WIth Our Voices Raised

The changing times have got me thinking about the plain power of the humble human voice. Perhaps it was the compelling oratory of President-Elect Obama that started the ball rolling, but there have been a couple tangentially linked events that have kept the issue top of mind for me.

One was Pete Seeger's recent appearance on the David Letterman. Who'd have believed such a thing would even be possible? It's was odd in so many ways - only one of which was an octogenarian getting a TV audience to sing a folk song, in 2008. But Pete was doing what he's always done: singing out. In this case, with a tribute to Martin Luther King that highlighted the role of singing in advancing the cause for which they both fought so hard, way back when. "Take it from Dr. King, you too can learn to sing..."

A fellow warrior from that same historic effort passed away just last week. Odetta was a larger-than-life figure: her majestic voice exemplified the Civil Rights movement, and her personal presence was immense. She sang the songs of daily struggle in the terms of eternal struggle; she understood that songs are not only musical; they are magical, and to sing them is holy. What a shame that Odetta died before being able to sing at President Obama's inauguration; what a glory it is that she lived long enough to see him win the race.

Not everyone who raises his or her voice does so in song. Like Seeger, Studs Terkel was a survivor of the McCarthy blacklists. Like Seeger, he rose above it, striving in a lengthy career as a broadcaster and writer to keep America's oral traditions alive. His voice was not a weapon, but a tool - a tool for encouraging others to speak. Together they spoke in a voice that has never been silenced for long; the voice of freedom in America. Terkel died only days before his fellow Chicagoan accepted the will of that voice at Daly Field.

North of the border, it seems as if our present is running a little counter to history: parliament shut down; leaders retreating rather than stepping forward. Yet the people refuse to be silent here, too: the Canadian media is alive with commentary as we find ourselves staring at deep cracks in the foundations of our democratic institutions.

And just the other day, in unlikeliest of places, something very special happened: I heard the Canadian voice break out in song. It was at the opening of an NFL Football match in Toronto's Skydome. A singer clearly on foreign soil was earnestly making a mess of our national anthem. The crowd waited politely, but growing increasingly restless, until suddenly, spontaneously, the entire stadium erupted in the loudest version of O Canada I've ever had the privilege to hear.

I like the sound of us that way. We're surprisingly in tune with our voices raised.