In April 1996, I stepped into the brand new sanctuary to attend my first choir rehearsal as the new music director at Normandy United Methodist Church. The choir president introduced me to the choir by reading my biography. I noted a blond head popped up and directed her wide, lovely eyes at me when the gentleman mentioned Ball State University. The blond lady mouthed, “me, too!” and began bounce-dancing in her seat.

I gave the choir a break after an hour of rehearsing and the cheery blonde made a beeline to my conductor’s stand. “Put ‘er there, alumni pal. I went to Testical Tech, too.” I had no idea what she was talking about. “Testical Tech?”

Ball State.

It was a love at first-meeting! Ann Seybold spoke my language!

Ann and I were fellow Hoosiers, Ohio-transplants, musicians, Testicle Tech, er, Ball State University grads, and we connected with a tremendous love for sharing stories, jokes, mischief, and practical jokes.

And, we were blonde. However, I suspect I was a true blonde whereas Ann, to my lack of hair salon knowledge, was probably a spiritual-blonde.

Ann’s laughter generally preceded her into any room, and I was always greeted with, “Hey, Chickie-Babe.”

To know Ann Seybold was to know a little more of life, and how to laugh harder, and more often. I also came to know her daughters, Beth and Laura, through a lot of musical endeavors, as well as her husband, Jim, and son, Scott. The Seybolds and I have stayed in contact all these years, mostly at music events for Beth’s daughters, Ava and Kate.

The fall of November, 1999, I directed the Normandy Production for the 40th anniversary of the 1959 Broadway musical premiere, THE SOUND OF MUSIC. Ann, and fifty-one other ladies were my Nuns from Nonnberg Abby. I must say, it was a production of the heart and I was surrounded with the best of the best who grew as performers, each giving the production their heart.

Ann didn’t just give more, she was more. If there was laughter or chuckles from the Nuns during rehearsal, I instinctively knew Ann was at the core. When the Nuns discovered a piece of their habit could also double as a delicate, naughty undergarment from Victoria’s Secret, I somehow knew Ann was one of the original models, along with Duneen DeVore and several others.

For “Maria,” where the Nuns gathered about Mother Abbess to woefully complain about the postulant, Maria, I added additonal Nuns to fill out the sound. Ann was a filler-outer soprano in that particular scene.

During the Saturday matinee, I noticed that Ann was missing during the first half of “Maria.” My Kurt von Trapp, Erick DeVore, had taken a backstage spill, breaking his wrist during production week and my worryscope began rising as I searched the stage for Ann. I was assured over the headset by the stage-manager that Ann was fine, she had missed her cue, and “Wait till you get a load of what happened!”

After the show, the Naughty Nun, looking cheerfully guilty, rushed up to apologize. “Well, after the opening, I stepped outside the dressing room to cool off [Ann was always fanning herself] and I am standing there talking to some others [Ann was always talking to others] and I began listening to the beautiful chorus and all of a sudden it dawned on me that I was supposed to be in that chorus!”

There was no way anyone could not laugh at her story. I am still chuckling as I write this. A fellow Nun was standing next to her and I made the request that she be The Naughty Nun’s handler until the production closed.

Ann’s health battles in recent years may have phsyically tackled her, but her loveable, laughable spirit never winced.

Oh, Ann Seybold, my Naughty Nun, even though your Chickie-Babe and fellw Testicle Tech alum did not see you very often, I shall miss not sharing this world with you. St Peter has been dutiifully warned of your arrival, and Oscar Hammerstein II has altered the lryics, now reading as “How do you solve a problem like Ann Seybold?”

Rest in laughter, my dear, sweet Naughty Nun, and know that you are loved…