I have a personal tradition. Whenever someone important to me passes from this earthly life into eternity, I play a recording of the Faure’ Requiem. I especially love to listen to the "In Paradisum” movement and imagine the recently departed entering paradise and being greeted into eternity by God.
On November 20 I listened to the Faure’ Requiem.
Lee Chidsey, was N. Royalton official
Tuesday, November 22, 2005
Alana Baranick Plain Dealer Reporter
North Royalton - Lee Chidsey, who directed finances for the city of North Royalton and choirs for several churches, died Saturday at Hospice Services of Southwest General in Strongsville.
The 86-year-old North Royalton resident served as finance director from December 1969 until retiring in 1986. For most of those years, she also was the city's tax administrator.
Chidsey, who was born Leonore Saunders in North Royalton, graduated from North Royalton High School in 1937. For two years, she attended a Cleveland business school that was a forerunner of David N. Myers University.
In her first finance-related job, she kept books for the Northern Ohio Food Terminal in Cleveland. She later was a payroll clerk for the North Royalton schools.
As a young woman, she directed the choir at Bennett's Corners Community Methodist Church in Hinckley Township near the North Royalton border. In the early 1940s, she lived in Wake man in Huron County, where she led a Congregational church choir.
She stayed with her sister in Brooklyn, while her husband, Harold "Hal," served overseas with the Army during World War II. After the war, the Chidseys lived at Hal's parents farm in Brunswick until buying a farmhouse in North Royalton.
Chidsey conducted the North Royalton PTA Mother Singers for 10 years. When her husband was band director at North Royalton High School in the 1950s, the mother of four sewed outfits for the majorettes and cheerleaders.
She served as choir director at North Royalton United Methodist Church, started its bell choir and played piano for Sunday school classes. She also wrote, directed and made costumes for holiday pageants.
On Christmas Eve, she led choristers at two services. Between sessions, she fed the singers at her house. Chidsey's relatives traditionally gathered at her home at dawn for Christmas breakfast.
The choir director celebrated Thanksgiving with a family jam session of seasonal tunes. All of her offspring play musical instruments. Those too young to have mastered an instrument play triangles or tambourines, so nobody feels left out. The tradition will continue the day after Chidsey's funeral.
In addition to her husband of 64 years, who retired as band director at Brecksville High School, survivors include her daughters, Joanna Haberbusch of Burbank and Janet Doty of Mentor; sons, Robert of North Royalton and Ronald of Brunswick; eight grandchildren; and three great-grandchildren.
Services will be at 11 a.m. Wednesday at North Royalton United Methodist Church, 13601 Ridge Road, North Royalton.
Arrangements are by Babitt Funeral Home of North Royalton.
At the funeral, I saw Jan for the first time in 21 years. For the moment that we hugged each other it was 1963. It was a moment to be close to Mrs. Chidsey one last time.
Requiem aeternam dona eis, Domine. Et lux perpetua luceat eis.
Thursday, November 24, 2005
Wednesday, November 23, 2005
Growing Up ( part II)
She was the prettiest girl in the school. Maybe even the whole world (at least in the world of a five-year old boy).
She was my first love. We held hands at church. But now there was a bigger universe, kindergarten. There was competition everywhere. It didn’t take long before our relationship changed. But then at five years old, what is time? It may have been the first day of school; it may have taken weeks, or months. But the “romance” was over and we were relegated to friends. We ice-skated together on the flooded field behind her house with our older brothers. We collected old newspapers for the church youth group fund-raisers, again with our older brothers. We sang in the choir together and learned to play hand-bells.
Like most third graders my social world was limited. In my case there were two; school and church. School was a nightmare. Mrs. Cochran, the third grade teacher, the witch, was up to her misguided attack. For six hours each day Monday through Friday, I was miserable. Weekends were a refuge and a time to forget. It was also a time to heal. I found healing from family, and church activities. Church and home…places where I could be me. Don & Janet were at church, and the absolute and complete opposite of Mrs. Cochran was Janet’s’ Mom; Mrs. Chidsey.
Mrs. Chidsey was the church choir director. She was everybody’s mom at church. She had the warmest most caring smile. She knew everything about music. She knew how to make everyone feel important, and feel good about ourselves. She directed the adult choir, she directed the teen choir, the children’s choir and the hand-bell choir. She taught us not only about music but also about performance. She put her soul into our performances and taught us how to put our souls into those performances as well. She wrote the special holiday plays and pageants. She made the costumes, she fed us, she loved us, and she made me feel special. She smoothed over the damage of the third grade teacher.
I knew at the time that she was a special person, but it wasn’t until I was an adult that I realized how much she meant to me. As I began performing and directing performances I realized just how much Mrs. Chidsey taught me. She taught me how to be professional. She instilled in me a love for sacred music.
A few years ago, at the end of a concert with the Cleveland Orchestra Chorus, I had a chance to speak with the great choral director; Robert Page. I thanked him for allowing me the opportunity to sing in his chorus. I said that I remembered my audition as being atrocious and that I appreciated his taking a chance on me. He told me that he remembered my audition as well and confirmed that it was pretty bad. Then he went on to say that he accepted me in the chorus because he believed I had the vocal talent, but more importantly he saw that I had "music in my soul". I thought at that moment; "God gave me the gift of voice. Mrs. Chidsey opened it."
She was my first love. We held hands at church. But now there was a bigger universe, kindergarten. There was competition everywhere. It didn’t take long before our relationship changed. But then at five years old, what is time? It may have been the first day of school; it may have taken weeks, or months. But the “romance” was over and we were relegated to friends. We ice-skated together on the flooded field behind her house with our older brothers. We collected old newspapers for the church youth group fund-raisers, again with our older brothers. We sang in the choir together and learned to play hand-bells.
Like most third graders my social world was limited. In my case there were two; school and church. School was a nightmare. Mrs. Cochran, the third grade teacher, the witch, was up to her misguided attack. For six hours each day Monday through Friday, I was miserable. Weekends were a refuge and a time to forget. It was also a time to heal. I found healing from family, and church activities. Church and home…places where I could be me. Don & Janet were at church, and the absolute and complete opposite of Mrs. Cochran was Janet’s’ Mom; Mrs. Chidsey.
Mrs. Chidsey was the church choir director. She was everybody’s mom at church. She had the warmest most caring smile. She knew everything about music. She knew how to make everyone feel important, and feel good about ourselves. She directed the adult choir, she directed the teen choir, the children’s choir and the hand-bell choir. She taught us not only about music but also about performance. She put her soul into our performances and taught us how to put our souls into those performances as well. She wrote the special holiday plays and pageants. She made the costumes, she fed us, she loved us, and she made me feel special. She smoothed over the damage of the third grade teacher.
I knew at the time that she was a special person, but it wasn’t until I was an adult that I realized how much she meant to me. As I began performing and directing performances I realized just how much Mrs. Chidsey taught me. She taught me how to be professional. She instilled in me a love for sacred music.
A few years ago, at the end of a concert with the Cleveland Orchestra Chorus, I had a chance to speak with the great choral director; Robert Page. I thanked him for allowing me the opportunity to sing in his chorus. I said that I remembered my audition as being atrocious and that I appreciated his taking a chance on me. He told me that he remembered my audition as well and confirmed that it was pretty bad. Then he went on to say that he accepted me in the chorus because he believed I had the vocal talent, but more importantly he saw that I had "music in my soul". I thought at that moment; "God gave me the gift of voice. Mrs. Chidsey opened it."
Growing Up (part I)
I had a pretty normal childhood, at least from outside appearances. My family was terrific. We all got along great and mom & dad always provided for us even when money was tight. I wasn’t abused or mistreated…at least not at home.
Actually life was pretty good until the third grade. I ran into a very sick individual who happened to be my third grade teacher. She was married to a fairly prominent local business owner and was purported to have been an ordained minister. All I know for sure is that she was twisted and should never have been allowed near children. For some unknown reason I became her target. She never touched me or abused me physically she did however launch an emotional psychological attack that took me years to come to grips with.
On a daily basis she stood me up in front of my classmates as an example of “stupid”. She nicknamed me “bump on a log” and would call on me by that name. If I performed poorly on a test or assignment she would not only show my work as a bad example, but would share the information with other teachers. What hurt the most however was how she systematically turned my classmates against me. She actually targeted other kids who continued to be my friend until they too would turn against me.
I said she never touched me, but there was one day where she manipulated an “April Fools Day” activity so that I was dared to kiss the teacher. Ultimately it was not the other kids who goaded me, it was her. I remember vividly being humiliated into pressing my lips against the cheek of this vile person as the class watched. I literally went home and vomited. I told my mother I thought I ate a bad hot dog in the cafeteria.
My parents never could comprehend that what I was reporting to them was the truth. I guess they thought that I had an active imagination and was using it to defend my poor performance at school. It wasn’t until after the year ended that they came to realize what damage had been done.
By the end of the school year I had no friends except for Don and Janet. They were my friends from church. Don was my buddy no matter what. When the teacher discovered this, she started picking on him. Fortunately for Don, it was pretty late in the school year so she didn’t have much time to work on him. Janet was sparred because her family was also very well known in the community. Her dad was a teacher and her mom was the city Finance Director and the choir director at the local Methodist Church. I would bet that they both suffered some humiliation on my part, but they stuck it out.
Socially, I didn’t fully recover from this until the ninth grade. Mentally I still deal with it. In fact, despite my outward appearance of self-confidence, I still find myself dealing with self-esteem issues. I chose to mask these feelings by being the jokester and acting like a guy with a huge ego. Evidently I am a more talented actor than I or anyone has ever given me credit for.
Actually life was pretty good until the third grade. I ran into a very sick individual who happened to be my third grade teacher. She was married to a fairly prominent local business owner and was purported to have been an ordained minister. All I know for sure is that she was twisted and should never have been allowed near children. For some unknown reason I became her target. She never touched me or abused me physically she did however launch an emotional psychological attack that took me years to come to grips with.
On a daily basis she stood me up in front of my classmates as an example of “stupid”. She nicknamed me “bump on a log” and would call on me by that name. If I performed poorly on a test or assignment she would not only show my work as a bad example, but would share the information with other teachers. What hurt the most however was how she systematically turned my classmates against me. She actually targeted other kids who continued to be my friend until they too would turn against me.
I said she never touched me, but there was one day where she manipulated an “April Fools Day” activity so that I was dared to kiss the teacher. Ultimately it was not the other kids who goaded me, it was her. I remember vividly being humiliated into pressing my lips against the cheek of this vile person as the class watched. I literally went home and vomited. I told my mother I thought I ate a bad hot dog in the cafeteria.
My parents never could comprehend that what I was reporting to them was the truth. I guess they thought that I had an active imagination and was using it to defend my poor performance at school. It wasn’t until after the year ended that they came to realize what damage had been done.
By the end of the school year I had no friends except for Don and Janet. They were my friends from church. Don was my buddy no matter what. When the teacher discovered this, she started picking on him. Fortunately for Don, it was pretty late in the school year so she didn’t have much time to work on him. Janet was sparred because her family was also very well known in the community. Her dad was a teacher and her mom was the city Finance Director and the choir director at the local Methodist Church. I would bet that they both suffered some humiliation on my part, but they stuck it out.
Socially, I didn’t fully recover from this until the ninth grade. Mentally I still deal with it. In fact, despite my outward appearance of self-confidence, I still find myself dealing with self-esteem issues. I chose to mask these feelings by being the jokester and acting like a guy with a huge ego. Evidently I am a more talented actor than I or anyone has ever given me credit for.
Wednesday, November 16, 2005
First homes
I remember... My Mom was washing dishes and not saying much.
I shouted a quick "see ya later" and I carried the last load of my worldly possessions out to my car, and I was off to my first apartment. My wedding was still a few weeks away, but we were anxious to get settled in our new home.
It wasn't much of a first apartment, just one bedroom, a tiny kitchen and gold sculptured carpet. Oh yeah, it was a basement apartment because it was ten dollars a month less than the second and third floor units. Since between the two of us we were only making $60 a week, that extra ten bucks was a big consideration.
Mom & Dad gave us most of our furniture. I gave Robin a rocking chair for Christmas the year before. Then we bought a kitchen table and chairs. Robin wrote the check and dated it for the wrong year!. The furniture store called like they were trying to round up Bonnie & Clyde.
We lived on that $60 a week until I landed my first stage management job. That paid me $100 a week. We thought we were rich.
That first apartment was small, and we were broke, but we were adults now, free to make our own decisions and mistakes. Responsible for our own debts. We had to pay bills, and repair broken things, and buy groceries, and take out garbage. It was "our house" though and so we were excited. We didn't notice that our parents weren't talking much.
I found it pretty hard to talk last night. I ate dinner in relative silence. After dinner, I rounded up some boxes and gathered up some "essentials" for a new home. We talked about moving the furniture over the weekend. We're hoping it isn't raining or snowing.
I had to leave for a meeting at the church. When I came home, I went upstairs to the bedroom in the back of the house. It was empty except for some items that were not important enough to take yet. We'll get that stuff when we move the rest of the furniture.
It started snowing today. I called her at her office. She answered the phone very professionally. I said; "It 'nowing Mewissa". She laughed.
She won't come home from work tonight. She'll be going to her house instead. I know now, why my Mom didn't say much that day.
I shouted a quick "see ya later" and I carried the last load of my worldly possessions out to my car, and I was off to my first apartment. My wedding was still a few weeks away, but we were anxious to get settled in our new home.
It wasn't much of a first apartment, just one bedroom, a tiny kitchen and gold sculptured carpet. Oh yeah, it was a basement apartment because it was ten dollars a month less than the second and third floor units. Since between the two of us we were only making $60 a week, that extra ten bucks was a big consideration.
Mom & Dad gave us most of our furniture. I gave Robin a rocking chair for Christmas the year before. Then we bought a kitchen table and chairs. Robin wrote the check and dated it for the wrong year!. The furniture store called like they were trying to round up Bonnie & Clyde.
We lived on that $60 a week until I landed my first stage management job. That paid me $100 a week. We thought we were rich.
That first apartment was small, and we were broke, but we were adults now, free to make our own decisions and mistakes. Responsible for our own debts. We had to pay bills, and repair broken things, and buy groceries, and take out garbage. It was "our house" though and so we were excited. We didn't notice that our parents weren't talking much.
I found it pretty hard to talk last night. I ate dinner in relative silence. After dinner, I rounded up some boxes and gathered up some "essentials" for a new home. We talked about moving the furniture over the weekend. We're hoping it isn't raining or snowing.
I had to leave for a meeting at the church. When I came home, I went upstairs to the bedroom in the back of the house. It was empty except for some items that were not important enough to take yet. We'll get that stuff when we move the rest of the furniture.
It started snowing today. I called her at her office. She answered the phone very professionally. I said; "It 'nowing Mewissa". She laughed.
She won't come home from work tonight. She'll be going to her house instead. I know now, why my Mom didn't say much that day.
Friday, November 11, 2005
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