She loved it when I sang

Ive been working on my Appellate Brief all weekend, and have made some decent progress on it. It's nice to have the weekend to dedicate to the project. The apartment is quiet, and I am remaining relatively disciplined in my task. This morning I woke, though, with an odd memory. Rather out of place, rather distant, it was the remembrance of how much my mother loved when I sang.

I had always been a bit of a singer. One of my first childhood memories was of me playing on the playground by myself, singing to myself a made-up musical in my head. Later, I put my song to more social uses singing for my church, joining choirs, acting in (actual) musicals, and eventually doing some solo work and getting leads in those musicals. It was never effortless for me. It was something that I always had to work very hard at, even with the easiest music. I was definitely not a natural, but it was something that I loved.

Whether it was pride in her own flesh, or an acknowledgment of her own dreadful singing voice, my mother was truly the biggest fan of my singing. It was something that made her happy. I remember going on a family trip to New Orleans, where we saw a man singing on the corner of a street. Mom prodded, "Go up there and sing with him!" I was sheepish, but the man and I ended up ripping out a jazz version of "Amazing Grace." When we were done, we had attracted a crowd, and Mom was just glowing.

When she died just a few months later, I sang that same song at her death bed, knowing that would be the proper way to say goodbye if such a thing existed. I tried to sing it for her funeral, but could barely get the notes out. This was a woman who inspired so much in our community that her wake took two days, and had lines running out the door of the church. Her funeral was standing-room only. To have that woman take pride in me, take pride in my voice, it gave me something that I haven't found since. The world is full of critics, and Mom was more than just a fan... she was Mom.

I stopped singing when I went to college. Maybe it was that my mother was no longer around to support me in this endeavor. I think it was more the competitive and self-serving feeling that singing started to take on. Singing became part of a career goal, something that would advance my personal interests. It wasn't about sharing, it was about achieving. I lost interest.

Maybe it's time to start singing again.

Musical Fodder for my Writing:
"Landslide" Fleetwood Mac,
The Dance