Being Vocal

I started voice lessons in the 10th grade. The choir director at the church where my Dad was pastor also conducted at a university in the next town over. When he arrived, he decided, rather quickly, that was the adult choral program needed was fresh blood; or voices, in this case. He brought in singers for each voice part that would practice and perform with the choir for a small payment, and some kind of credit in his class.

And they were incredible. I was in awe of every single one of them. The way they held themselves when they sang, the way their voices stood out and blended in at the same time, the way they pushed the rest of the choir members (my Mom included) to really pull out every stop and be GREAT.

Joanna was an Alto when she first arrived. She was tall, with plump lips, and impossibly long legs, and short sandy blond hair. I was mesmerized by her for at least a year before I realized that she was just a regular person. So when I started lessons it was with Joanna. Nervous is not deep enough of a word to describe how I felt, but she made it feel easy. So I dang, and she gasped, and said, "You are a soprano, my dear". "No, I've always been an alto, I like being an alto." But she would have none of it. So a soprano I became. Little did I know she was becoming one herself, a colouratura at that!

Anyway, we had lessons for a few months, and became close friends in the process. her fiance, Sam, was the funniest guy I'd ever met, and they joined the bell choir that I was in, much to my amusement. Between our director and Johanna and Sam, the bells never sounded better.

I don't remember the timeline of everything after that because it was all so smushed together. The end results were that I was a bridesmaid in Johanna and Sam's wedding, Johanna became the children's choir director, and even accompanied us on a mission trip to New Mexico.

Then they moved. And I missed them. And she had a baby, and then another. And I needed a new voice teacher. Enter Autumn. Equally beautiful to Johanna. She had long kinky curly blond hair, and large blue eyes, a very flirty overall demeanor. Her friend, Kimberly, also began choir at our church them too. She was a statuesque Alto, with fiery red hair. I could just see her on stage in full costume.

My own life decisions during this time were tumbling in the direction of opera, and music education, and vocal performance, and everything MUSIC. It was easy to fall in love with it all when a never ending tide of incredible vocalists kept entering our sanctuary and egging me on.

Autumn pushed me. She was not so easy as Sandy. But I was still so afraid to screw up, to sound bad, that I held back. She taught be solfege. I already knew the signs and meanings, but not how to read music that way. We used hymns out of the United Methodist hymnal, and I write the letters in pencils and then stammer them out in a nervous voice.

When Autumn and Kimberly graduated, they both held performances at the church. What I heard was so astounding, so gorgeous, that I knew I wanted to do it too. I still have the programs from their musical offering, so I can find the songs they sang when I need to hear them.

Then I left for college. I was on a partial music scholarship that I'd had to audition for. That experience has almost been completely blocked from my memory. Ugh, a story for another time when I nerve endings can handle it.

So I was sent to find the soprano voice teacher on the first day of registration. Like a fool, I assumed the woman in front of the sign telling she was the soprano teacher was actually her. Instead, she was the gruff alto teacher, who scared me a little. I'd never been so glad to be a soprano. My actual teacher was lovely, again with the gorgeous women who tried to shape my voice. If you can think of the most flamboyant Italian last name imaginable, that was something close to her last name. She pushed me even harder, and God I loved it, but I still couldn't just let go and sing the way God Almighty intended me to. It was a constant struggle within me, to just sing already and deal with the pressure of screwing up at the same time. It didn't help that one of my professors went to college with my Dad and expected me to be PHENOMENAL at the time.

Needless to say I never met my potential there. I changed my major the elementary education, and never wanted to sing like that again. The itch came when I'd been married for about 3 years with no choir to sing with. I auditioned for and made it into the local community chorale that met at the college where my husband taught. My shining moment was singing The Messiah when I was 5 months pregnant with Winston.

Now...now...I need to sing. It's required. I can't help it or push it away anymore. I'm starting back to school with a couple of classes this summer, and then womb-willing, full time in the Fall when both boys are in school. I am ecstatic. Holding back is no longer an option. Just sing, Mama. Just sing.



My treat for you: This song it what I sing to my children when they are being pitiful...*Snort* http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GFOEuGJd-qA&feature=related