When I attended Vicksburg High School, I sang in the choir under the direction of one of my most influential teachers, Cinda Cramer. She was emotional, tireless and ready with encouragement—or redirection of behavior, as needed. If “significant educator” awards had been given at that time, she would have been selected by so many of us! She was a difference-maker and left this earth too soon.
As part of the annual spring concert, she honored each senior choir member, and we sang “Michigan Morn,” a beautiful piece written by H. Owen Reed.
“There is gold in the eye of the morning, in Michigan where I was born.
There is gold in the sky and the lakes and the trees;
For a man with a will to believe what he sees
There is gold in the eye of the morn.”
The song is full of optimism and love of our state and of its beauty and bounty. It filled us with pride as we sang. It still fills me with pride as I listen to a version I found online.
“There is gold in the sound of the morning, in Michigan where I was born.
There is gold in the song and wherever it rings
The land where I stand shines with fine golden things
There is gold in the sound of the morn.”
When I was a senior, Cinda asked Alan Bartlett and me to sing the coveted tenor and soprano solos. We sang outside in the high school’s courtyard, now the foundation for the Performing Arts Center. We stood on risers under a band-shell Cinda had campaigned and fund-raised for. It was a beautiful night, and the audience was filled with our families and friends. We lifted our innocent and pure voices as one.
“There is gold in the touch of the morning, in Michigan where I was born.
There is gold in the seed as it flows from my hand
In the honey and milk and the fruit of my land
There is gold in the touch of the morn.”
I love those lyrics, and they seem more fitting for fall. When the harvesting is underway. And the evenings are cooling. And the maples and birches glow.
The coming of winter brings gratitude. For home. For food. For family. For friends.
Yes, in the last year many of us have suffered loss, and the coming holiday gatherings are bittersweet. There is grief, but there can be snippets of joy in togetherness. There might be a face missing around the table, but there are also memories of gold.
There is gold in the heart of the morning, in Michigan, where I was born.
There is gold in the smile of wild roses that grow
At the roadside where I and my true lover go
There is gold in the heart of the morn.
And even during winter, there is always the coming light.
There is gold in the eye and the sound and the touch.
And the heart of a Michigan morn.
It’s a Fine Life
[The song can be found on YouTube by entering “Michigan State University chorus sings Michigan Morn by H. Owen Reed.”]
