On Singing

I love to sing. Sometimes I sing quietly to myself. Most times I sing out loud. Sometimes I bellow the tunes out as if I am performing a concert (especially in the shower). I like to make up my own songs and sing them. I make up songs about the boys and the dog. I sing to my boys; I sing to my dog. Sometimes my boys ask me to stop. My dog looks at me when I sing with a funny little expression on his face. Maybe he would like to run from the room, maybe he would like to bark "shut up" to me. But he never does. He just sits and listens. I have always loved to sing. When I was in sixth grade, a group of us would sing at recess - "I Will Survive" by Gloria Gaynor. The boys would always run away. When I was a young teen we would swing on the swings at the campground in Maine and sing "Don't Go Breaking My Heart" by Elton John and Kiki Dee. In high school and beyond we would be out cruising and singing whatever was playing on the radio. I loved music - I spent most of my money on cassettes - I had hundreds of them. I knew all the words and would sing them happily.

I met my husband in 1992. Anytime there was music on, I would sing. One day after we had been dating for about six months and I had fallen head over heals in love with this fabulous man, I was singing away and he said to me,"You know you can't sing, right."

"What? Are you kidding me? Of course I can sing."

"No, you really can't"

Wow - I had been singing for nearly 25 years and no one ever told me I couldn't sing. But I am sure he is right. I am sure that I can't carry a tune to save my life. It really doesn't matter because I love to sing and I will keep on singing. It makes me happy.

I am very thankful that Mike told me I can't sing because if he hadn't, I may have tried out for American Idol and had Simon tell me, "That was absolutely the worst thing I have ever heard. It sounded like two Tom cats fighting in an alley."