3rd Place Winner of the Ag Heritage Essay Contest
“Singing Conventions”
(A story told to my cousin by an older relative, about going to a rural West Virginia church, 1937)
When I was very young, in the early 1930’s we lived in the country on a small farm. I was an only child, and looked forward to going places where there were other children. One of the places I generally liked to go was church.
My family attended a small country church, where everybody knew everybody else. Many of the other attendee’s were related to each other, and some to me. In those days, many folks walked to church, some coming several miles 2 or 3 times a week. It was not only a religious experience for them, but about the only social life many of them had. There were several special events during the year, usually a homecoming in the summer and revivals during spring and fall, Christmas and Easter programs where the children recited or had part in small plays.
Sometime during the summer “singing convention” were held. As well as I can remember, they were taught from books that had odd, angular “shaped” notes. It was a method of teaching people who did not read regular music, how to sing both melodies and harmony. My parents usually attended at least one of these meetings each year.
I was never left at home, and went where ever my parents went, but I was not particularly happy to attend these sings, since there was little in them to interest a small child. In fact I found them to be pretty boring, which is perhaps one of the reasons I remember them so well. I had to sit still and be quiet, but in those days children of 3 or 4 were expected to behave, and most did, including me.
I remember it was always hot in the church. This was before the days of electricity, so there was not even a fan to stir the air. Only open windows, and small hand fans, used vigorously by the congregation provided any relief at all from the heat. Most of these fans, either straw or cardboard, were placed in churches as advertising by funeral homes, and there was always one available stuck in the back of the pew where the song books lived. I can still feel the swish of the fan my young mother used to cool me, while I watched moths blundering into the lamps, hearing the soft jingle of a cowbell coming in through the windows as someone brought their cow into the barn for milking, and the odd sing songs tones of the congregation singing from their shaped note hymnals, all colored by the pale yellow light of oil lamps. It is one of the indestructible memories of my childhood.
I don’t remember ever leaving these meetings, as I usually fell asleep before they were over, and had to be carried out to the car to go home.
Matthew Morrison
Barboursville FFA
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