I f it weren't for the date on the newspaper clipping, I'd forget that I have an anniversary to celebrate. August 1978--35 years ago, I picked up handbells for the first time ever. It was the year in between 8th grade and freshman year of high school. Not exactly the time when you think about taking on new things, other than your course schedule. Graduation had just marked the end of a huge year--first term paper in English; Confirmation class; playing on the school's inaugural girls softball team; algebra; yearbook staff; a pool party with friends. But, a call came in to break up the summer of "life on pause." The woman who had directed the Junior Choir at our church called to talk with my mom. Bettye Lee had served this choir for years, embracing kids in that challenging "approaching and into middle school age" with a combination of humor, strictness and, always, professionalism--or, as close to that as you get with this age of kid. I was for...
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