The Voice of an Island

The Voice of an Island…

“But O for…the sound of a voice that is still!” Tennyson


It’s March, and The Island Choir is tuning up.

Jets overhead mingle with morning walkers, joggers and bikers along island sidewalks. The island is coming alive again after winter—The Choir has assembled, a recital is beginning.

The island has a voice and a language all its own…it is alive with singing through a cacophony of sounds—listen to its chorus.

The Voices—so many--the wind, the ocean, the sands, the stars, the lazy days or the Big Daddy of ‘em all, the still, huge voice of The Marshes. Who has not heard the marshes sing its refrain, “Come home, come home...” With such a synthesis of voices it is difficult to hear the individuality, only the collective unity of a Single Choir.

I know something about choirs. I had ample experience as a youth in the small town of Colquitt, GA, where the United Methodist Church ruled most Sundays. I can still see the faces of some choir members there…gazing from their lofty perch, their eyes seemed to bore into my very soul, saying, “Repent, you worthless sinner…”

Some years ago I visited my mother there. Abandoning a guilty conscience, I took it upon myself to brave church alone. And, Oh, my God, there they were, The Choir—singing away—like nothing had changed. There were so many of the “old” faces that for a minute I thought I had transcended earth. Yes, there were some new and younger faces, but they still sang with one voice the old Wesley favorites. With the exception of the octogenarian who, as I recall from youth, sang about a half-note off key, their individual voices were indistinguishable.

Would you like to hear to The Voice of an Island? Then stop it in mid-motion... here’s how I did:

On a dusty patch of sand, hard by Runway 22, an open tent stands shaded by giant oak trees. It is the island’s “Farmer’s Market.” Kathy is one of its daily proprietors. She is easily distinguishable by her trademark blonde ponytail and constant waves to the honks of friends. Quick with a smile and a hello, her enthusiasm is contagious.

Rows of boxes filled with fresh vegetables, citrus and other edibles reflect the bright sunlight. Alive and colorful, the produce, like an assembled choir, speaks collectively. It has a profound and perhaps primordial attraction, reminding us of family dinners, past and present. It sings of memories as well as possibilities.

There are few places that you can actually “feel” the pulse of a place…this tent is one of them. While we talk about her business, people come and go, passing around a little news or gossip they’ve heard, always leaving something of themselves, even as we kept sampling the hot boiled peanuts.

I ask Kathy, “How have times changed?” Reflectively, she answers, “Well, in the old days families came in and bought by the bushel, went home and sat around preparing the produce for cooking. Not so now…they want it shucked, shelled, shredded and stringed, so I spend a lot of my time preparing it for them. I guess I’ll have to start cookin’ it for ‘em soon!”

“Why’s that,” I ask? “Well, I reckon nobody has time to sit around together anymore…they want it done for them. Maybe that’s a sign of the times, and maybe I’m becoming a relic.” I understood that fate!

“Where does this produce come from,” I ask. “Mostly from small farms in Southeast Georgia. It’s a way for these small farmers to supplement their income and at the same time feel a sense of connectedness to a community larger than theirs. I think I represent a microcosm of the region, because under this tent a lot of people come together in one way or another…one plants, another harvests, one delivers, another sells, and the buyers eat. No matter how you look at it, in some sense we are all part of a larger community.” What she said got me to thinking.

What exactly is The Voice of an Island anyway? Is it not each of us who together sing a part? Perhaps it’s only a small part…but in the larger sense we’re all in this life together, and we all are part of a very big choir, singing with a lot of individuality, making up The Voice of an Island every day. Just a thought.

Yes, there are always some new faces in this elegant island choir…change is good. I hope yours is one of them. While I won’t speculate on how you might hear the Island Voice, I will warn you in advance of this:

I’ll be the lunatic singing hilariously with joy every day, hoping to make a difference!



Bud
February 10, 2008