Community choir sings for the sheer joy of it

At age 8, Betsy Sansby announced to her mother that she aspired to be a singer.

Her mother, who grew up in a poor Eastern European immigrant family, worried about her three children making a living, so she wasn't thrilled. In fact, Sansby recalls, "My mom said, 'Over my dead body.' "

Even though her older brother Scott Sansby later became a professional drummer, the impressionable Betsy Sansby took those words literally. It wasn't until after her mother died 22 years ago that she returned to her first love, plunging into a singing class for "nonsingers." That gave her the push she needed to pursue other musical ventures.

Eight years ago, Sansby, who lives in Minnetonka, was motivated to start the One World Community Choir and Social Club through the Hopkins School District's community education program. The group, which now exists independently, meets every Tuesday evening at St. Luke Presbyterian Church in Minnetonka.

The repertoire isn't religious in nature. Every week, the singers croon an eclectic mix of Scottish ballads, Indian chants, African songs and American roots numbers. Sansby picks out the music.

Her interest in African dance music goes back to her high school days at the Children's Theatre Company in Minneapolis. She's also influenced by her brother's drum music. "I love rhythm and I love dancing," she said.

Sansby's husband, Alan Dworsky, a classically trained musician, provides accompaniment on the piano, guitar or a boxlike drum called a "cajon." Dworsky comes from a musical family; his brother, Richard Dworsky, is the longtime pianist/music director for Garrison Keillor's radio show, "A Prairie Home Companion."

That's what binds the 20-plus choir members. They don't audition to get into the choir, and the group rarely performs. Rather, they sing for themselves — though they occasionally "appear and disappear," by special request, as Sansby put it.

"You don't have to be able to read music or have a musical background, which makes it a lot less intimidating," she said. "Everything is taught by ear."

Most people find out about the group, which has an activity fee of $79 for 10 weeks, through its Web page on Meetup.com or by word-of-mouth. People come from all walks of life, though women outnumber men and most members are in their 50s.

For Sansby, who works as a licensed marriage and family therapist, "It's the bright spot in the week, when people aren't telling me their problems," she said. "This is the place where I get filled up. I'm not a spiritual person, but choir has become a healing community."

The choir started out in the basement music room at Eisenhower Elementary in Hopkins. Later, it moved to The Marsh before settling in at the church. "Through the years, it's gotten more and more local," Dworsky said.

Likewise, at the church, for certain songs, everyone gathers around Dworsky at the piano, such as for "Follow the Heron." Sansby found the song, one of her favorites, through Scottish ballad singer Karine Polwart, with whom she once took a private lesson.

When someone is sick, the group sings to him or her via speakerphone. Over the years, the choir has lost a couple of beloved members, and the group has performed at their memorial services.

In a suburban area that lacks a physical town center, the choir fills a void, Dworsky said. Occasionally the group raises money for local charities, as well.

A couple of weeks ago, the choir practiced "Hare Rama," a melodious Indian chant.

Sansby, who was barefoot, moved with the music, sometimes dancing in the middle of the singers who sat in a circle around her. Dworsky held out the final notes on the piano. "That was for you, that last part," he told his wife.

When the group did a Congolese chant, the 20 singers scattered around the far reaches of the sanctuary.

They tried out a type of yodel that was sung in the rain forest "where there are no markers and people were always on the move. The sound bounces off the trees, so they can reach each other," Sansby told the group.

To act that out, the singers eventually drew together in the center of the room. "We found each other," Sansby quipped.

"In the rain forest," someone chimed in.

It's rewarding when "everything gels, and everyone looks at each other like, 'Whoa, we're getting better,' " Sansby said. "When something comes together, everyone knows this is worth it."

When Doyle could no longer attend the meetings, the choir members came to her. They always sang the couple's favorite song, "Be Like a Bird," about a bird that's too heavy for a branch. The bough dips down under the weight. Yet, the bird isn't afraid of adversity. "It knows it can fly. It has wings. That's pretty much how Sue approached death, not afraid," said Oberg.

Tenor Claudia Dengler, a Wayzata resident who serves as a sailing instructor and a skipper on yacht deliveries, a job that takes her out to sea for days and weeks at a time, sings the choir tunes during her night watch.

"It's hard to describe the feeling of singing into the star-filled sky, with water rushing by the hull, the Milky Way draped over the spreaders, and my lone little voice swept into the air," she said via e-mail from La Grand-Motte, in the Languedoc region of France, adding, "I imagine my voice landing on shore in some distant leeward land."

For Ann Miller, of Maple Grove, choir has become a family tradition. Her mom, Linda Fiterman, and her 9-year-old daughter, Eve (she's the youngest choir member), always come to choir. Her mother-in-law, Bobbie Miller, also shows up sometimes.

Eve sits next to her mother and sings the same part. "Betsy is so wonderful to her. She'll seem tentative and Betsy will say to her, 'I want you to sing out,' " Ann Miller said.

At choir, "You make friends, talk to people and get out of your comfort zone," Craver said. "It's my church. It's soul food."

Anna Pratt is a Minneapolis freelance writer. She can be reached at annaprattjournalist@gmail.com.