- Sat Dec 01, 2007 12:03 am
I have had my own brush with fame with regard to my singing.
When I was in 6th grade I moved to a school in Needham, Massachusetts, where I encountered, for the first time, choir. Everyone met as part of choir once a week for two hours. Everyone was in it. I met with the instructress to display my pipes, and sang not unlike a nightingale. I proudly returned to class, knowing full well my vocals would become the centerpiece of the ensemble.
When next choir met, my regular teacher pulled me aside to tell me that I had not been invited to participate in choir, and that I would need to remain in the regular classroom. My teacher was almost as disenheartened as I was, she had lost a two hour break, one she richly deserved, to oversee my once weekly, two hour, solitary choirlessness. I am certain my primate presence became a real comfort to her, in the long run.
As a result of my disenfranchisement, I became an object of curiosity to the other children. Just what the heck was wrong with my voice? Asked to demonstrate, I took great pleasure in belting out ear splitting soliloquies to entertain my peers. I was the bard of recess, the troubadour of the jungle gym.
But for my having a problem or two maintaining the proper key, which is simply to state that I do not seek to impose unnecessary boundaries on my vocal prowess, and the fact that I may have a few issues with timing, which is to say that I am capable of creative interpretation of the music at hand, I would be trodding the boards of Broadway with you. As it is, I am the Phantom of my shower, serenading my wife and dog with peals of my silvery singing. Their appreciation of my talent, expressed by my dog with an occasional howl, and by my wife with her strained, yet clearly pleased smile, is just a small reward for the pleasure I afford them.
In short, my friend, our kinship is palpable, and I look forward to recording a suitable duet.
I keep cuttin' it and cuttin' it, but it's still too short.