful life filled with love. You and all the Gay Men's Choruses are such a blessing to so many people.

Congratulations on your anniversary!


With our love to each of you!

Randi and Phil Reitan
Eden Prairie, MN "

"I was living at the Hotel Amsterdam above the Saloon. I put two weeks rent on the remnants of my Visa card, and tried to find work using nothing but a pay phone and a rather intrigued desk staff. Paul Wellstone wouldn't hire me. Bruce Vento wouldn't hire me. Bill Luther wouldn't hire me. Martin Sabo's staff wouldn't put down their crochet hooks long enough to give me the time of day. Welcome to Minnesota. Iowa doesn't count here.

I picked up a magazine called "Gaze" at a local watering hole and noticed the ad for the chorus. Iowa had no such thing as a gay press. Tim used to get a four-page xeroxed newsletter from a group called IDEA which was trying to pass a gay civil rights bill in the state. The newsletter came in an unmarked brown envelope. IDEA passed the Iowa Senate, then died, as did it's founder. There was nothing like "Gaze" or "FocusPoint" down there. I knew one guy in Iowa City who had AIDS.

But this was Minnesota, home to so many of my heroes. I'm thinking Hubert Humphrey here, not Kirby Puckett. Home to my Finnish ancestors. "Gaze" was revelatory to say the least. I had never seen a real gay rag. Couldn't comprehend the need for one or even the legality of one. "Gaze" had this ad for auditions for the Twin Cities Gay Men's Chorus. It was a blurb in the events section or classifieds. I thought, "What the hell?" I had sung hymns for years and was an accomplished (back then) piano player. I figured it was a group of about a dozen guys - guys who got together and sang at churches or the library or something. How many gays could there be in Minneapolis? And if I don't get into this, maybe I'll join one of those other gay groups they have up here - like WoodTickSpotters, ShoeWhores, or MaleOperaLoversWhoAlsoLoveMenPlusPipeOrganExceptForTheFrench-Modernes.

I went to that audition at Hennepin Avenue Methodist Church and I remember Michael Foster welcoming me. I was auditioned in the basement youth room of the church by Craig Carnahan, Gerry Schmidt, Kelsey Bruso and Tim De Prey. I don't recall being nervous. Michael called me that night at my new home, a tiny studio apartment in Loring Park. (I got a job at FirstBank!) He told me I was accepted into the chorus. I was pleased. But there was a hint of "whatever" in my mind. Like, "Ooh, look at me! Aunt Vesta will be so proud! Singing with some gay guys at the library on Sunday afternoons." Well, what did I know?

I got in, can you believe it? I was rather astounded at the amount of paperwork. Especially the form that began "In the event of your death..." I checked "no" on chorus at my funeral, I think. I suppose it's still on file somewhere. I didn't really get the whole idea until we sang at Frank Lamendola's service. It was my first time in a Catholic church. Why was I crying when they closed the lid on that coffin? I didn't know Frank. Why when they closed it? Where did these tears come from?

Like Michele Bachmann, I had watched surreptitiously the first gay pride parade in Des Moines. It was...well, a gay pride parade in Des Moines circa 1991. Mongo, the owner of the Blazing Saddle whose real name is Bob, procured Groucho glasses for parade participants to confer anonimity on the fifty or so participants. I was too much a coward to join them and march down Locust Street past my office building and Nollen Plaza. I mowed Dorothy Nollen's yard for God's sake! Recently dead, she surely would have beeen looking down on the plaza with disdain at her gay lawn boy. "And he even went to 2nd Reformed!" she would say. "And wearing those silly glasses. Check it out Gladys. Earl. Would. Just. Shit.."

My first rehearsal with the TCGMC was quite literally life-altering. Kelsey warmed us up and Craig rehearsed us for the upcoming Pride Show, Divas II. I was surprised that I could sing. I could sing pretty good. You betcha. How different from the piano. You only have to hit one note at a time.

At the end of rehearsal, in that beautiful art-filled room, men started to move. They stood up and moved to the edges of the gallery. They did so in order to sing "Walk Hand in Hand." Their movement was autonomic but welcoming. I felt foolish because I didn't know the song and didn't have any sheet music. I had never heard it before. The men, using only their hands, ushered in a space of acceptance. They formed a circle. Organically, it seemed, "we" formed a circle. Just very naturally the men moved. "We" became "I." And then "I" was in the circle. And then, who was a part of the circle but me! Wait, are you serious? I'm in the cir....cir..." (crying jag ensued) cir....cul? And maybe without me there would be no circle?

Looking to my left and right, I apologized for not knowing the words, or even the tune. Someone said "shhh." And it was like falling backward into a big down-filled comforter. Then they sang. They sang for me! How many men? I couldn't even count. It turns out there were other people like me. What, a hundred? And they are holding my hand? Everyone through everyone through everone else seemed to be holding my hand. Kindly. Lovingly. How could I deserve such a thing?

The music welled up, it rolled about the room, and y spirit was infused with joy. Could I go with it? Could I accept it? There was no choice. I fell into that comforter. It was aural luxury. It was a rare instance of God. It was the touch of a man's skin in my nervous palm. It was the voices of my brothers. Brothers I didn't even know yet. Brothers that I didn't even know I had.
Kent Marshall

"

"I came out to myself on my 44th birthday in 1999 (it's amazing how we can hide from ourselves for so long!). For the first year a half after that I was still pretty much in the closet...that is until I saw my first TCGMC concert--December 2000. I was terrified of going, but at least I wasn't going alone.

WOW--what an experience! The quality of music and production was amazing (as a symphony musician that quality was really important to me). And what fun the performers were having on stage! Then there was the singing of "Walk Hand In Hand"--somehow I didn't feel so afraid any more. It was clear I needed to be a part of this...but how?

Although I had some long past vocal training, I was (and remain) an instrumentalist, not a singer. So, I offered to volunteer my playing. The very next concert I was on stage performing as a soloist. The Chorus members were friendly and open. There was a definite feeling of family, something I really wanted and needed.

From that moment on, I was a groupie. It was fun getting to know the guys, spending time with them and going to the concerts. But I felt I wanted even more. So at the urging of a few of the members I had met, I auditioned and became a member myself in the fall of 2001.

The impact of my membership really hadn't struck me until my first performance with the Chorus at a suburban church where Judy Shepard was speaking. I ended up sitting in the first row in front of the entire congregation. Suddenly, I wasn't just out to myself or to members of the Chorus or even the local bar denizens...I was out to the public at large. I even knew people in the audience--straight people!

What an emotional experience--I'm crying even now as I type this! But with the Chorus surrounding me, I wasn't alone and didn't need to be afraid. Their collective courage was enough to get me through the performance...and through many more after that, until I could gain my own sense of courage to be able to stand in front of strangers and be who I am.

The Twin Cities Gay Men's Chorus is community, friendship, love, support, opportunity, challenge, a voice for truth and equality and a place to find your own voice. For these reasons and many more, TCGMC for me is family!
Steve Humerickhouse"

"To state just one example of a Chorus memory that would entail all that I would want to say is impossible. Anyone in the Chorus that knows me knows that a simple answer is often times not forthcoming for one such as me. Having prefaced this story with that, here goes.

Craig Carnahan was my very first director for the "Twin Cities Men's Chorus" as it was known then when I auditioned back in the winter of 1989. I was asked by Craig, "Why do you want to join the Chorus?" My stammered response was, "I heard you are going to the state of Washington and I have never been there before. I also like to sing." His response was "Don't tell anyone that I told you this, but I guess you are going to Washington state, and by the way, welcome to the Twin Cities Men's Chorus!" I was too stunned to respond at first, but smiled and thanked Craig profusely. My boyfriend that I was dating at the time was waiting for me outside of the audition room, and when he saw me he asked: "Well, how did the audition go?" I told him that I wanted to wait until we got outside the church. When we got outside, I hollered "Woo-Hoo" at the top of my lungs and said, "you are looking at one of the new members of the Twin Cities Gay Men's Chorus." That was my first baby step taken to reclaim myself as a "positively imaged gay man." I have never looked back with regret ever since.

Being in the Chorus has slowly allowed me to emotionally develop the "child gay boy" into the current "adult gay man" that I present to the world today. Why, one would think that in some ways I went through a "metamorphosis."

The lyrics (to "Metamorphosis") in a small way contain some of my feelings of being a member of the Twin Cities Gay Men's Chorus: "How do you thank someone who has taken you from crayons to perfume?" I say simply, "thanks for the memories, and I look forward to creating more!" My hat's off to the "buck" bunny of the Chorus named Stan. You are truly amazing to me, and I admire your talents greatly.
Mark Roske"

"I remember going to the FIRST TCGMC concert at the Minneapolis Public Library. Sitting in the audience, watching my friend sing, I thought, "What a great way to meet people and have fun singing too!" (The fact that my new boyfriend was up there singing, didn't influence me too much.)

So a friend from work (Glenn Olson) and I joined. We got involved and met lots of wonderful people (I think Glenn is the longest running member?) HE SHOULD GET AN AWARD FOR THAT!

Every season got better and better. I became the Chorus librarian and got immersed in the operations of the Chorus.

In the late 80s, my work schedule forced me to leave TCGMC. I have since moved to California and am chairman of the board for Men Alive, the Orange County Gay Men's Chorus.

I get back to Minneapolis and catch a concert whenever possible.

The best memory of singing with TCGMC is "Walk Hand in Hand." I can't think of a better tradesong, and it brings tears to my eyes everytime I hear it.

Sing proud men! I wish you would ask us veterans up to sing "Walk Hand in Hand" with you at all your concerts.
Stewart Hall"

"I was privileged and proud to be among the nearly 400 (yes only 400!--and only a few dozen women) members of the massed GALA Festival Choir on stage at Orchestra Hall when the Twin Cities Men's Chorus (no "G-word" at that point) hosted GALA II in July of 1986. Downtown Minneapolis had been "swarming" all week with out-and-proud homo-folk, and there had been a few unpleasant incidents with the citizenry.

Earlier in the week, the United States Supreme Court had handed down its infamous decision in Hardwick vs. Bowers, upholding the right of the government to criminalize sodomy. Between the court decision, the solidarity of so many queer singers being together, and the power of the music that we had all been singing, the atmosphere in the Hall that Saturday night was so charged one could feel a "buzz" just walking in. Phillip Brunelle conducted the massed choirs in John David Ernst's "Jublilation," a stirring anthem of personal affirmation that had been commissioned just for GALA II and which brought the (full-house) crowd to its feet, roaring.

But then came the climax: Randall Thompson's "Testament of Freedom", whose stirring musical setting of Thomas Jefferson's words, "The God who gave us life gave us liberty at the same. The hand of force may destroy, but cannot disjoin, them," seemed almost cosmically appropriate to the political and cultural moment we found ourselves in as gay people that hot night in Minneapolis. Singing those words, in that electrically-charged atmosphere, with all of the other singers and the audience, I felt transported to another place, both emotionally and spiritually.

We hadn't even finished the piece when the audience was on its feet, screaming "more! more!" and clapping frenetically. They just would not stop! Maestro Brunelle had not prepared any encore piece (nor had we singers expected to give one), but caught-up in madness of the moment, he spontaneously made the perfect decision: He cued the orchestra and us to repeat the Thompson piece--in its entirety! The audience was on its feet through the entire repetition--and then kept on shouting and applauding for many minutes after we had finished "Round 2."

Everyone on stage that night was drained for a long while afterward. As I finally left the Hall that night, I overheard one of the extra security guards who had been hired (we learned only later because there had been threats of violence against "the queers") say to one of the ushers, "For a minute there, I seriously thought there was going to be a riot here."

That performance was the most intense emotional and physical experience of my life--including sex!
Richard Osborne"

"I joined the "Twin Cities Men's Chorus" as a second tenor in 1989 and was proud to continue as a member when it became the "Twin Cities Gay Men's Chorus" two years later.

I'll never forget my first concert with the Chorus - a holiday performance at Plymouth Church. I looked out into the audience and saw my mother, sister and young nephew. Music is a healing force, and the Chorus was an important bridge-builder between my family and me after my fairly tumultuous coming-out experience.

I continued with the TCGMC until I finished grad school and moved to Washington, D.C., in 1994. During my five years with the TCGMC I joined Chorus members in the March on Washington, Denver GALA, the presentation of our panel for the national AIDS memorial Names Quilt, and many Pride marches. We sang in Orchestra Hall, with the U of MN Opera, and at numerous commemorative events (including, sadly, far too many memorial services). I served for a time on the Membership Committee, helping to recruit and audition new voices -- and I watched with joy as the TCGMC grew in the eyes of the arts community and public from an "entertaining curiousity" into a highly-regarded, highly-polished choral ensemble routinely selling out even the largest concert venues.

I still cherish the "Hand in Hand" poster signed by all my Chorus brothers and presented to me as a going-away gift when I left for D.C.

The musical training and experience I gained from the TCGMC have served me well, and I have continued my active involvement in GALA-member Choruses. I sang with the Gay Men's Chorus of Washington D.C. for a number of years (performing in the Kennedy Center, National Cathedral, and as part of President Clinton's 1996 Inaugural celebration).

I now sing with the New York City Gay Men's Chorus. When I stepped onto the stage of Carnegie Hall for the first time last year, I thought of all of you at the TCGMC, grateful for the encouragement, friendship and solid grounding you offered me - not just musically but also in developing a deep sense of purpose and mission, a belief in the power of music to change society and change lives.

Heartiest congratulations as you approach your 25th year! I am honored to have been a part of your story...and I continue our shared musical journey with gratitude and pride.
Warmest regards, Greg Jones"

"I had just moved to Minneapolis after a 6 month stint in Chicago. I was at a local watering hole when a member of the chorus came up to me and asked if I had ever thought about being in the chorus. I have to admit, I didn't even realize there was such a thing. Gay men, on stage, singing, together??

He invited me to a rehearsal. I decided to go. It was like going to a gay bar for the first time. I was so nervous. I had no idea what to expect. I sat in the back during that rehearsal (it was Toon Tunes). I couldn't believe what I was hearing. The sounds, the beauty; I was in awe.

After that rehearsal, that person (Erik), asked if I was going to join. At first I was very reluctant to give him an answer. I hadn't sung in a chorus since 9th grade. I didn't think I was remotely close to being a part of something like this. It was to late for me to join for this concert, but I came to every rehearsal anyway. The interesting thing about that is, these men started talking to me. I couldn't believe that they were accepting me as part of this amazing group. Again, I was overwhelmed.

It came time for the concert. I convinced a friend of mine to go with me. We had such an amazing time. I laughed. I cried. I left the concert feeling a part of this performance. It was then that I decided to audition.

I spent the next couple of months picking a song and stressing out about the audition. I hadn't done anything like this before. I walk into the room and there are all the section leaders and Stan sitting at a table, waiting for you to perform for them. I almost couldn't do it. I thought for sure I wasn't in. I messed up the sight reading horribly and knew I wasn't going to make it. A few days later I got a telephone call that I was accepted. I couldn't believe it. I cried so hard because I was so excited.

The time came for the first rehearsal. I knew we (the newbies) would be invited up in front of the entire chorus to be introduced and welcomed. It took everything I had in me not to cry. But of course, being the gay man I am, the emotions came a flowing.

We made it through the concert time and it was the first concert. Again the newbies got invited up in front of the amassed chorus. It was then that I fully knew what it meant to be a part of this brotherhood.

It is hard to put into words just what it felt like to be a part of something. Something way down deep gets moved when you realize you are part of a greater good. I realized that I could help people. It is awe inspiriring to walk out on stage and see all these people here to see your group sing. It is hard to keep all your emotions intact when you hear and see people crying because you've moved them that much.

I am no longer a singing member of the chorus (hopefully that will change again very soon), but I still feel like I am a part of that brotherhood. I care very deeply for all my chorus brothers. Without all of you, I wouldn't be the gay man I am today.

Sing proud because you always affect someone. No matter how big or small it is, someone is moved by your presence.

I congratulate all of you on making it this far. I can only imagine what is store for the next 25 years.
Chris Cuhel"

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