Chapter 2: Monticello, Iowa

When Vika Konchakovskaya was asked how she liked the host home where she was staying, she said, “It’s like being in a movie.” The beautiful little town of Monticello, Iowa, certainly has its charm. Quiet streets, small town center, many spreading maple trees, people who greet each other (whether friend or stranger), very few cars, a quaint community surrounded by fields of corn and blankets of green.

This was the fifth visit of the KSOC to Monticello, the last being four years ago. The people here are so kind to our Ukrainians They feed them well and give them interesting things to do. For instance, the first evening (Friday) the KSOC practically took over a local bowling alley. Most of them had not bowled before, but they had so much fun learning. At the end of the evening, one person missed the bus, but local citizens came to the rescue and made sure that he got home safely.

On Saturday, all of us enjoyed a lazy morning being with the host families. Then at 2 pm the group gathered at Monticello High School for rehearsal. Breaking in a new orchestra, as we have many of our key players with other tours to Japan or Holland, was a challenge as our repertoire is new to our recruits. But the time was well spent because the concert that evening was marvelous.

The only big mistake was made by Roger, when he skipped the processional and went from the overture to the introduction of the Rachmaninoff. Vika waved frantically from the rear of the gym. “The choir! The choir!” she said. But Roger didn’t hear her as he talked into the microphone. He only realized the impossibility of the situation when he turned around and there was no choir behind him.

The sales area was outside the gymnasium in a long hallway. It looked like a shopping mall. This year we have three six-foot high banners that announce our products.  The one beside the book-signing table says “Books by Diane McMurrin” and has two books and the audio book pictured. Beside the CD table is a banner with the covers of all our CDs, which say, “Take us home as a memory” and the third is beside the souvenir table, which reads “Ukrainian Souvenirs” but the word “souvenirs” is misspelled. Why don’t they ask for proofing from a native English speaker on these things?

The tour brochure this year is the best ever, selling at $10. The audio book of the Splendor of His Music is new this year, and The Last Flowers Before Winter is new to the western states. Unfortunately we have no 2009 calendars yet, as they are still in customs in Orlando and will have to be shipped ahead, probably to Billings, Montana. We have 12 helpers in sales, and also swipers for credit card sales. This really speeds things along, though there was no Internet at the school so we had to improvise in using them.

We have a guest book this year that the friends and supporters of Music Mission Kiev can sign to help us remember their attendance at a concert. There were people who drove from Illinois, Ohio, and other surrounding states in order to witness our first concert. I had such a good time greeting old friends and new.  Brenda Tompkins who is administering the sales and the logistics of the tour, allowed me the freedom to only sign books and meet with people. I don’t have a moneybox to maintain this year. I love it!

After the concert, the Ukrainians were invited to a bonfire, another opportunity for fellowship. Roger and I went to a party sponsored by his high school alumnae. Last year was his 50^th high school reunion, and there were about 25 people attending. 

The next morning was Sunday, and we divided into three groups to lead the music in local churches. Roger and I went with the largest group to the Wayne Zion Lutheran Church with 50 orchestra players, 30 singers, and 4 soloists.  All the Scripture read in the service was in both English and Russian. Irina Loktionova served as translator, and Roger delivered the sermon, talking about mission in Ukraine. Since many of our orchestra are new to us, they were hearing the story of how Roger and I came to Ukraine and the ministries to widows, orphans, families, and prisoners, as well as music, for the first time. Now they know what they have become a part of.

After the service, the church served a pot luck dinner for the musicians and the entire congregation – a total of 400 people.  I was told that the term “pot luck” used to be called “Pot Grace.”  This Lutheran church is known to feed people abundantly, and no one goes away hungry. Fantastic food!   

From there, the musicians were to be taken to a local park called Camp Courageous with an indoor swimming pool.  Eleanor Nesbit, a supporter of MMK from Tampa, is with us for two weeks as a volunteer. She will drive our car for us, so that we can rest in readiness for the daily concerts. Eleanor had her things in the car, but was ready to go to the park with the Ukrainians on the bus.

We had two keys to the car, tied together by a strong black wire and a push-button door opener.  I had kept the keys in my purse most of the morning.  Eleanor took the keys to retrieve her sport clothes, which she changed into after lunch. I took them back from her as she stood talking with people at the front door of the church. A few minutes later she told me she needed her bathing suit and towel from the car, and took them back again. We walked to the car together, and I began talking with a man who was overflowing with enthusiasm about his Ukrainian guests and how much he had enjoyed their company.  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Eleanor running to the bus as Bill, the bus driver, honked the horn. I realized I didn’t have the car keys. “Wait!” I called, chasing after her. Eleanor was now already on the bus.  “Do you have the keys?” I yelled. Eleanor leaned out the driver’s window. “No, I think I dropped them on the back seat.”

I returned to the car and searched for the keys. They were nowhere to be found. Roger was approaching the car. “I can’t find the car keys,” I said. “Have you looked in your purse?” he replied. I looked through all the contents, one time, two times, three times. Nothing!  What could have happened to those keys?

One of the church members, an 84-year-old woman drove us to our host home. Creighton Randolph, the coordinator of the Monticello event, was home with his wife Connie.  They had made us feel so comfortable, and we were looking forward to a Sunday afternoon nap.  When we told them of our dilemma, they were quick to help us.  They called Camp Courageous and talked to Eleanor and the bus driver. The bus was searched but there were no keys there. Eleanor could not imagine where the keys were, either.

Roger and I took our Sunday nap. When he woke up, Roger remembered that there was some keys turned in at the church around lunchtime, but he didn’t know at the time that we were missing our keys.  Roger and Connie went to the pastor’s home. “Have the keys that were turned in after church been claimed?” they asked. “Yes, they were,” the pastor said. He even called the family who took the keys to confirm that they were indeed theirs.

Then the pastor helped Roger and Connie search the church rooms. As they were searching, he said, “This is a funny day for keys.  While my wife and I were taking a walk, we saw a set of keys that had been crushed in the road about a half mile from here.”  He had left them there, thinking it was not important.

Roger and Connie again went to the car, and searched the floor, and any crevice where the keys could hide. No keys under the seat, no keys in the trunk, no keys under the car.

Meanwhile, the pastor drove to the site of the crushed keys, and retrieved them.  He showed them to Roger, and Roger said, “No, those are not my keys.”

Later Eleanor and Creighton searched the car a third time. They even took out the back seat. Still no keys!  If all else failed, Creighton was ready to call the Mercury dealer and get a new set of keys.

Then Eleanor remembered that she had gone to Brenda’s car, the car belonging to Brenda’s host after she got her bathing suit. Brenda had been busy talking on the phone, trying to trace the two missing pieces of luggage at the Chicago airport. We called Brenda. Had she seen any keys at her car? No! No keys. We sat in Creighton’s living room and prayed. Only God could bring those keys to us.

The amazing conclusion to this story is that those keys, which the pastor saw in the road, a half-mile from the church, were the very keys that belonged to our car.  While Creighton was making plans to tow the car and have the local Ford dealer make a new set of keys with the use of a computer, the phone rang. It was the pastor. He had taken the crushed set of keys, inserted them into the ignition, and the car engine started. We had found our keys!  Hooray!

But how did they get a half-mile from the church? Perhaps Eleanor had left them on Brenda’s car, and they fell off a half-mile down the road. We don’t know exactly! We just know that God answered our prayer.

The next morning at 7:30 am we gathered at the fairgrounds to load the suitcases onto the buses. It was time to bid farewell to our Monticello friends. So many memories! Some of our Ukrainians had witnessed the milking of cows on the farm, had flown in a small plane above the quilted fields of the countryside, floated on rubber tubes down the river, and Irina Zhook, 55-years-old, came to the park on the back of a motorcycle.  As we stood in a circle with our hosts, Roger recounted all the kindnesses that had been shown us. Then the Ukrainians sang Prayer of Ukraine, so tenderly and lovingly, many with their arms around their hosts’ waists. The bus horn tooted, and the people climbed aboard.  The three buses, which read Arrow Bus Lines, left the parking lot, with the residents waving behind them.

Now we had a long drive through some rain to the great state of South Dakota, and its fourth largest town, Watertown.

Chapter 3: Watertown, South Dakota

Roger, Eleanor, and I were the first to arrive at Watertown High School.
There would be plenty of space for sales in the hall between the auditorium and the gym. A shell had been set up on the stage with risers in front of it. And the chairs and stands for the orchestra were ready for us. Soon Andre and Vika arrived with the truck, and began unloading the timpani, and sales materials.  Finally the buses pulled in, and the Ukrainians were rolling their overnight suitcases into the building, carrying their performance costumes wrapped in plastic on hangers. 

There were two rooms side by side near the auditorium, the band room and the choir room.  They would have to manage in this space to store their things, and dress, perhaps in the bathrooms.  Roger assembled the singers on the risers, and the orchestra relaxed in the cafeteria where the dinner would soon be served.

We would rarely rehearse now. With nine concerts on the next nine days, traveling each day, all energy would be saved for the performance.  Dinner was a vegetable plate of potatoes, corn, coleslaw, and a dinner roll, with many choices for dessert.

Hint for future hosts: When preparing coleslaw, Ukrainians are used to a vinegar or plain mayonnaise dressing. Use little or no sugar.

The audience began to arrive at 6:30 for the 7 pm concert.  Though the auditorium was less than half full, the people were enthusiastic. One lady said to me, “You bring these wonderful musicians to Watertown. How do you do it?  They are marvelous.”  And indeed the Ukrainians gave a great concert!

The concert flowed well, and by the last encore of America the Beautiful, the audience was on its feet with patriotic awe. One family left the auditorium and handed me a large check, a donation for which I offered them to choose one of our paintings on display. Brenda was showing the wife the different paintings, and she said, “This one hung in Roger and Diane’s dining room in Kiev.” And that was the one that she chose.

We are still missing the calendars. They are out of customs now, but our three ladies in the office, Deby, Caitlin, and Ronnie, had to unload the truck themselves – 1900 pounds of paper. They will ship a couple of packages overnight to Sheridan, Wyoming, where we will be in a few days. And the rest of them will catch up with us in Seattle.

Luba Kanuka is now the only one without a suitcase. Lost in Chicago, it has her performance dress, and all her cosmetics. She is distressed, but is trying to cope with this situation. Among her solos in the concert are “Steal Away” and “A Boy Like that” from West Side Story, where she is Anita, and Alla Prigara is Maria.

The artist who painted the flowers on my new book, The Last Flowers Before Winter, was at the concert tonight with her husband.  Her name is Patricia Johnson. Roger bought the painting from her on his last tour in Watertown.

A number of our group was housed this evening in a monastery. Eleanor was thrilled to be on the list, “Great! I get to stay in a real monastery.  A few were a little bit nervous about this, but it turned out to be a fabulous memory.  The guest rooms were adjacent to sitting rooms, all beautifully furnished. Kostya and Katya, our souvenir salespeople, had a sitting room all to themselves.  “Time is to short,” said Katya, “we don’t have enough time to enjoy this.”  The nuns served an after-concert buffet of meats, cheeses, home made banana bread, muffins, homemade jam….. it was super! For breakfast the next morning they had an egg casserole with peppers and salsa that the group ate with enthusiasm. 

Five of the group was housed at a hotel. There was no food for them, and they were frustrated as they were so hungry!  But Brenda Tompkins and Marcia Johnson who were staying there as well, bought pizza for the group. Then they felt better.

Hint for future hosts: If Ukrainians must stay in a hotel, and we hope that they will not have to, they need food after the concert, even catered food left over from dinner.  They expend so much energy and give themselves 150% and food afterwards is very important. It doesn’t need to be pizza every time, but please furnish something.

The next morning we met at the Cornerstone Church.  The air was cool and the sky was blue.  Since we only had two hours to the next venue, we would stop at the ----Terry Redland Art Museum at the edge of town, and then to McCrory Gardens further down the road to eat our sack lunch. The only problem was that the venue had forgotten to pack lunches for us. And some scrambling was done to get some sandwiches and apples for 150 people. But they did so magnificently with generous sandwiches on very good bread, which I think, came from a gourmet deli.

Hint for future hosts: Please remember that we always need a sack lunch, every day. We cannot bring 150 people to a McDonalds, and the cost would be extraordinary for us. Your food is so appreciated.

Roger led the group in prayer by the buses and the choir sang “The Lord’s Prayer.” We have an easier day today with fewer miles. We will soon be at our next venue, Huron High School in Huron, South Dakota.

Chapter 4: Huron, South Dakota

Managing a group of 140 Ukrainians on an excursion is not easy. Though we stopped at the Redland Art Museum, which had an extensive collection of American art, about 40 of our group found their way to Wal-Mart about a quarter-mile away. Helen Sedikh, one of the bus captains, told her group to be back at noon. But Roger had set the gathering time at 11:15 am. Therefore we had mass confusion. I could tell Roger’s blood pressure was rising as he was trying to find missing people. “He doesn’t need to be doing this,” I told myself. “There are younger people who could manage this job.”

Fortunately, this was a day when we were not under a strict time line. Roger and I drove the car over to Wal-Mart and gave the stragglers a lift back to the bus. Finally we were on the road again, and an hour later we arrived at the lovely McCrory Gardens. There the group could wander and have a picnic on the lawn or sit on wooden benches that encircled huge flowerbeds displayed at eye level above stone walls which under-girded them.  I was very tired, and went to the car, to lie down for a nap in the back seat. The 65-degree air was so pleasant as it wafted through the open windows.

Soon Roger came to the car. He tried to nap on the reclined front seat, but then said, “Let’s get on to Huron.  Maybe I can go to the host home and rest there before the concert.” We traveled the Laura Ingles Wilder highway with lovely scenery and passed through her town, which was subtitled “Little House on the Prairie.”

When we realized we were almost out of gasoline in the prairie lands of South Dakota, we stopped at a small gas station, whose gas pumps read, “No Credit cards! No out-of-state checks!”  Roger had $30 in his pocket. That was enough to get us down the road.

He took the cash inside to pre-pay for the gas. The lady asked him, “Have you put it in the tank yet?”  So trusting these people were! Then when he had finished putting in $29.99 worth of gas, there was no shut-off valve. He could have taken all he wanted.

When we got to Huron an hour later, Roger was exhausted. Our phone was not working. The TREO phone that we carry was only receiving part of the calls, and most of the time no one could hear us speak. A new phone was on the way, but the frustration of being without communication was very troublesome to Roger.

We had a bassoonist that was having blood pressure problems, over 200 last night. We have a possible stroke victim. Nickolai needs to see a doctor.  We were trying to get the message to Brenda, but our phones couldn’t connect.

Finally Brenda was able to get a call through to us. She would arrange for the doctor. Then she said, “I have the place where you are staying for the night, and you can go there now to rest.  It’s at the Funeral Home.”  Roger asked if they had a coffin for each of us, and I said, “Shh! I can’t hear Brenda.”  In a few minutes we were unloading our concert clothes at the back of Kuhler’s Funeral Home, to an attached apartment that was as big as a house. Deb Kuhler welcomed us, and Roger went to the bedroom for a nap, while I typed some more Tour Tales. Sergei Golubnichy would take care of any rehearsal needed at the high school , and we would arrive after dinner ready for a concert. The staff would save us a plate of food. We are so grateful that people help us when we are weary. It is getting harder to keep up the pace at ages 63 and 69.

By the time I got to the High School, everything was set up and in order. The staff had set a plate of chicken and vegetables for me in a little room off the stage. I was told that the Ukrainian Mennonite community, though they couldn’t come to the concert, had sent part of the dinner—the baked potatoes, cabbage and tomato salad, and watermelon—which they had grown themselves and prepared for us. It was delicious!

The crowd tonight was much larger than the night before. There were also all ages represented. The auditorium was like a theater with cushioned, pull-down seats.  Our concert is more like a “show” with Roger as master of ceremonies. The audience loved it.

Luba was still without her concert dress, and it is doubtful now that her suitcase will ever be recovered. But Marcia Johnson gave all her make-up to Luba, and told her to choose whatever she wanted. Luba’s face was radiant, and she is handling this inconvenience quite well. Hopefully we will be able to get her a concert dress, whenever we have time to shop. She is wearing dressy black slacks and a black short-sleeved blouse for performing.

There were many cards turned in for the drawing, of which we pick out three. The second winner, Barb, told me it was her birthday, so the choir sang Happy Birthday to her from the stage.  Later she shared with this story:  She was with a group of four people, but they only had three cards. She gave her card to a friend, who later lost it and didn’t even enter the drawing. Then as she was walking up the aisle during intermission, she saw a card on the floor. She picked it up and said to herself, “Why not?” she filled it out and turned it in. When I called her name, she was so surprised. She had won a gift on her birthday.

The report from the doctor on Nikolay was that he should just get some rest.  How do you do that on this tour?  I’m wondering if his blood pressure cuff from Ukraine is faulty.

It was a very short night for sleep. We set the alarm for 5:15 a.m. Deb was up and had done our laundry and pressed two of Roger’s tux shirts.  After a breakfast of homemade granola, yogurt, and fresh fruit, we were on our way to James Valley Christian School where the buses were loading.

It was too early to sing a goodbye, but I hope that the hosts of Huron know how grateful we are. They were so kind and want us to come back again next time.  Roger, Eleanor, and I decided to go ahead of the buses on this 8-hour trip. So before dawn, we were driving like a dart down the country highway toward Sheridan, Wyoming.

Chapter 5: Sheridan, Wyoming

We arrived in Sheridan, Wyoming, two hours ahead of the buses.  Roger was hoping to find his host home to rest.  The housing chairman was still teaching at the college. We had two other numbers we could call, but we had a telephone crisis.  Roger’s TREO phone had died, Eleanor’s cell phone needed re-charging, and I couldn’t find my phone.  There we were in front on the WYO Theater on Main Street in the rain, and I was rummaging through the many little bags in the trunk, trying to find my phone.  In desperation we tried holding the TREO phone to the charging cord (for some reason, it didn’t’ connect well with the plug), and tried calling my phone, but we heard no ring. Then I found my phone under the seat, also needing a recharge.

Roger went to the Theater and called one of the Arts Council members who had received our new TREO phone by DHL. He arranged to pick it up at his home. Eleanor and I were waiting in the car.  “Something funny happened yesterday at the welcome center of Wyoming,” Eleanor said. “The musicians were picking up free maps, as they do for every state. A lady came to me and and asked about our group. When I told her who we were, she said, ‘You mean, you travel in buses, and stop in rest areas, and nobody recognizes how famous you are?’

I laughed. Roger was crossing the street, wearing his black and yellow striped shirt, brown corduroy pants, white sneakers, and carrying a small aqua umbrella. “And here comes our famous conductor,” I replied, giggling. Traveling day after day, our travel clothes are anything but sophisticated.

While Roger picked up his new phone, Eleanor and I decided to wait in the theater. “Strange that they don’t have our names on the billboard,” I said to Eleanor, as we entered the front door.  “We’re from the Kyiv Symphony Orchestra and Chorus,” I said with an official air to the lady at the ticket counter. “The truck will be here shortly to unload and the buses should be here at 4 p.m. May we wait here in your lobby and plug in my computer? I have some writing to do.”

“Help yourself,” replied the lady, courteously. I sat at a table, and finished a chapter of the Tour Tales. 

Eleanor went to examine the set-up. She came back with a frown. “The stage is too small for our orchestra. I don’t know how they will fit.”

“Let Roger handle that,” I said. “That’s his problem.”

Roger came in thirty minutes later, and said, “The buses are already here.”

 “Really? I didn’t hear anyone.” I said.

“Diane, the concert isn’t here. It’s at Sheridan College across town,” he said. He was already using his phone to make contact with the coordinators. (But it still wouldn’t receive e-mail.)

“But the MAPSCO told us to come here,” I defended myself. No wonder we weren’t on the billboard. That ticket lady must think I’m crazy!

We left, and dropped Roger off at our host home.  Mary, a lovely widow lady, would bring him to the concert.  Eleanor and I drove on to the college.  Dinner was just about to be served. “It’s the same menu we served you three years ago. You said you liked it so we are giving it to you again,” said Ron Krikac, the housing chairman. Yes, boneless chicken, rice, salad, broccoli, and toasted pita bread. I knew I would be too full for the desserts.

The auditorium was called the Golden Dome, which resembled a gym inside and an observatory outside. There were bleachers on either side of the gym floor, which was filled with molded plastic chairs. Because of the rain, the food was served in the performance area and the musicians ate on the bleachers, improvising a seat and table from the various levels. Ron had set up tables and chairs in the parking lot, but the rain prevented us from having a picnic.

Bob Wall and his wife Geri had driven all the way from Rapid City, SD, for the concert. Bob was our concert coordinator in the Western tour of 2004. He met many of his friends from that tour before the concert.

As concert time approached, the people flooded through the doorways. Even in the rain, we were going to have a good crowd. The chairs on the floor were filled, and the bleachers were filling up. There must have been 1500 people there ready to hear the choir and orchestra.

And when the Tchaikovsky Overture ended, a roar went up from the gym. People were clapping, yelling, shouting.  I smiled at Brenda, “This is tour!”