By Dr. Tim Seelig–
(Editor’s Note: On April 8 at the 16th Crescendo, an annual benefit for the San Francisco Gay Men’s Chorus (SFGMC), Dr. Tim Seelig received the Chorus’ prestigious Lifetime Achievement Award. Under Seelig’s leadership as Artistic Director, SFGMC has established a heightened level of performance standards bringing renewed audience and choral industry acclaim. Recent touring schedules, recordings, and outreach programs have broadened SFGMC’s impact and reputation in the community while maintaining the Chorus’ signature blend of humor, personality, and groundbreaking performances. In 2019, SFGMC acquired a historic facility that has become its permanent home for rehearsals and offices. The building also serves as the first-ever National LGBTQ Center for the Arts, a community space for LGBTQ artists and arts organizations.
Crescendo, in person again after the pandemic shut downs, raised $750,000 for the Chorus’ future. Nearly all of Seelig’s biological family traveled to be present at the memorable event that offered a chance to honor, in addition to Seelig, Tony Award winner BD Wong, Amazon, and the California Legislative LGBTQ Caucus. Note that the speech shared here refers to Seelig’s daughter. Corianna Seelig-Gustafson (1977–2018) was a light of his life. SFGMC’s recent Voices Rising concert at Davies Symphony Hall was underwritten, in part, by Steve Gallagher and Chris Thorne, in Corianna’s memory.
Seelig’s importance to the Chorus, to gay men’s choruses worldwide, to Bay Area arts, and as a mentor to countless LGBTQ individuals is invaluable and without measure. Here at the Bay Times, he is a treasured friend and a consummate professional. No matter what—national television filming schedules, performances, funerals, and even a case of COVID-19—he never misses a deadline because he is so incredibly considerate of others. He is both a great leader and a thoughtful team player, and that is not even touching on his skills as a world class singer, musician, and conductor. We are honored to help preserve the words of his Lifetime Achievement Award acceptance speech for readers now and in future.)
Lifetime achievement?
What?
Here’s wha’ had happened.
Precocious. Self-assured. LOUD.
That was 3-year-old Tim.
When family and friends came to visit, he would be placed up on the piano bench to perform the most beautiful ABC song ever heard. Well, it was at least loud. There was a bit of a stumble on LMNOP, but no one cared. It was loud.
How many of you were encouraged to perform for visitors either singing, playing a little piano piece, or even reciting a poem? Well, I was. It got so bad that when I heard the doorbell, I starting getting ready and headed toward the piano bench.
The problem was that when I finished with a dramatic WXYZ and it was time to get off the “stage,” I didn’t want to get down. I liked it!
I then moved to “This Little Light of Mine,” for my first experience with choreography on “Hide it under a bushel? No!” It wasn’t actually choreography, just a dramatic hand motion removing the bushel from the finger representing the light. That was the sum total of my choreography, though. Baptists don’t dance.
Then, I turned 6 or 7 and the question started: What do you want to be when you grow up?
Growing up in a family of people who did religion as professions, I [wanted to choose] something that makes a difference and saves the world: Doctor, a Teacher, or a Preacher. I was not going to go for anything like superman or astronaut. Too secular.
I’m pretty sure, though, that no child answers that question, “When I grow up, I want to wave my arms at gays.” That may change in the future!
The piano bench “stage” had taught me to LOVE all stages!
I have been incredibly lucky to perform on stages throughout Asia, Europe, Canada and the U.S. Those included Carnegie Hall, Lincoln Center, the Castro Theater, and our new home, the Chan National Queer Arts Center at 170 Valencia! I even waved my arms at the Mormon Tabernacle Choir. I am beyond thrilled to end this part of my career waving my arms at the venerable San Francisco Symphony Orchestra at Davies Symphony Hall in July!
I’m comfortable on stage. Maybe too comfortable sometimes! I have this overwhelming desire to chat with all the nice people who came to hear the music!
As you may already know, every life experience I had amassed up to that point, came together one fateful night in 1987. I walked into a room of gay men and waved my arms at them! It was more thrilling than I had ever imagined it would be. Actually, I had never imagined it at all. I barely knew any gays.
At my first rehearsal, I came face to face with a singer covered in lesions on the front row. He was the first PWA, Person with AIDS, I had ever met or seen.
My heart broke. It has never fully healed, but we got to work. Nothing was ever the same. I was finally in a room of men like me. Some hurting. Some broken. Many sick. It just didn’t matter. We sang.
In addition to the hurt and pain and death, there was also unspeakable joy as we gathered together to experience first-hand the healing power of music, the bond it created and the hope Harvey Milk had talked about.
During these days, another old gospel song came to mind that my Mother had sung at Billy Graham crusades around the world. “I sing because I’m happy … I sing because I’m free … .” They just didn’t know how free! Free from the confines of the religion and indoctrination.
The lifetime part of the award is a little overwhelming. “Lifetime” is relative.
Only yesterday, the news reported that life expectance had dropped to 76.3 years. I’m 71. But who’s counting? Tic Toc. When I began my career with LGBTQ+ choruses, the life average expectancy of my singers was 30! For my daughter, it was only 41.
I’ve lived several lifetimes—as you know. I’m going to have to add a third section to my memoire: Big Old Baptist and Big Old Gay. Big Old Gay Retiree. Of course, there will be a chapter about surviving a 2nd pandemic!
I feel like I’ve lived an entire lifetime in my 11 1/2 years here in San Francisco. We did some big stuff together. National AIDS Memorial Grove Artists Portal, Chan National Queer Arts Center, Lavender Pen Tour, Gay Chorus Deep South documentary, RHYTHM (Reaching Youth Through Music).
We’ve raised money, changed lives, provided a safe space for countless people, entertained, and most importantly, moved the needle for our beautiful community
Now life comes full circle. In only 3 months, I’m trading in the stage at Davies Symphony Hall for a piano bench. Yes, I’ll keep my liability insurance paid up and be extremely careful when climbing up on it.
Precocious, Self-assured. Loud. That’s 71-year-old Tim. What did I want to be? Someone who made a difference and helped people.
A Doctor. Check. (with a baton instead of a stethoscope)
A Teacher. Check.
A Preacher. Hello?
Tonight, I am so incredibly blessed to have my family here. My son, Judson, his wife Juliana, and Eden Mae (the two little ones are not at the dinner). My son-in-law Clay, his fiancé Vikki, and my granddaughter, Clara Skye. My best friend Dan England and long-time friend Karen Modlin.
It’s hard to imagine the number of songs we have sung together over these 35 years. Our friend Mr. Andrew Lippa penned these words in the musical Unbreakable, composed for SFGMC …
San Francisco, I am broken but you welcome the broken to come and to heal.
I am lonely and tired and frightened but you surround me.
I am hoping you’ll hold me and I’m hoping you’ll help me…San Francisco
And it did.
This award is really all about you.
You gave me this chance.
You “loaned” me your chorus.
You took a risk on this irreverent southerner from crazy town Texas.
You encouraged me to be courageously open about my HIV status.
You opened your hearts. And your checkbooks.
You believed in the dreams—that we could stretch and grow.
You said “yes”—almost all of the time!
You gave me this one last chance to be on the Crescendo stage!
Together, we have soared to heights unimagined.
THANK YOU FOR THIS beautiful award on this beautiful evening.
In the gift of a song so generously composed for us by Stephen Schwartz, “Testimony,” are these words:
If I could reach my past I’d tell him what I’ve learned,
I was more loved than I dared to know
There were open arms I could see
And when I die and when it’s my time to go,
I want to come back as me.
It is difficult to say that every single day of our lives. But if we can say them with conviction more days than not, our lives are pretty full indeed.
Finally, I’d like to sing the chorus of a song that means the world to me and appropriate for this time:
This day is fragile, soon it will end.
Once it has vanished, it will not come again.
So let us love with a love pure and strong.
Before this day is gone … .
The days are fleeting. The memories will live on and on.
The only measure of your words and your deeds will be the love you leave behind when you’re gone.
Thank you, San Francisco Gay Men’s Chorus, for the gifts you have so generously given me.
Dr. Tim Seelig is the Artistic Director of the San Francisco Gay Men’s Chorus.
Published on April 21, 2022
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