THE SINGING CHOIR OF RETURN STREET (ALIQUIPPA, PA) 👨🏻‍🎤🎶

In the early years of Aliquippa, the town boasted of many churches. They were everywhere. If you lived in any plan or section, chances are, there was a church right down the street from you. In the Plan 11 section and Plan 11 extension(more commonly known as the ‘Other Side’), there was an old church that stood at or near return street. The black culture of Aliquippa was famously known in those days as possessing colorful places of worship, where singing and chanting were replete on Sunday mornings and certain days in the evenings of the regular week; this is still an integral part of the Quippian community. I can recall many stories told to me by my father of all the singing that went on on Sundays in the summertime; it was so moving that many folks would sit on their porch, and, depending on where they lived and what church was near them, they would listen to the Gospel sounds of the pious community. One such particular church claim is that long after the dismantling of it, one could still hear ‘singing.’

Although no one seems to recall the name of the church that was once there, folks certainly seem to remember talking about it; as far as can be determined, it was somewhere near or on Return Street. It may have been a Baptist church with a jovial congregation that practiced and performed a lot of Gospel singing. At any rate, the sounds of the church filled Plan 11 with fascination and content. It was a highly regarded place during its active inception. Some years later, the membership of this church, under various reasons, declined in membership. The elders passed on, the church grew old, and its condition became a matter of serious concern. The final result was the demolition of the building itself. The former members relocated their worshipping practices into other areas of Aliquippa, and even built a few new ones over time. However, something mystical was preserved.

On certain quiet evenings, just before the sun turns itself off, and if you are near the right location, it is there you will hear beautiful singing. If you continue to walk and keep listening, the singing grows louder and more beauteous. It is as if you are in attendance of a church concert. It is something marvelous and histrionic; the voices sound like they are being watered by angels and the sky above you is polished by the tangerine rays of the sun that is stretching itself over the Aliquippa corona one final time before kissing itself into sleep. It is a deep and warm and welcoming experience; it hypnotizes your sensations into you thinking of stepping out of reality on a spiraled strand of magic. It lasts only for a few moments, like you are a dream that has been dipped in a fantasy, right out into the street you are strolling on. Then your eyes revive themselves and you shake off the pleasure that has stimulated your spirit. The singing can still be heard, but it is being washed away, like rain under the tires of a fast car. You stop. You command your ears to hear the sweetness of those Spring voices once again. You imagine that this must have been all imagination, though you’re not really certain. You look for a church, perhaps somewhere around the corner; you’re also looking for an angel colored in an aqua dress with peach skin and lemon yellow hair. There is no one. But the singing, now in slow motion, is like moonlight that has drunk itself back into the twilight. A faint but pure whisper of a church choir engulfs your ears. You try to listen to the words, but they are lost ones. You continue your walk. It is now raining silently; the drops touch your skin and explode into relief; the fresh smell of the puddles on the street are colorized and you look at yourself in a mirror of water; the sky above has grown an orange beard with powdered white trimming by the sun. Where is this new day? What happened to the old? You keep listening to the singing you can no longer hear. The Angels of Return Street are asleep. They will awaken soon, just wait.