Sing, Sing a Song, Sing Out Loud, Sing Out Strong

The house where I spent part of my childhood had a fireplace that shared a wall in our kitchen and living room. On the living room side was a raised hearth with a mantle over it. One day while playing I realized this sort of resembled our choir loft in church. I was immediately intrigued. I grabbed the hymnal from our piano and began to sing whatever songs I could remember. Since I couldn’t read the hymnal was a mere prop, but I was convinced my audience would never know the difference.

At some point while I was playing choir I looked down and realized there was a pull chain on the fireplace screen that looked like a microphone. From that moment on I was through with choir and was immediately working on my solo career. Sometimes I would even drag my record player out to accompany me in my concerts.

As I got older and taller my head started hitting the mantle and it took some of the fun out of it for me. So I did what any good big sister would do and tried to pass my gift of the stage onto my little sister. However, she never took to performing or enjoyed the audience quite like I did.

Unforgettable, That’s What You Are

When I was a child my parents bought me a record player and the matching age appropriate records. As I got older I grew tired of Smokey the Bear and In the Little Red Schoolhouse and wanted other options. Being we were quite conservative at the time, I could not just run down to my local record store and stock up on current albums. So instead I would go down to the basement and dig through my parents old record collections and drag out whatever looked interesting at the time.

This was my first exposure to crooners like Bing Crosby, Dean Martin and Tony Bennett. I also loved the lulling female voices of Doris Day and Ella Fitzgerald. However one artist just spoke to me every time he sang. I loved listening to Nat King Cole. My favorite song . . . . Unforgettable. I was impressed that he liked someone so much to consider them unforgettable and to sing a song about it.

I want to be the person that is remembered. I want to be an unforgettable individual, wife, mother, daughter and friend. More importantly I want the things I do or say to make a difference in someone’s life and their life to be better for it. I realized this feeling translates to the music I sing. While I sing songs someone else has written and performed, I want my performance and interpretation to be unforgettable.

I Love Paris – Even Though I’ve Never Been There

I know my family loves me when they willingly take a perfectly good Friday night to hear me sing in a local talent show. It was a little cold and we were very hungry. But they waited patiently for my turn and applauded with gusto when I finished. It feels amazing having them there, cheering me on. I am very blessed to be surrounded by such support. And in case you’re curious, I did get third place and took home $100.

Did You Ever Know That You’re My Hero?

On Sunday night I met one of my heroes, for the second time. When I was 8, Larnelle Harris came to sing in my church. I remembered being in awe of the talent he had and the conviction with which he sang. After the service I insisted on meeting him and getting his autograph. While he was not well known at the time, I knew he was going to do great things.

Through the years I’ve followed his music. It didn’t seem to matter what I was going through, he had a song that felt like it was especially for me. During my freshman year he performed at Grace College to a full house. Although I sat in the back and could barely see, I remember his spirit very clearly. He told us there was a time when he didn’t know if he would ever sing again. He had lost his voice and been informed if it returned, it might not even sound the same. He said he learned to trust the Giver of his gift and from that point on all glory went to Him. Sunday night I watched Larnelle sing with his usual conviction and engage the crowd as if he was there for each individual. But as he turned to leave he looked up, raised his hands and said, “thank you.”

I have a good friend who has had the privilege of working with Larnelle on a number of occasions. She said you will not find a more genuine man . . . he is a real class act. I’ve been pondering all of this lately. As I pursue my own musical career and make decisions for my future, I want to be like Larnelle. I am eternally grateful to the Giver, for all my gifts. I want to remember to look up, raise my hands and say “thank you.”

Don’t Cry For Me Mamacita

This last Saturday I closed out my season at the Noblesville Farmer’s Market. It was a great day with a lot of traffic. The nice thing about the market is it gives me the opportunity to try different songs that are a departure from my typical jazz standards. I decided to sing Jambalaya, where the chorus repeats (many times) “son of a gun, we’ll have big fun on the bayou.” The crowd really seemed to like it, but one woman in particular caught my eye. She was standing rather close to me, but talking on the phone. I thought it was strange she didn’t walk away. After she was done she walked over and talked to my mother, who happened to be sitting in the musician’s tent.

When the song was finished I looked back at my Mom and she was crying. My first thought was, “I hope it wasn’t THAT bad.” She quickly assured me it was good. The woman had come over to tell her she was from Louisiana. When she heard my song she called her father so he could hear it. She just wanted to say how much she enjoyed it. My Mom said it made her so proud she couldn’t stop the tears. Thank you, Mama.

Should I Sing Clearly Now Or Change My Song?

Over the last few weeks I have been faced with a choice. During an audition one of the judges told me he loved my voice and thought I did a great job. However, he could tell I home-schooled my children, because of my excellent articulation. His suggestion was that I be a little harder to understand. Immediately the judge sitting beside him disagreed. She talked about her work with a very popular music legend, who never put lyrics in her album covers because she wanted the audience to know what she was singing.

Since that time I have asked several people, both in and out of the business, their thoughts on this subject. Each time the answer varies. Those that like hearing the words clearly, argue they feel more connected with the song. Those that like less articulation say it makes them feel more connected with the artist. I was a speech communication/psychology major in college and so it is very difficult for me to think of choosing the less articulate route. So I am left with this question. Do I stay true to my natural tendencies or do I try and change who I am for the sake of what the mainstream says I should do?

Singing at the Noblesville Blood Drive

I really enjoy singing, so much so that I am willing to sing at different or unconventional places. Last week I sang at a blood drive in Noblesville, Indiana. The organizers thought it would be nice for the donors to have music while they recuperated. It was a lot of fun and a beautiful day. My daughter went with me and ran the sound. We had so much fun just hanging out and being together. I really like the idea of working and being able to involve my children too. While it is important to me to pursue my career, I never want to lose the closeness I have with my family. After all they have been my greatest support and encouragement.

My Night at the Jazz Kitchen

Photo by Joe Shoemaker

I just want to say thanks to my family and friends for coming out last night to support me at the Jazz Kitchen. I had the opportunity to sing a few songs with the Cool City Swing Band and it was so much fun. After it was over my husband and parents told me how proud they were, my friends all hugged me and my daughter sent me a text saying “I know you’ll do awesome and I love you lots.” What an amazing way to spend an evening.

The Importance of Good Teachers

This story was originally posted on an old blog, but I thought the story was worth retelling again.

As a child I was happy, confident and thought I was fairly intelligent. Nothing really bothered me and I thought everybody was as nice as the people around me. On my first day of kindergarten, my mother dropped me off at school, and I rode the bus home. I sat at a table with five other students. We learned important things any kindergartener should know. After just a few days into my educational career, my five-year-old mind realized I had been sheltered from the harshness of this world.

The next two years proved to be quite difficult for me. My teachers did not seem to understand my outgoing nature and I was often scolded for anything imaginable: talking, being happy, being a kid. I was also led to believe that I was not very smart. I used to sit in my reading group in both kindergarten and first grade being absolutely bored. Yet I was never allowed to be in the Bluebird group, the smart reading group. I had to be a Robin, but at least I was not in the Sparrows. By the end of first grade, the stress of the social difficulties and the feeling of intellectual defeat caused me to miss a lot of school and to even lose a lot of hair.

Through the summer I started feeling better and even started getting my hair back. When I registered for second grade I was told my teacher was new to the school. I was very excited about getting the new teacher, Mrs. Rita Peat, and on my first day I could tell we were going to get along. When it was time to divide up for reading groups, she told me I had been assigned to the middle reading group. I took a shot and told her that I had always been bored with the middle group. She immediately switched me. I was stunned. A teacher listened to me.

Mrs. Peat did not stop there. Since I had never been challenged, I was not trying in other subjects. One day she noticed I still used my fingers to do my math facts. She contacted my parents, told them she thought I could do better and sent me home with a stack of practice tests. Because she had confidence in me for reading I did not want to disappoint her with math. I worked very hard and before long there were only two students doing better than me.

At the end of the first semester, my parents had the chance to take a short trip to New York for my father’s work. They called Mrs. Peat to see if I could miss school and go with them. She said that I was such a good student, I could afford to miss school for this experience. I had the time of my life during that trip and constantly kept thinking about how I could go because I was smart.

Mrs. Peat changed my life. After that year I worked hard in school and knew I was a smart kid. I believe if she had not encouraged me, I would have just been an average student. I would have lacked the confidence to try new things. I would have settled for mediocrity.

I have thought of Mrs. Peat many times since the second grade and her confidence in me. It has inspired me to take on new challenges and not be influenced by the opinions of others. Any new endeavor I have tried, including this blog, have been inspired because of Mrs. Peat’s gift to me all those years ago.

The Lettermen in Logansport Indiana

I know this is going to sound strange, but this last Sunday evening I went to The Lettermen concert in Logansport Indiana. When I tell people I am going to the concert, most people ask who they are. They are a group of three men who have been singing since the late 60′s.

The next question I usually get is why do I go to these concerts. It all started 20 years ago. Living in a small town my sister and I were used to spending our weekends with our parents. One particular weekend my mother told us they were having a party and we would have to fend for ourselves. The Lettermen were coming to the Wagon Wheel Theater in Warsaw, Indiana and we decided to go. We had such a good time, that we continued to go back each year.

The Lettermen have not been in Warsaw for several years, but any time they get within a reasonable driving distance we make a point to go. Even 20 years later my sister and I are still some of the youngest ones in the audience. So is my mom.

The music is always enjoyable. I am not sure if it makes me a nerd that I know most of their old classics, but I still like them. Since it is December they interspersed a lot of Christmas music. We watched them pick people from the audience to help sing the 12 days of Christmas. Honestly, some of these people needed a lot of help and could not sing to save their life. We never get chosen for stuff like that.

So for two hours, we sat among the sea of blue hair and Rose Water perfume listening to music and cracking jokes whenever we felt it was appropriate. I will have to say I really did like how they chose to talk about the real meaning of Christmas. Each member of the group did a solo that was very spiritual and quite moving.

The three of us will continue to go to their concerts for as long as they continue to perform, we will laugh at the same jokes and stay around after to shake hands and congratulate them on a job well done. If that makes me a nerd, then I am okay with that.