What a singing there will be when I get home

That's the title of Helen Schneyer's last recording, which will come out next month. I just found out yesterday that she died on July 16. Her obit in the Washington Post gives a basic bio; the Mudcat thread tells much more, through all the tributes of her friends.

She was one of those people whose presence is just huge, and love-inspiring. She always wore all white, with long white hair, and a metric ton of silver and turquoise jewelry. And I haven't met anyone who heard her sing who hadn't been moved to tears by it.

Mostly what I know of Helen, I know through her huge influence on my Mom. The songs Mom most loves to sing are the ones she learned from Helen. When she sings those songs she sings them with every cell in her body, which is the way Helen sang. For that alone I am tremendously grateful.

As Garrison Keillor put it, when Helen sang on Prairie Home Companion, "A lot of agnostics, atheists and people of no particular religions sang about the hope of heaven for the redeemed. It was quite amazing for her to perform." It's probably largely her fault that I love singing a certain number of spirituals and Baptist hymns. It's hard to explain, but it's beautiful.

I wish I had more chance to know her.
Rest easy, Helen.