"Memory...is the diary that we all carry about with us." Oscar Wilde

I can't recall a time when music was never not a huge part of who I am. In fact, my very earliest memories of when a certain song inspired me was when I was about five. "Theme to A Summer Place" was apparently a hit then and I can remember believing, quite distinctly, that it had been written just for me. At 5! I still love that music. The movie? Meh...

When I was growing up, and well into my teens, all I ever wanted to be was a singer. I never planned for anything else. I was first encouraged by my paternal grandmother, who was the first to ever notice how good my voice was. I guess I was about 8 or so when I was sitting at the piano with her and she was teaching me a couple of gospel songs. At one point she turned around on the bench and quite seriously told my mom (who was sitting across the room) what a good voice I had. As I grew older others would say the same. My first great disappointment came when I auditioned for a place in a 6th grade choir and wasn't cut because of my voice, but because of my accent! It was the only time it was an issue and eventually I lost most of it. In junior high there was one disastrous performance of our junior/high school choir when I had my own solo but couldn't hold the melody because I kept getting overwhelmed by the rest of the choir who surrounded me on three sides in a gymnasium where the acoustics were somewhat less than ideal. I was absolutely humiliated and furious with myself, and the teacher didn't help when she voiced her displeasure. I ran and hid in one of the modular rooms until it was time to go home. I didn't sing in another choir until high school, but I never stopped singing and loving music during that time. I simply didn't perform. I missed it, though, more than I can say. Then, in my freshman year, I was again in a choir when the idea first occurred that I wanted voice coaching, so I approached my choir director who was quite enthusiastic at the idea, and she became my first voice coach. The very first song she taught me to sing was "How Are Things in Glocca Morra?" and to this day I can still hear it and hear myself singing it in my memory. Later, I was entered in a kind of state singing, not exactly competition, but one where you performed before a person who would listen then critique your performance. I think I've managed to keep the resulting eval with me and it's somewhere around here. I was startled by the fact that he had only one arm and so didn't do as well as I should have, but his criticism proved invaluable afterward. At a recent gathering of fellow writers and other creatives, it was funny how some talked about the importance of enunciation in speech because that was one of the biggies he said I needed to work on. Later, during my last year of high school when I was 16, very early in the first semester, the choir director, Ken Hawkins, called me into his office after class one day. To say I was apprehensive was putting it mildly! But when I went in and sat down, he commenced to telling me just how good my voice actually was. I know we talked about other things pertaining to singing during that meeting but that's what I remember most of all. It was a true red-letter day for me because the wish I had had to become a singer abruptly became an outright ambition and I began to take training very seriously. Toward the end of the year I applied, with sample recordings, for admission to several schools, including Julliard, which I frankly didn't know anything about other than it was a performing arts school in New York, and the Philadelphia Metropolitan Opera's School of Opera and from them received an invitation to audition in person. You can imagine my excitement and Mr. Hawkins even offered to accompany me and my parents when I went. But my mom refused to let me go (she'd also refused to let me become an exchange student to Australia when I was a freshman) so that dream went unrequited. But still I sang every chance I got even as my writing began to take on more importance in my life. Eventually a friend asked me to sing for her wedding. I didn't realize at the time that I was a cheap alternative in her wedding planning, and it hurt when I did realize it, but in allowing me to sing, she gave me the opportunity to learn more about my abilities in singing different kinds of songs. For her wedding I sang "The Rose" and was happily surprised that I was able to do it with a completely different voice than the operatic way I'd been using since high school. After that, I basically sang just about every song I could manage. One of my earlier coaches had been astounded to learn that I had a four octave range so I had a lot of voice to work with, I just had to learn styles. I discovered, for instance, that I could use my operatic training in a different way when I sang music that was popular at the turn of the 20th century, the late Victorian and Edwardian eras. I absolutely loved singing those, especially when there were older people in the audience because they, more than anyone else, knew those songs and could remember them well. One very special memory is of a recital when I sang "Lullaby for Christmas Eve." The coach, a very nice and talented man named Trent Gilmore, had, as he put it, saved me for last and I knew that I was moving people with the song. It was glorious! What wasn't so glorious was knowing that once again, no one in my family had deigned to attend. But my very special friend, Mary Jo, as always was there, as was my therapist at the time. Mary Jo, bless her heart, would carry her copies of my recordings with her when she traveled (she was an over-the-road trucker) and would make anyone having anything to do with any part of the music industry listen. I was both touched and embarrassed when I learned that, but that's what made her such a dear, dear friend and why I miss her so much. By the way, she did the same thing with my writing as well and would even refer to herself as my "patron."

It's funny when I look back now because at one time, I would watch those old westerns where the saloon girl was on a swing above the saloon singing things like "Yellow Rose of Texas." Not understanding just what she was really supposed to be, I wanted to be that girl! Eventually, I was singing in church choirs and being given solos in cantatas, etc. I'm not sure what happened exactly but at some point, my confidence began to erode. I don't think it was because of my voice, though, but because even though we were always told it wasn't necessary to know how to read music, which I never learned though I did understand its concepts, the fact that nearly everyone else in the choir could was demoralizing. When we'd have to be referred back to a certain spot they would refer to it with their musical knowledge. I, who could only sight read, would be completely lost until the music actually began again, and for some reason that was what was making me doubt my abilities. The next to the final blow came when I signed up with a coach in college. One of those who referred to the greats only by their last names. Such as she would call Julie Garland simply Garland as if she were a New York critic rather than a college voice coach. She gave me the usual scales and an aria to practice, but she basically wrote me off from the beginning because I couldn't read music. I did sign up for a piano class for students who had not had previous piano training but since I didn't have a piano at home and no way of staying after classes to practice on campus, I ended up having to drop that class. I learned that the truly great Pavarotti also couldn't read music and that many professional and highly regarded musicians in Nashville also can't read it too late to not feel so lacking.

The final blow came when I lost my entire voice, including speaking, for nearly two months. That was just before the pandemic. I thought it was allergies because it was that time of year then I was afraid it might have been COVID even though I had no other symptoms. Eventually I saw an allergist, who diagnosed mild asthma but couldn't understand what was causing my inability to talk so he referred me to an ear/nose/throat specialist. He was the one who diagnosed a virus that had attacked only my throat and vocal cords. He assured me that my voice would return, first my speaking voice and eventually my singing would return, but that one would take a longer period of time. He advised me to use it as little as possible until it had healed so I quit singing completely. After a couple of years, it did return but I may as well have never had any singing talent to begin with. It was completely destroyed. I did talk with a voice coach online who specialized in helping singers with damaged cords and she told me that probably what had happened is that they had gone "flabby" (her word) and I would simply have to start exercising them again. She assured me that I could most likely recover my ability to sing but what was left unsaid is that time and age had probably taken some toll on the quality of the sound. I really, really wanted to take those lessons but simply couldn't afford to so I never have. During our gathering, when another woman sang what would once have been called a torch song (which I loved!) I was reminded that the song I'd most like to sing now is "The Lies of Handsome Men." Oh, how I 'd love to!

But I became a writer and came to realize that that was my true calling. I was a very good singer but I'm an even better writer and I do believe my Higher Power will or maybe is already using me to do their work somehow. I don't know what that would be but most times we really don't know what kind of impact we're making in the lives of others, do we? We can only hope that when we leave this earth, we've left it better than we found it.

c. 2024