By Mark Emerson Donnelly
Composer-in-Residence
Be Thou mindful of Thy word to Thy servant, O Lord, in which Thou hast given me hope:
this hath comforted me in my lowliness. (Psalm 118)
Though Mum and Dad didn’t play any instruments themselves, they thought music lessons were important for my sister, brother and me. I’m not sure why, but they chose violin for Maureen, and piano for Lawrence and me. Our first piano teacher was Mrs. Chapman. She had some chickens, and so, after Mum dropped Maureen and Lawrence off at school, she’d drive me to my lesson, and also pick up a couple dozen eggs. A few months in, Mrs. Chapman told my mum I was too young for lessons, and should try again in a year. By that time my brother had moved on to another teacher, Mrs. Wiesemann, who became my new teacher.
My mum dutifully drove me to piano lessons for eight years, at the end of which it was clear I had neither the discipline nor the desire to play the piano. However, when I was in grade six, Mum bought a trombone for $25 at a second hand store. That seemed pretty cool, but since our elementary school didn’t have a band, I waited two years to start playing it (aside from blatting out a few fat notes that drove our dog, Wally, nuts).
I have no idea why Mum got that trombone. I still have it. In fact, I used it as a prop in “The Barber of Seville” some years ago. My daughter Theresa, who sings on this recording, played one of Figaro’s helpers in that production. I love the trombone, though I don’t play it much anymore. Without it, I’m not sure I would have continued with music.
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In November 2019, Catherine and I made the commitment to promote my composing of Latin church music. Though I had been writing and arranging music for many years, it was only for about the last two that I had the conviction that this was what God wanted me to do. Even then, it took me those two years to muster up the courage to admit this to the world. I, like a lot of folks, don’t like rejection. I had been a professional singer for decades. Now I was going to say that the best part of me was not performing, but writing music. What if people didn’t like it? Or worse, didn’t even care?
The first thing we thought we needed to do was record some of my stuff as soon as possible. We were given permission from the abbot of Westminster Abbey in Mission, BC to record there in the third week of January. Circumstances made it such that we had to push the recording into the next month. However, only one day worked, Saturday, February 1st.
There were two problems. First, the Abbey wasn’t available. Thankfully, a good friend of mine and fellow composer, Peter Allen, arranged for us to record and film at St. Augustine’s in Vancouver; which happened to be the church where my parents were married. That was kind of neat.
The second problem was that February 1st was my mum’s birthday. So I called Mum and asked if it was okay if we celebrated her birthday on the following day instead. She said, “That’s fine, but don’t make a fuss!” I said, “It’s not a fuss. But the only day we can record is on Saturday, so we have to come over Sunday.” “Okay. But don’t make a fuss!” So we recorded and filmed on my mum’s 94th birthday. Since Colleen, our eldest daughter and one of the sopranos in OFFERTORIUM, was in town from Edmonton for the recording, Mum was able to see her great-grandson, Leo, for the celebration.
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Liturgically, we were deprived of the Gloria throughout Lent. Therefore, it was fitting to release the Missa Sicut Cervus “Gloria” on Easter Sunday. It was also most appropriate to release the “Ave Maria” for Mother’s Day; likewise the “Pater Noster” for Father’s Day.
But of the five pieces we recorded on Mum’s birthday, the one that stood out as special to all involved was the “Memento Verbi Tui.” The problem was, what was the fitting occasion on which to release it?
Well, Mum passed away at the end of July. In her honour, we dedicate this performance, sung by friends and four of her grandchildren: Colleen, Theresa, Francis & Mary-Kate.
People ask if her passing was expected. Well, I guess as expected as for anyone who has lived into her nineties. Mum was Mum. Born in Galicia, Poland (now Ukraine), she survived the Second World War as a Slav in Nazi Germany. Mum was tough. It seemed she would just always be there.
Mum never really understood what I did as a conductor or composer. She knew that I somehow made my living as a singer, because she saw me performing the anthem on TV before Canucks games. I sang “Danny Boy” for her about a week before she died. She said, “You sing pretty well. You’re still my little boy.”
My brother, Fr. Lawrence Donnelly, and I will miss her. We pray that Mum is together with Dad and Maureen in Paradise.
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To Mum;
May the angels conduct you into paradise; may the martyrs receive you at your arrival and lead you to the holy city, Jerusalem. May the choirs of angels receive you, and, together with the once poor Lazarus, may you have eternal rest. (In Paradisum)
Your loving son,
Mark
markemersondonnelly.com
August 14, 2020
Vigil of the Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary
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