Cori Connors: Kelly DeHaan

My Annie

My girl is overtaxed. Too much going out, not enough coming in. A light-hearted soul with a big ole wad of heavy. In one of my parental post-prayer pondering moments it hit me: Give her Kelly DeHaan.

Kelly has the most massive heart for music, and Annie loves music. One might think that so much musical dedication would use up someone’s heart space, but for Kelly the love of music is overpowered by the love of people. Serious people-love. I have no idea where he gets the drive or energy to fit all that in there.

I’ve worked and played with Kelly enough to know how therapeutic time with him can be. The angels assigned to Annie whispered, again… “Give her Kelly.”

So I did.

Kelly DeHaan.

I signed us up to sing with Utah Voices, the adult choir Kelly directs.(He also directs Mountain Ridge High School choirs, and Hale Center Theater musicals). I’ve served on the Advisory Board of Utah Voices since its inception, under the artistic direction of our friend Dr. Michael Huff. I've performed with them as their guest artist a few times, with the choir singing majestic harmonies to my simple folk tunes. I believe in this choir. The voices that unite in song are joyful and dedicated and talented.

Kelly took over Michael’s baton when Mike took the position of choral music director at Snow College. Lucky for us, they meet Wednesday nights just a few miles away in Bountiful Utah for rehearsals. I cleared all my Wednesday evenings and blocked out my Annie-time. Making one’s body create music is therapeutic in itself. Making music with Kelly is first-rate therapy. Add to that the added bonus that we get to hear the magnificent piano work of Kelly’s grown son Tanner, and the lovely alto voice of his wife Shelly, and the capable and kind assistant directorship of Eric Noyes… these all add sparkle to my Annie-time. They are a thick, delicious, sweet and buttery layer of frosting on my Annie cake.

Tonight, Annie and I sat beside each other in our long black dresses with strings of pearls on our necks and sang out hearts out for the Broadway Bingo concert. I could not help repeatedly cranking my neck opposite Kelly so I could see the face of my girl, watch her radiate as she sang. She has an angel voice, much better than mine, especially for a choir. My voice was made for folk music. I sing in storytelling snippets. I have terrible air control, my vibrato on sustained notes gets all wide and wobbly. And I don’t read music well. Pretty much everyone around me sings choir music better than I do. But the great thing about singing in a choir is that it’s ok, we kinda cover for each other, and if you need to catch a breath here and there, no one would know. Choir singing is pretty divine. The total, in a well-directed choir, is greater than the sum of the parts.

The view from where we sat tonight.

My youngest child, my Annie, melts my heart with her songs. All my girls do, as well as my boy. I remember when I was pregnant with Annie praying that she would be able to sing, because it would be hard to live in a singing family and not be able to join in the heavenly throng, so to speak. While I understand that God, in his wisdom, does not give us everything we think we want, he did give me that one.

There’s one song on my album One Small Boy where my three daughters sing harmony against my voice. I can, if I am still and listening well, pick out each individual voice in the harmonies of “Noel”. I can see the faces of my beloved daughters, hear the personalities in their voices. But if I am not searching for each individual voice, what I hear is divine familial harmony that defies definition.

Sarah and Kate and I in the studio
laying down vocal tracks for the song Noel.
Annie tracked her high soprano part later.

For being a musical family we don’t often get to sing together. I cherish that day in the studio with my three girls around the microphone, as much as I cherish the multiple times I have shared the stage and added harmonies to the masterful songs written and sung by with my son. And, of course, year after year, I have sung the parts of Joseph and Mary with the man of my dreams who shares in the parenting of these children. I rejoice in the songs that have bound our family through the years of our sojourn on earth.

My three girls, Annie, Sarah and Kate.

Kate adds sweet harmonies in my Christmas concert.
Nicole Pinnel on cello behind her.

Joseph and Mary.

Our poet son, John.

Tonight, standing next to my Annie, with my dear friend Kelly directing us, I felt part of a holy triangle. There may have been hundreds of people in that hall, but to me, for a few sweet hours of song, there were only the three of us: Kelly, my Annie, and me.