When Mary and Jane Gosling talk about the Indianapolis Symphonic Choir, they don’t talk about concerts first. They talk about people. They talk about community. They talk about a lifetime shaped by music, and the way a choir—this choir—became the place where their voices, and their lives, intertwined.
Their story begins long before either woman stepped into a rehearsal room. Music was simply how the Goslings lived. Mary started piano lessons at age seven and never stopped weaving music into daily life. When her daughter Jane was young, she and her late husband filled the house with choir rehearsals, symphony performances, and a sense that singing wasn’t an activity—it was a way of being in the world.
So when Jane moved to Indianapolis in the early 1980s, it made perfect sense that she would look for musical community. She learned about the Indianapolis Symphonic Choir from a coworker—“someone who wasn’t even musical,” she laughed—and decided to audition. She was in her twenties, newly out of school, and hungry for a place where she could keep singing the way she had grown up singing: in harmony, in community, with purpose.
ISC became that place instantly.
A few years later, Mary moved from Elkhart to Indianapolis. She had been singing with the Elkhart Symphony, and when she arrived in Indy, there was never a question of whether she would join a choir—only which one. The answer revealed itself the first time she heard ISC perform with its full choral sound, orchestral partnership, and artistic ambition.
“There just wasn’t another group that could do what ISC does,” Mary said. “It was a privilege to be part of something that big and that beautiful.”
From then on, mother and daughter sang together—two altos standing a few rows apart through rehearsals, seasons, and decades. What they experienced together is nearly impossible to summarize, not because the memories are few but because they are countless.
There were the landmark performances, of course—big stages, powerful works, and moments of emotional weight that linger long after the final note fades. There were experiences that took them far from home, like singing abroad and sharing the Choir’s sound with audiences a world away. There were the unforgettable moments when ISC brought music to some of the world’s most iconic stages, creating memories that became part of the Goslings’ family story. And there were seasons when the repertoire carried deep personal meaning—works that touched them so profoundly that singing felt like a kind of healing.
But woven between those grand milestones are the memories the Goslings return to most often: late-night rehearsals where laughter softened tired voices; holiday seasons when Festival of Carols filled their family calendar; quiet moments backstage, adjusting a collar or handing off a throat lozenge; and the knowing glance between mother and daughter when a chord finally locked into place and the music lifted.
“It’s the way the voices blend,” Jane said. “When you’re part of something that feels larger than yourself, you understand why community matters. Music like this makes people feel connected again.”
That connection is what kept them returning season after season. It’s what made ISC feel like home, even as life changed—when Jane took a break to raise her two sons, when she later returned, when Mary stayed steady through 41 straight years of singing, and when the Choir became the place where three generations of the Gosling family gathered in the audience or onstage.
It’s also what made Mary’s retirement last spring so emotional for the Choir. Even now, singers walk up to Jane to ask how her mom is doing. They tell stories about how Mary welcomed them on their first night, encouraged them when they were nervous, or simply offered warmth at exactly the moment someone needed it.
“She doesn’t always realize the impact she had,” Jane said. “But she made people feel seen. That’s what community feels like.”
Today, Jane still sings in the alto section. Mary still follows every performance with the pride of someone who has given decades of her life to the organization. And the Choir continues to be shaped by the legacy of people like them—people who show up, who sing with heart, who treat one another with care, and who believe in the power of voices united in purpose.
When asked what the Choir means to her now, Jane paused for a long moment.
“Gratitude,” she finally said. “For the music, yes. But mostly for the people. This Choir has been one of the most meaningful parts of my life. I just feel lucky to be part of it.”
And in that simple sentence is the truth of the Indianapolis Symphonic Choir: its strength has always come from the people who believe in it—not just as an artistic endeavor, but as a community, a home, and a place where harmony is built one relationship at a time.
