Research says that singing in choirs is good for brain structure. Confirming this is an article our son Jes sent us.
Jes's comment was that Daddy Bert must've been onto something with that!
"I was reading Gram's diary and it would talk about how he'd sing in at least 2 choirs on a Sunday! Probably was pretty good for his brain!"
Here is the rest of the story from Chris about his grandfather Daddy Bert:
Yes, Daddy Bert had a low baritone almost Bass voice. But he didn't have the timber to be a bass so he was considered a baritone. He sang in the Spokane Men's choir for years. I suppose the other choirs were church choirs. I remember as a little boy we were visiting Trail BC which was built along a river running through the city. One morning he took me for a walk along path by the river and then stopped to lean on a railing to look at the water. As we we stood there watching the water he started singing and I can still hear him in my mind singing "Old Man River." It is such a vivid memory that I swear I can actually hear him. He meant a lot to me as I didn't have a dad.
This brings back more memories. During WW2, my mother and I had moved to Spokane and we lived with Daddy Bert and my grandmother on Knox street in Spokane. I couldn't have been more than three or four but I have vague memories of having breakfast with him sometimes before he went to work as an engineer building the Farragut Naval Supply Depot in the Bayview, ID area. He would leave Spokane, probably about five or six to drive to Bayview – in those days there were no freeways and most of the highways were narrow and two lanes – the drive was probably a couple hours each way. You may wonder why the Navy would have the supply depot for the Pacific in Idaho. The thought was that the Japanese couldn't bomb it as it was so far inland (there was a significant fear during the war of an attack on the Mainland).
When I was five or so my mother and I moved to an apartment on Broadway Ave. After the war, Daddy Bert had taken a job with the Washington State Highway Department in Olympia. He would come over to visit when he could and always at Christmas. That Christmas he gave me my first bicycle and he proceeded to go out with me so he could teach me how to ride it. Those winters in the late 1940s and early 1950s had very heavy snowfalls so the sidewalks were lined with long piles of snow that was cleared from the walkway. I would get on the bike and he would give me a shove and I peddled like crazy until I would fall over, landing in the snow. This was a great way to learn to ride and I learned rather quickly.
Those memories of him singing while looking over the river, my having breakfast with him, and of his teaching me to ride my first bicycle are so real they bring tears to my eyes even today, some 75 years later.
Proverbs 3:1 My son, do not forget my teaching, but let your heart keep my commandments, 2 for length of days and years of life and peace they will add to you.
