My parents both died—Dad in 1984 and Mom in 2004, and Mom insisted that we divide things evenly between me and my brother. My brother already had two houses, so he wasn’t interested in my parents’ house in Danby. So guess what? I got a house. I came to Ithaca from Buffalo, New York—long time in Buffalo with no thoughts of leaving, but here I was. First I went to see what was going on in my parents’ church. I went a couple of weeks. I went to coffee hour both times, but nobody said hello. Next I became aware of the Episcopal Church of Cornell, so I went there and was active in whatever was going on there until the Diocese decided that the Episcopal Church of Cornell was for the students and therefore the elderly population that was keeping it going was asked to leave. I followed Katy Grace here to St. Thomas.

I totally enjoyed the music, and everybody said hello. So, I do exist and could enjoy the music. I’d sung the choir since the age of nine. But after I had heart surgery my lungs were weren’t capable of pushing out the music like I did when I was nine. The organist at St. Thomas was very good at making sure that we understood what the music was. But then he passed away, and we’ve had a variety of other organists come by and they’re all good. They’re marvelous. It’s too bad that they can’t stay here. The hymns that I do know, I wind up humming along just like I had lungs to do it with. Apparently even though I was an alto, here I sing the melody because everybody else is singing alto.

What keeps me here? Cullie was great. Cole was great. It’s unfortunate that we’re without a priest at the moment, but our supply priests are giving us an expansion of what a priest is. It’s all good, and as long as the music holds up and everybody sings, I’ll enjoy being here.