[AnAmericanMother]

Oh, ouch. My father used to be the organ technician at St. Philips Cathedral Atlanta (Army Engineers can do ANYthing!) A cipher was a personal insult to him. Occasionally he would scurry out of the bass section to mess with things behind the console.

He used to take us up in the roof (above the sanctuary ceiling) by a series of ladders and catwalks to work on the celeste pipes. We were much more interested in the dizzying height than the pipes though. He even took us up in the top chamber of the bell tower once. That probably cured my fear of heights.

[ninenot]

"Adventures in High Places and Midst Pipes," an American journey, by (ta da) An American Mother.

Subtitle: How to go from nosebleed locations through nosebleed Episcopalianism to not-so-nosebleed Catholicism in only 40 years, taking your harpsichord along for the ride.