When I was growing up, one of my favorite claims to fame was the fact that my grandfather had written one of the songs in the Latter-day Saint hymnbook. Not just any song, but an actual good one! True, we only sang it about once a year, but it was different than the other ones, in a very good way. It’s got different endings depending on which verse you’re in, for one thing. How exciting was that? And there was my family name down at the bottom of the page. “Composed by.”
Fame incarnate. (And in all honesty, it probably contributed to me being an author. Seeing someone else do something and actually accomplish it shows you it’s possible. Once you think something’s possible, it becomes that much easier to do it yourself.
Of course, Bobba was the organist for the Tabernacle Choir (I wrote all about him back when he passed away), and he composed a whole lot of things other than that one hymn, but for an eight year old, all the other stuff soared over my head. This was a song I could actually look at when I was bored in church.
Why do I bring it up today? Because a local choir’s actually going to perform it on Sunday, and that makes me happy. (If you’d like to see it, come on out to our Easter service at 9:30am. Just ask me, and I can give you directions.)
And if you can’t make it, here’s the Tabernacle Choir performing it. (Sadly without Bobba at the organ. If someone knows of a place where there’s video of him playing, that would be peachy.)
Happy Easter, everybody.