Our First of A Forever of Tuba Christmases
Tubas are to the orchestra what red-headed woodpeckers are to a yard of sparrows; not rare, but certainly solo. So when my bestie Doug invited me to a holiday tuba orchestra called Tuba Christmas, I said “Yes!” without asking questions. I’m a Christmas kid after all, and Doug and I do Christmas well together.
Apparently, Tuba Christmas is international, and as old as Doug is, which is 50 years old. And yet we’d never heard of it before. This was a shocker because Doug is dorkily and awesomely notorious for finding the rarest and quaintest ways to celebrate holidays, from the Groundhog Day Parade in Unadilla to the Mormon expo of Gingerbread Houses. So we were both shocked to find out not only that we had missed so many previous Tuba Christmases but also that our friend Harlan was one of the tubists!
Yesterday afternoon, we settled in the extra pew at the very back of the Kountze Memorial Lutheran church on the cusp of downtown Omaha and readied ourselves for the grandeur. The Lutheran church reminded me of the Catholic churches of my youth, except warmer of light and slightly smaller of scale. Every surface rich with texture, from velour to walnut and glass to gold. The renovated windows were stained in the luminescence of red blood and blue tears. Doug asked me about the Sanctuary Lamp that hung near the altar, an ever-lit pillar in a crimson cylinder, a reminder of the everlasting. I love churches but loathe religion. Being raised Catholic means I have a style I tend towards in church design. A Baptist church, free of the flesh of the crucified Christ, would likely feel half-finished. And the Unitarians, with their emphasis on clear glass windows, would leave me feeling exposed to the eye of the one in the sky, if there was such a one. Stained glass is as private as it is regal, a veil of colorful cataracts to keep my secrets secret.
Back to the tubas. The orchestra was comprised of 75 tubas and euphoniums, and ONE sousaphone, which was played by our friend Harlan. When he was acknowledged as the solo sousaphone player, he pointed to his lady in the balcony, then waved to me and Doug in the back of the sanctuary; finally, I was a cool kid!
The audience was decked in their holiday best; Santa Hats, Ugly Christmas Sweaters, and too-many-to-count “Tuba Christmas” branded stocking caps and scarves! Even the instruments were dressed for the occasion. Tubas were decorated with the retro foil garland of a Muppet’s garter, as well as twinkling electric Christmas lights. It was glorious. Between performances of classic Christmas carols, the conductor shared entertaining tales of the origins of Tuba Christmas. The tubists played both our favorite carols, “Silent Night” for Doug and “God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen” for me (recording below!). The sensation of 76 low brass instruments was felt in our ears and our limbs. The sound of a dozen roaring lions deep in the den, or maybe it was more the sound of a foghorn making love to a storm.
Doug leaned into me to whisper, “We should’ve brought cocoa!,” and while he doesn’t wear cologne that I know of, there was something of the scent of yuletide cheer on his neck. Brass surrounded us in sound and light, and the moment slowly became magical. The Christmas tree was lit with the lapis lazuli of Mary’s cloak and the oiled wood altar absorbed our gasps. This must be what a forest of Christmas trees feels like, sans the frigidity of winter. My eyes closed a moment as we were rocked into the lull of a Tuba Christmas, and I felt content, a feeling that is rare this time of year. The time when we are trying to fill every moment with some ridiculous perfection as we fill our mouths with enough sweets to sink a sleigh. Wanting to suck every drip of Christmas cheer from the season. Wanting to pack each moment with more and more and more. Wanting. Wanting. Wanting. And now, suddenly, I was no longer sticky with want. I was perfectly gratified and satisfied.
This just oozes Christmas. I had no idea it was a thing. Wonderful.
Harlan was holding out!