JUST A GAL FROM GLIDDEN: Hallelujah and Big Balls: A life soundtracked by love and laughter
By Kate Winquist
I usually use this column to talk sports—football, baseball, maybe the odd hockey mention—but there’s something bigger than sports that’s been a constant in my life: music.
Last week, I wrote about my sisters playing Christmas carols on the piano, daring anyone brave enough to sing along. Me? My piano skills are limited to Chopsticks, the first few bars of Scott Joplin’s The Entertainer, and the opening of The Rainbow Connection. I tried band in school—trumpet first, then clarinet once braces came along—but by high school, art won out and band was left behind (sorry, Mr. Aulinger). Listening, however? That was serious business.
Mom and I - Christmas 1983
I spent hours with Casey Kasem’s American Top 40 on CKCK Radio, tape recorder at the ready, hoping to catch the latest hits—and even jotting down the entire countdown on a pad of paper. Zellers in the Kindersley Mall stocked the best albums, and my allowance went entirely to records and TDK 90-minute cassettes. Those mixed tapes became the soundtrack for cruising Main Street in Dad’s 1986 Chev Wrangler. Today, all those tapes, records, CDs, and 45s still live in my basement—and my kids are already squabbling over who gets Mom’s collection when my time comes.
My tastes lean classic rock: AC/DC, Led Zeppelin, Queen, Red Rider—you name it. Mom, on the other hand, lived for harmonies, show tunes, and church choir songs. Most Sundays, she’d be in the kitchen singing Rodgers & Hammerstein or The Womenfolk while baking or cooking, making even a grocery list sound like a performance.
One Christmas, I got yellow styrofoam headphones to enjoy my music without disturbing the household. Perfect plan—except I forgot to turn off the speaker function. Cue AC/DC’s Big Balls blasting through the stereo. Mom’s “look” will live in my memory forever. Embarrassing? Absolutely. Hilarious? Even better.
December 11 will mark a year since Mom passed, and music still brings her back. At her funeral last May, we included some of her favourites, like The Dukes of Dixieland, and Clayton Braybrook’s special rendition of Hallelujah was nothing short of perfect:
Funeral Hallelujah for Bev Drummond
Revised lyrics by Clayton Braybrook
We’ve heard there was a secret chord
That David played and it pleased the Lord,
And we will do our best to sing it for ya.
It goes like this, the fourth, the fifth,
The choir is re-composing Hallelujah.
Hallelujah …
Bev’s faith was strong, her heart was true
The power of knowledge well she knew,
he also sang in four-part harmony.
She raised a loving family,
Took part in many activities,
A vital member of community.
Hallelujah …
Her meals were great, she loved to read,
She solved a lot of mysteries,
She joked about her two Masters degrees.
For normal folks that’s quite enough,
But this journey was twice as tough,
MS be danged, she sang her Hallelujah.
Hallelujah …
The Scriptures say the Lord above
Prepares a place for us with love,
So let that be a heartfelt message to ya.
And even though the bell has rung,
She’ll stand before the Lord of song,
With nothing but her lips but Hallelujah.
Hallelujah …
Somewhere up there, I like to imagine Mom shaking her head while tapping her foot to Big Balls, laughing because somehow our worlds of classic rock and Rodgers & Hammerstein collided perfectly—just like they did here on Earth. Music, in all its forms, keeps us laughing, remembering, and connected.