A Day in the Life: MoTab Tour Edition

8:00 am. I wake up in my comfortable hotel bed and wonder how I can still be this tired after sleeping for nine hours. Tour is exhausting – amazing, but exhausting. Yet so worth it. While others are out and about early, running in Central Park and eating breakfast at all the trendy restaurants, Holly and I catch up on much needed rest.

9:30 am. I grab breakfast and get on a bus to head uptown for our sound check at Yankee Stadium. Bus rides are one of the best parts of going on tour with the choir. At home, we go to rehearsal, we sing, and we go home. Here, we finally get to chance to know each other. One of my favorite questions to ask new friends on the bus is, “How did you end up in the choir?” One person shares their story and others join in. Everyone has taken a different path to get to MoTab, and each of us will always remember our story like it was yesterday. Some people dreamed of this all their lives while others sort of just found themselves here. Regardless of the path we all took to get here, one thing is for certain: we’re supposed to be here. We are all such different people – different lives, different personalities, different everything, but this experience ties us all together in a very unique way.

10:15 am. We arrive at Yankee Stadium. YANKEE STADIUM. Is this real life?! There’s a buzz of excitement and anticipation in the air as we clump together in a small tunnel – well, small for 350 people, at least. One of the most entertaining things to watch the choir do is attempt to line up in an orderly fashion. This time, it’s especially chaotic because we have a new seating chart, and we have to get out on the field and in straight, organized lines in a very short time period. We are so cramped that everyone is shoulder to shoulder, trying to pass through each other, not really knowing where to go. So, random people hold up their hands to signify which row they are in, and everyone in their row flocks to those people. It’s actually sort of a miracle, really, that whether it’s a concert or a sound check or a major league baseball game, it always works out by the time we have to walk out. Ironically, these are the little moments I always remember when I think about tour, the simple times when we are all just trying to do our own tiny part in the grand scheme of things, and it all comes together. I love these people.

11:00 am. IT’S TIME. Within minutes we are on the field, all lined up. It feels surreal and electric. WE ARE STANDING IN YANKEE STADIUM. Even those of us who aren’t baseball fans can’t deny how awesome this is. We should probably be quiet right now, but we can’t help but look around and smile and giggle at each other. There aren’t really words to describe it. I look up at our fearless leader, Mack, squinty eyed from the sunshine, standing patiently on the podium waiting for his cue to start. He’s even smiling a little, I think. Nothing makes me happier than a tiny smirk from Mack. The excitement remains as we sing through all our songs, and just like that, we’re done. We’ll be back tomorrow for the real deal.

12:00 pm. We’re herded back on the bus and head back to the hotel. We’ve got a few hours to kill, but the tiredness is hitting us even though it’s only noon. Sleep sounds like heaven. But we are in New York City! We’ll find our second wind, right? A small group of us head to Brooklyn with some new friends from KSL. This time, it’s a mix of people, some single, some married, some older, some younger. But despite our differences and the fact that some of these people didn’t even know each other before today, it feels like we’ve been friends for ages. Another choir phenomenon. We make our way to Grimaldi’s (YUM) where we end up sitting next to a family from Arizona who is on a Church history tour. We hurry across the Brooklyn Bridge on foot. Time is short and the most important part of the day is soon: CARNEGIE HALL.

4:30 pm. We hurry back to the hotel on the subway. Candice from KSL convinces me and Holly to sing “New York, New York” on the train. Holly is a little shy until you get to know her, but on this train? Not so much. She sings at the top of her lungs and even adds some choreography while I tentatively join in. “People are going to think we’re crazy,” I think. Yet no one on the train is even batting an eye. That’s New York for you, I guess! I can’t help but be grateful for good friends and good people… yet again.  We arrive at the hotel, get ready and changed for the concert, and head out.

6:30 pm. Thus begins the walking caravan of the entire Mormon Tabernacle Choir and Orchestra at Temple Square through the busiest streets of NYC. Why is this so funny to me? Hundreds of people in maroon dresses weaving in and out of the normal people? Here, we are the weird ones. And we embrace it. We are peculiar, yes, but we’re also happy. Because we’re going to sing at Carnegie Hall. CARNEGIE HALL! Here comes the lining up process again, this time, out on the street outside of the hall. I start looking for my row when there’s some excited commotion nearby. It’s Leslie, one of my dearest Sesame Street puppeteer friends! She is especially dear to me because of the experiences I got to share with her (and Carmen) during the Christmas concert. I rush to the front of the crowd, tap her on the shoulder, and she squeals with delight as she gives me a huge hug. She is part of the MoTab family and always will be. I realize I should probably get back to finding my row when I realize they’re nowhere to be seen – I got so caught up in the excitement, I didn’t realize they were already inside! Oops. I hurry inside and find my spot in line just in time. As I get to my seat, I see my other Sesame Street BFF Carmen sitting in the very front of the balcony. She blows kisses and is bursting with excitement. It means the world that these two would take the time to come hear us perform.

7:30 pm. Concert time. There are concerts, and then there are CONCERTS. This is a CONCERT. We are all exhausted, but a new wave of energy hits us collectively as we take it all in. The seats are filled. The hall is beautiful. These people are my family. I take a deep breath and feel like pinching myself. 5 ½ years in the choir, and I still can’t believe how lucky I am to be here. But now is the hard part: the actual singing. The audience applauds as Mack walks up to the podium. Oh, Mack. How I love and honor and revere that man. Another deep breath… I want to make him proud, now more than ever. I commit to myself that I will focus on making every single note what it needs to be tonight. I will not be complacent. I will not get lazy. I will think about every correction and reminder he has given us since we started rehearsing this music. And I will do the best I can to do my part. Singing the way Mack and Ryan ask us to is not easy. It takes constant effort, mental focus, and physical exertion. You’d never know it until being there yourself. But oh, how it’s worth it. It’s worth it because when we do all we can, the Lord steps us in and allows us to be His instruments. We share a message – a feeling – that cannot be expressed any other way.

The entire choir and orchestra organization really is a big family. Spending this much time with each other brings out all sorts of quirks and weaknesses, but it also brings out the good in us, too. There's really no way to describe how this experience (not just tour, but everything we do) brings us together. Every person has a story to tell. You would never know the crazy things people have been through when you watch us perform. It may look like we all live sheltered lives when you see all the wonderful adventures we have been having, but there is so much more to all this than that. We all have battle wounds. So many difficult battles have been fought by these people, some won, some lost, and some still being fought. But it's the battles and the victories, and the learning and the growing that makes what we sing about so important. Together we find peace, joy, healing, and mutual understanding that we can't really put into words. But we can share it through the music. And we hope that others can feel that when they listen to it.

The concert concludes. Mack and Ryan walk out with big grins on their faces and I tear up a little. I have no words, just gratitude.

10:00 pm. I should probably head back to the hotel and go straight to bed, but this time, I decide to stick around and talk to people for a while. This is not expected and probably not even encouraged, but it’s a rare opportunity and I can’t help it. I meet a man from Chile who was given his first MoTab cassette tape when he was ten. He owns every single tape, cd, and dvd that the choir has released since then, and he traveled all the way from Chile just for this concert. Wow. We don’t often get to hear about the impact we have on people, so I’m grateful for this little moment. I also get to see my Sesame Street friends again, all crying because of how they were touched during the concert. Paul (Leslie’s husband) tells me about how he can never find the right words to describe what their Christmas concert experience meant to them. He doesn’t need words for me; I already know exactly what he is talking about.

10:45 pm. I finally walk back to the hotel with a few choir friends. We keep running into people who have attended our concert, some of whom have traveled a long distance to be there. They all have a light sort of happiness in their aura. I like to hope it has something to do with what we all just experienced, together.

11:15. I stop for cheesecake (obviously), head up to my room, and collapse on my bed, as does my roommate. We share our feelings and thoughts about the concert, both in awe that we are here. Both exhausted. Who knows if I’ll make it into my pajamas tonight… I’m too tired. But it’s the kind of tired that I know came from the best kind of work. I’m grateful. I’m happy. I’m going to bed.