Part of a series inspired by Ross Gay
that starts here:
Have I always enjoyed singing? I think so. I can remember riding around with Mom and listening to her sing. She had a sweet, sweet voice until this little twerp did that ornery, "please stop", thing and that was the end of that. Yet--many of those songs still play in my head and spill out of my mouth, over 55 years later. That's some sticking power! Thanks, Mom!
I'm not sure who introduced me to musicals, perhaps my sissy K. I can remember loudly belting out, "Oh What a Beautiful Morning" and others, as I curried my horse, Sally, or while out walking down the road. I still enjoy a good musical and love rewatching the favorites when they pop up on the television--by the way, have you watched, "That Day We Sang"? More lovely songs that stick.
My small town high school had slim pickings for extra classes--it was a choice between choir and band. My parents believed what they did for their first child would be the same as what they did for their last. They had never purchased or rented an instrument for the others, so . . . none for me either. So choir it was.
Lucky for the choir, a new director had recently been hired, Mr. Puvogel (?). He was tough, gifted and believed in us. So much joy to be a member of that choir! We competed at State and scored Superiors. It was a glorious moment. We felt like we had truly accomplished something--as well as singing in Latin, and couldn't wait for the following competitions and concerts.
When the next school year began, we learned that our new director had been lured away to a bigger town, willing to pay a better wage. The teacher who had planned on retiring, was brought back. There were no auditions, no pushing to do better than we believed. I couldn't stay. The thrill was gone, but that golden memory lives on, and yes, I'm still singing at the top of my lungs. Just ask N.
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