I had my Ralphie moment the other day.

You know. That moment when you get something that you always wanted, but didn’t think that you were actually ever going to get? Like, for example, an official Red Ryder, carbine action, two-hundred shot range model air rifle.

Well, that happened to me last week. Except the object of my desire wasn’t a BB gun. (I already have one of those.) It wasn’t even Tinker Toys (personally, I prefer Lincoln Logs.) Or a football. (Why I’m referencing this movie a month after Christmas ended, I don’t know.)

The object of my desire was a place in the All State Chorus.
And somehow, someway, it happened. Perhaps it was Santa Claus. (He owes me a few favors.) But I’m not certain.

Two words: Divine intervention. That’s my theory.

About a month ago, I wrote about attending the CMEA Connecticut Eastern Region Festival at UConn, which was an absolute blast. The last time I participated in a music festival was during my tenth grade year. That was a band festival, and I spent most of it trying to figure out how to put the headpiece onto my flute and the other half of the time trying to get a noise to come out of it. Needless to say, I was the pride and joy of the band.

Before that, I had participated in the CMEA’s Middle School Eastern Region festival as a member of the choir. I remember this more fondly than my band experiences, because I actually felt like I knew what I was doing. It was enjoyable. It was also extremely educational.

Indeed, I learned two very important lessons that weekend, the first being that eighth grade boys apparently possess the creativity to craft  more bad music pick-up lines than I previously would have ever have given them credit for.

The second lesson – and, arguably, the more important one – was claiming you can’t give your cell phone number to said eighth grade boys because "cell phone use is against your religion, so you don’t have one" only works until your mom calls you as you’re standing right in front of the little, lovestruck Pavarotti’s.
 

So, as you can imagine, when I participated in the Eastern Region festival at the beginning of January, I was thrilled to be singing (which I could do with at least some competence) in a semi-professional ensemble. Where the people were many, and the cheesy musical pick up lines were empty. (Or, not "empty." Actually, "nonexistent," is the better word to use. But that would have interrupted the Dylan reference.) Where I learned so much more about singing than about the mating habits of tenors and basses. And where I was able to connect with other singers from around the Eastern Region.

But I was left wanting more.

This weekend, when I auditioned for the All-State Chorus, I knew the chances of me making it in were slim to none. I had comfortably made the Eastern Region festival, but I had barely made the higher cut off score at my regional audition to move onto the All State auditions. And I knew the competition for States would be a lot harder to beat.

I would be competing with about one hundred Sopranos from around the state, many professionally trained, for only fifty spots in the Chorus. Not to mention the fact that no one else from Wheeler had made the All State festival in nearly eight years was looming over my head. My parents and my choral teacher were optimistic and encouraging. I told my Mom I figured the chances of me making it in were only slightly greater than the chances of me winning a road race. And I told her we both knew that would never happen.

She said, "Rebecca, just go in and sing."

And so I did, and the scores on the solo and scales portions of my audition reflected my confidence. But unlike my last audition, I didn’t receive any help from the sight singing Gods this time around. I found this quite inconvenient, because the sight singing activity was nothing short of hellish. In short, I comfortably bombed that segment of the audition.

Afterward, I was pretty sure my sight singing bomb had crippled my score beyond repair and my All State ambitions had just a little sad, strange, Mozartian death.

And then this week, I learned my score was high enough to make the All State Chorus. It was, hands down, probably the greatest, and most pleasant surprise I’ve received in a very, very long time. So, come the beginning of April I will be spending three days at the Convention Center in Hartford rehearsing and performing with Connecticut’s top high school singers and musicians, which, at the beginning of the school year, I never would have dreamed I’d be doing. I really can’t wait.

But, seriously, do you want to know the best thing about a spot in the All State Chorus?

It can’t shoot your eye out.