Sing...sing a song....
As I sit on the couch, listening to my son singing while he plays in my room, I remember my mom telling me that during the one brief stretch of time in my childhood when she didn't have a job, she would know when I was nearing the house on my walk home from school because she could hear me whistle. I also remember singing constantly, in the shower, in my room, and especially in the car. When the age of Walkmans entered my teenage years, I remember TORTURING my sister, singing Duran Duran on the top of my lungs, earphones shutting out the rest of the world. (Oh, and I can't forget even before that, when someone gave me the soundtrack to Annie and I sang to it all the time!) I couldn't truly experience the song, and music meant so much to us then, unless I was singing it. All this reminiscing brought a question to my mind: when did I stop singing?
I can tell you the year I stopped whistling. Braces installed in 7th grade that weren't completely removed until college robbed me of my whistle. Yes, I enjoy actually having teeth that touch now, but my whistle has been downgraded to a weak, breathy tone. But, singing, when did that stop? I remember singing in my car in college. In fact, I remember rehearsing for my college choir in the car on the commute to school. I was part of a Bach double choir and I just couldn't get the alto line I was supposed to sing. So, I brought a hand held tape recorder and taped our rehearsals. I then played the tape in the car on the drive to and from school and rehearsed on the way. I also remember being mortified one day when the thought crossed my mind that if some evil person hid a tape recorder in my car and taped me rehearsing, it would result in an embarrassment that I knew I couldn't recover from.
I've always loved to sing. I sang all through high school in both the basic and chamber choirs and even sought out the choir in college, where I toured in both the main choir and chamber groups. But mention a solo to me, and the deal is off. I remember the day my college director, Dr. Stein, offered me a solo during rehearsals for my senior tour. Friends in the class told me I blushed as pink as my fuscia dress. I declined. To me, singing is a baring of the soul, best done mingled in the soul baring of others. I don't solo; I'm a definite group member. If I had one thing I wish I could add to my hectic schedule, it would be participating in another choir. But the longing is bittersweet. I know I'll never find another choir with the talent and dedication I experienced in college. Man, even the sight reading of new material was beautiful!
When my son was a baby I sang to him constantly. We had songs for bath time, diaper changes, and getting a shirt over his head. We sang in the car and in the store. We had songs about finding cereal on the shelf and putting the bags in the car. I joke that I was warping him by raising him to think that life is a musical and people just spontaneously break into song. You know, there are worse ways to warp a kid.
So why don't I sing now? Maybe I'm more self-conscious. Maybe like a lot of moms I'm so focused on my kids and family that the "ME!" me is hiding in the shadows. Maybe I'm just waiting for things to slow down a bit so I can find an opportunity. Don't worry, it won't be American Idol.
But I do know, as I hear my son singing in his room, that I have passed on the love of singing to the next generation. When the time is right, I'll find my voice again.
I can tell you the year I stopped whistling. Braces installed in 7th grade that weren't completely removed until college robbed me of my whistle. Yes, I enjoy actually having teeth that touch now, but my whistle has been downgraded to a weak, breathy tone. But, singing, when did that stop? I remember singing in my car in college. In fact, I remember rehearsing for my college choir in the car on the commute to school. I was part of a Bach double choir and I just couldn't get the alto line I was supposed to sing. So, I brought a hand held tape recorder and taped our rehearsals. I then played the tape in the car on the drive to and from school and rehearsed on the way. I also remember being mortified one day when the thought crossed my mind that if some evil person hid a tape recorder in my car and taped me rehearsing, it would result in an embarrassment that I knew I couldn't recover from.
I've always loved to sing. I sang all through high school in both the basic and chamber choirs and even sought out the choir in college, where I toured in both the main choir and chamber groups. But mention a solo to me, and the deal is off. I remember the day my college director, Dr. Stein, offered me a solo during rehearsals for my senior tour. Friends in the class told me I blushed as pink as my fuscia dress. I declined. To me, singing is a baring of the soul, best done mingled in the soul baring of others. I don't solo; I'm a definite group member. If I had one thing I wish I could add to my hectic schedule, it would be participating in another choir. But the longing is bittersweet. I know I'll never find another choir with the talent and dedication I experienced in college. Man, even the sight reading of new material was beautiful!
When my son was a baby I sang to him constantly. We had songs for bath time, diaper changes, and getting a shirt over his head. We sang in the car and in the store. We had songs about finding cereal on the shelf and putting the bags in the car. I joke that I was warping him by raising him to think that life is a musical and people just spontaneously break into song. You know, there are worse ways to warp a kid.
So why don't I sing now? Maybe I'm more self-conscious. Maybe like a lot of moms I'm so focused on my kids and family that the "ME!" me is hiding in the shadows. Maybe I'm just waiting for things to slow down a bit so I can find an opportunity. Don't worry, it won't be American Idol.
But I do know, as I hear my son singing in his room, that I have passed on the love of singing to the next generation. When the time is right, I'll find my voice again.