Tenor Christmas Quotes

Needed: some tenors! Our group is short two tenors for our turn caroling in the square! All are welcome. Please message me if you can sing! ~Randolph Clark posted to the What’s up Neighbor app

Now will you help me put on my shirt?" he bellowed,exasperated and more than a little embarrassed. Brownyn shook her head, her blue eyes large with apprehension. "I absolutely refuse to touch you." Anger flashed in his good eye and in its wake left a coldness that gave her chills. Whatever she had just said instantly changed his mood and the tenor of their quarrel. "Yes,you will, woman," he gritted out. "I am starving and have already skipped one meal listening to you babble about your desires,but I refuse to miss another.

Christmas didn’t fix everything; it started fixing everything. Meanwhile, we continue to wait, with all the biggest items on our lists unchecked. And yet, after Christmas, after the baby, the tenor of our wait is different. Now, we’re not waiting alone. Now, we’re waiting with the God who could have remained above it all but chose to dive into it with us and not leave us until the end.

So, Jim, are you going to sing a solo at the Christmas concert?" Bruce Holtzman whispered to me as we sat in our usual seats in the back of the crescent-shaped dais, strategically placed between the basses and the tenors. “I know you’ve been saying you don’t want to, but you still have a few days to practice – if you change your mind, that is.” “I don’t think so,” I muttered back as quietly and firmly as possible. Class was still in session, and even though Mrs. Quincy was easygoing and not as strict as some of the other teachers at South Miami High School, she still expected us to focus on learning our songs for the concert and behaving like mature young adults. Not like “a bunch of undisciplined hooligans,” as she once put it. “But it’s an easy way to get extra credit,” Bruce persisted. “I don’t get it. You’ve been a Singing Cobra for what? Nearly a year now? And we only get a few chances to shine per semester, you know.” “Bruce,” I said, trying to keep my voice low and calm so as not to draw attention. “I don’t mind singing in a group, as part of a larger unit. Singing a solo? That’s another story altogether.” “Why? What’s the difference?” “I don’t know,” I confessed. “Safety in numbers, maybe? I’m perfectly happy to sing the songs in the program and let others who want to sing a solo strut their stuff. I get nauseous at the thought of going on stage and singing all by myself in front of everyone in the auditorium.” “Why, Jim,” Bruce exclaimed with a surprised, puzzled tone, “don’t tell me you still get stage fright!” “Hey,” I snapped, “pipe down, man. Do you want us to get in trouble with Mrs. Quincy? I’m not doing a solo. End of story.” “Okay, okay,” Bruce said in a placating tone. “But that extra credit sure will look good on your transcripts come next year. Especially if you want to get a scholarship.