I had a Cheers moment last night. It was fantastic. I walked into a bar, and heard a joyful chorus of, “Hey, Norm!”

Well, to be precise, the exclamation sounded more like, “Hi Natasha!” and the bar was Syd Birrell’s back porch. But the sentiment was the same. Quiet little Natasha, who never speaks unless she must, still managed to find herself a roomful of friends.

Everyone was happy to see me. Everyone conversed with me. Everyone asked me questions, and was interested in my answers. I could barely sit down, I was so busy being everyone’s friend. Indeed, I was one of the last to leave. Me. Staying longer than necessary at a social event. Imagine!

What unprecedented alignment of stars and planets could make such a thing happen? What mysterious forces intervened to thrust me so effortlessly into everyone else’s collective orbit? Was it my birthday? My convocation? My wedding? My retirement?

No, no, no, none of these. It was, indeed, “the most wonderful time of the year” – and by that I mean (obviously) that magical night that everyone everywhere anticipates with childish glee (sugar plums and all) – that’s right: the beginning of choir season.

Yes, this was the night when, after twelve dreary weeks of summer, the Chosen of Peterborough finally reconvened to break their musical fast. And what a feast it was! There were vegetables from everyone’s gardens, and Syd’s never-fail burgers, all brilliantly seasoned with the best conversation in town. But wait; it gets better. When the chumming around finished, we got to sing!

We sang bits of Haydn’s Creation. We sang innumerable Christmas carols (because that’s what choirs do in September – didn’t you know?). We established that C naturals are occasionally mistaken for C sharps (due to no fault of the altos, I assure you). We sang unisons and listened for overtones. We planned a cruise. We sang Happy Birthday to Gordon, and ate decadent chocolate birthday cake, and saluted him after rehearsal when he made his splashy exit in his fancy convertible sports car (“That’s my priest,” I said to Melody, nodding in his direction. “That’s awesome,” she said. “I know,” I replied. It’s pretty great to have a priest with a hankering for chocolate and fancy convertibles.)

It was a beautiful, beautiful night. There was much hugging, much chattering, much singing, and much happiness. Syd wasn’t too stressed out about concert season yet, and none of us had to drive through a snowstorm or sit at the back nursing a cold. We were all there, all welcome, all warm and wonderful.

And guess what? Next week, we get to do it all again!

You know, if you’re not in a choir, you really should consider joining. Choir is friendship at its finest. Some would even call it family. No matter who you are, or what your day’s been like, choir is a place where everybody knows your name!

Cheers, everybody!