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Canberra Today 11°/16° | Saturday, April 27, 2024 | Digital Edition | Crossword & Sudoku

Choir with ‘singing problem’ helps fill painful void 

Stacey Truscott sings with members of the choir. Photo: Nathan Schmidt

WHEN her husband returned from two tours of military service and suffering post-traumatic stress, Stacey Truscott, 52, found herself isolated. 

As ex-military herself, Stacey understood the comradeship her husband, Chuck Truscott, 51, had lost when he left the military and had seen her family go from social and busy to detached and isolated. 

“You lose it when you leave [the military]. Have a breakdown and PTSD on top of that and before you know it, you’re very isolated,” she says.

Stacey also knew her experience wasn’t unusual. 

“I came home and said, the best thing we can do is get out there. There has to be other families going through this. Why don’t we start a choir?” 

And so, in 2015, with a husband and son who are both musicians, the Boots ‘n’ All Choir started. 

Though Stacey prefers to call it a “social group with a singing problem”, welcoming in not just veterans but their friends, family and anyone that supports them.

While there were different activity groups available for veterans at the time, including those at Soldier On, which hosts and supports the Boots, many were physical or sporty. 

When someone is really struggling, they can’t always find their way to a bike or up a hill, Stacey says. Instead, she wanted to create something more inclusive of family and friends. 

“Whoever was supporting the veteran or would like to support veterans, that’s who we wanted in the choir,” she says. 

“This was a real way to bring everyone together. Who doesn’t love music? Music is in everyday life, everything we do. The sad times, the happy times, the hard times. Music is there.”

One of the first songs the group mastered as a small, six-person choir when they started out was “Fix You” by British pop band Coldplay. The song, which touches on themes of helplessness and perseverance, is special to the group and embodies what the choir is, says director Sophie Russell-Farnham, 33.

They have since grown to 22 members, which include members of the emergency services, with many more based overseas or who join in occasionally. 

The youngest member is Sophie’s daughter Mackenzie who, at 10 years of age, is the fourth generation of Farnhams in the choir, after her mother, grandmother and great-grandmother.

Even the family dog is part of the choir. Doza is a four-time medal-award-winning veteran, having even parachuted into combat. 

As a member since day one and taking over as director last year, Sophie has witnessed the journey of many of the choir’s members as they’ve grown more confident as singers.

But, it’s Sophie’s mother, who is also a founding member, whose story is one of the most poignant. 

Panic attacks were a real challenge for Sue Farnham, 64. She found when she started singing harmonic songs such as “Amazing Grace” what she was actually learning was breathing techniques.

“It’s actually what I use now, and it’s the most effective thing I’ve ever found to actually stop a panic attack,” she says.

“The moment I start singing it in my head my body now actually has the muscle memory that I’m supposed to breath a certain way.

“So, it does it without me even thinking about it so the panic attack dissipates because my body starts to breathe… It’s been a really good side effect for me.”

Sue and the group have grown a lot since those early days and what the choir does now, compared to when they first started, amazes her.

“What we’re prepared to take on now are songs we wouldn’t have even dreamed of tackling,” she says. 

When asked what the goal for the group is after navigating the trials of a year of covid, Sue has no hesitations in answering: the Sydney Opera House.

“It’s such a far-fetched goal in many ways,” she says.

“It’s a representation of how far we’ve come. The fact we would even contemplate that we would even do something like that now…”

That first night Sue joined Chuck and Stacey at the choir, she doesn’t think they even looked at anybody.

“We made no eye contact, we didn’t speak to each other. We did sing – badly. But, we came back, which was the miracle in itself.” she says. 

“What’s been brilliant is watching other people come in after us and watch them go through the same journey. Gradually, you see the magic happen.

“So, the Opera House is our Everest.”

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Ian Meikle, editor

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