the id, the ego, & the single misfiring brain cell

but are we singers?

Sure! Why not?

My mother has an amazing voice. I've always loved to hear her sing. Her voice is strong and full-bodied and accurate. And there's something about her singing that makes me want to sing.* She loves to sing, and you can tell by listening to her that she loves it. It seems almost belittling at this point to say that she made All-State choir in Texas as a child, and had voice lessons, and was offered a record contract when I was young (and passed it up because she felt she belonged at home with us). She...well, you'd just have to hear her, I guess. She can carry the house, easily.

* This is the best quality of all, in my opinion.

Then there's my father, who has a beautiful voice. His isn't as strong as Mother's. I've long believed that strength is predominantly a quality of voice that one is born to. My father has a softer, more expressive and (dare I say) versatile voice. I love to hear Daddy sing, too, and I love to sing with him.

My designation of Daddy's voice as "more versatile" is limited to my experience and worse, my memories. (Well, all are subject to my faulty memory filter, in one form or another.) But Daddy has the kind of voice that makes you live in it. It isn't loud. It usually isn't strong. It's versatile, and always, it feels. He can sing lead, alto, tenor, or bass. I prefer to hear him sing by himself, or as harmony to Mother's lead (or vice versa). But I love to hear him sing.

My big brother Noel I don't talk about a lot, but he...can sing. Wow. Can he sing.

When I lived in North Carolina and was about to graduate from college, my family came up to see me walk. Noel came up a couple of days early. I took him to a karaoke bar.

He was initially reticent. He didn't want to sing a song without sheet music.

Isn't that sweet? :) Or stuck up, depending on how you prefer to see it. Heh.

Eventually, I convinced him to go up and sing. I don't remember how I carried that off. He went up and sang a show tune. I don't remember what he sang, but I do remember this: he knocked the house ON ITS ASS. No joke. Within about four bars, all dancing had ceased on the dance floor. All eyes were on him. All was still. With his final note, he stepped a couple of feet away from the mic and belted it out. The place came from together when he walked away from the stage.

And me? I was like, Dude! That's my brother!

Then, a couple of weekends ago, my brother David was in my home, playing my guitar, and singing--singing songs he wrote. I've heard David sing before, but he's learned a lot. And he writes some awesome tunes. (And music sounds just amazing in my greatroom, for some reason). David is a talented performer. I love hearing him sing.

So...me.

I sing a bit. I can carry a tune and I can carry harmony. The thing is, I don't belt. I don't have that "first female vocal" sound. I just sing.

In Officer Training School, I joined the choir. I took alto, because my voice is alto. We performed a few venues, mostly Air Force things. It wasn't until I was at Aerospace Basic Course that I met our director--the next Air Force Band Director--and he told me that he had two ringers, and I was one of them. That was possibly the greatest compliment that I have gotten for my singing.

But then, he hadn't heard my family sing. ;)

And you know what? If you aren't careful, I'll sing. Yeah. That's right. I'll play the guitar and sing. And you know what? You'll think it's oddly pretty cool....

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