This morning, I woke up a bit late and was feeling really lazy, so I didn’t go any of the morning services. Instead, I made time to go to this evening’s mass. Now, when the opening hymn started, I was treated to some of the most horrible noises coming out of someone’s mouth. I was seriously shocked at how appallingly off key this person was. Most people who are tone deaf are aware of it to some degree. As a result, they’ll at least turn down the decibels. Oh no, this woman did not even bother. She was belting out the tunes as if she wanted the whole world to hear. At some points during the service, I tried to surreptitiously lean over to my left so that I would not take the full blast of her diaphragm. Unfortunately, bending at the hip and leaning off to one side just looks odd.

I dunno. At some point in her youth, she must have been told, “oh what a voice you have!” Perhaps she didn’t see through the veiled words and thought it was a compliment. This is the result, folks! She was wavering and flirting with her voice like a good singer would, except coming from her it was like she was on a slowly vibrating platform while having her throat massaged violently. It’s the kind of shit that you’d see and hear on American Idol or perhaps to a lesser extent Canadian Idol. See, if she would at least listen to the pitch of the people around her, she’d know where to hit. But no! If the song went down, she’d go down. If the song went up, she’d go up. Thing is she’d never hit right on. If you were to somehow average out her pitch on a musical staff, I’d say that you’d be able to discern the proper melody.

The people in front of me were shaking their heads on every bad note and murmuring among themselves at the horror. It was so bad that she was affecting my ability to hit notes. You know how that is? Normally I’d be able to sing along without sounding like an idiot. However, her bad notes were so overpowering that I couldn’t find my way to the right pitch. As a result, I shut myself up for just about the whole mass. As soon as the mass ended, I ran out of there as fast as I could. There was no point subjecting myself to that torture any longer.

Now, I’m not claiming to have a great voice. Far from it. Thing is, I have the sense to know it. (I can hold my own though in karaoke, but that’s another story)

As the Pope nears death, my mind is running through a lot of thoughts right now.

He’s the only Pope I’ve known. He stopped by Vancouver (or close by) in the early 80s. I remember my family heading off to see him. I was too young to remember any specific details, but I do remember waiting out in the sun for a long time. Three colours seem to run strongly in my mind. The field we were at had vivid green grass. It contrasted greatly with the white and yellow stage where the Pope was to appear.

I had another opportunity to see Pope John Paul II when he dropped by Toronto for World Youth Day…2002 (I think). Although he was so close, I chose not to go attend the events. I had work at the time, and I didn’t feel right taking a few days off. I don’t think I regret my decision. I was content enough to see the festivities on the television. I don’t think I would have been able to deal with the crowds. He looked…energized being surrounded by youth. He was seemingly able to keep up. I remember writing in this blog (in an entry that happened before the big wipeout of 2003) about how it was seeing youth from different nations throughout the transit system. All the different flags, and different languages weren’t enough to divide everyone who had gathered in this city for one purpose.

Over the past few months, seeing him in brief news reports speaking about his health deteriorating has made me feel pity. Seeing him trying to speak, but only being able to make a few grunts, in my mind, was a sign that he was nearing his end. Right now, especially with his recent heart failure and going into toxic shock, I can’t help but wish that he would die soon so as not to prolong his suffering.

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On a slightly different note, all this talk of the passing of a pope is reminding me of Angels & Demons by Dan Brown. I was reading a brief description of procedures after the passing of a pope in The Toronto Star and it mentioned terms I had learned in Brown’s book, like “camerlengo”, or the “chamberlain”. The camerlengo acts as sort of a custodian in between the death of a pope and the election of the new pope. He oversees the government while there is no head.

Now, I know there are no murder plots or intrigue involved like in the book, but it’s still a bit eerie to make the inevitable comparisons.

*Yeesh…I’ve incorrectly spelled camerlengo all this time. It’s now corrected.