So Many Dishes

I’m a singer. I mean that literally. My undergraduate degree is in music, and I was considered a vocal performance major. Plus, my mother’s family was very musical. In fact, after she graduated from high school, my mother sang with a couple of big bands. So music has been a huge part of my life, especially singing.

It’s hard to pick just one song that was pivotal in my life. Maybe it was the first Sunday School solo I sang when I was four. That performance lived in family lore, because apparently I cried when it was over. I had practiced at my grandparents’ house, and my grandfather always clapped when I was done. But nobody clapped in the church! My, how times have changed.

I still remember the first song I learned when I started taking voice lessons, the Irish ballad Eileen Aroone. Then there were my college audition pieces. Ken and I claimed Herb Alpert’s recording of This Guy’s in Love with You as “our song.” That’s another significant song. And I can’t leave out the Bach-Gounod Ave Maria. There was a period of my life when I was asked to sing it so frequently, I began to think people thought that was the only thing I could sing. There are countless others that are special to me.

But if I have to name one song, it would be Bye, Bye, Blackbird. Naturally, there’s a story:

When I was teaching, each year I would attend the Florida Music Educators Association conference in January. The conference is held in Tampa, and Ken came along most years. (I really appreciated not having to drive in Tampa, which I swear has the worst traffic in Florida. That’s saying something.) In addition to taking students who had qualified for one of the all-state honor choirs that practiced and performed during the conference, I attended lots of professional development workshops, and connected with colleagues. It was always an interesting time.

We would register Ken as a guest so that he could attend workshops, as well. He would usually find a couple of percussion sessions, but he’d also go to talks that simply struck his fancy. He encouraged me to do the same, not just pick the programs that I thought pertained to my teaching.

The conference always ends on Saturday, with the student concerts. One year, my students’ concert was on Saturday morning, but we had some time before it began. There was a vocal music session titled “how to lay down a line,” taught by a vocal jazz instructor from the University of North Florida. Ken decided to go with me.

The presenter was dynamic. She was a phenomenal singer, and she had a band with her. She discussed vocal jazz concepts, and demonstrated by singing Bye, Bye Blackbird. This was new territory for me. All of my training had been classical, and though I’d sung and taught other styles, I’d always felt unsure of what I was doing.

The instructor called for a volunteers to try singing the song with the band. A young woman, who I think was a college student, got up. She had a lovely voice, but she sang “straight,” not improvising or taking any liberties with the melody or rhythm. The instructor worked with her for a few minutes, then asked for another volunteer.

Ken poked me and said, “you should do it,” so I raised my hand. And was selected. I knew the song, and I felt strangely confident. It didn’t matter that I was standing up in front of a room full of people. I could do this!

I’m not sure I’d ever had so much fun singing before that. It was an exhilarating experience. The instructor was very complimentary. She gave me some suggestions, and urged me to do more jazz singing.

That experience freed me to try singing music I never would have considered before. It’s given me the opportunity to make music with some incredibly talented musicians. It has brought me so much joy. So, maybe there is one song that changed my life.