Today, I was driving along on a beautiful, tree-lined road. The sun was shining through golden, autumn leaves casting cool looking shadows on the sidewalk by the road. Just then, the Jim Croce song, “Time in a Bottle”, came on the radio. Instantly, I was transformed to another time and place, a place where I was much, much younger and my surroundings were very different. Being that I was alone in the car at the time, I started singing with all my heart, really belting out the song while at the same time appreciating the power of the words. After all, the lyrics have such special meaning considering Jim Croce died, tragically, so very young and so very suddenly.
As I was singing, I came to a red light. Something drew my attention, pushing me to look over to the car on my right. A young man was looking over at me, starring, the look on his face was actually hysterical. His expression was one of disbelief, as if he thought I had lost my mind! (Perhaps I had!) Maybe he thought I was talking to myself, maybe he thought I was just a crazy middle-aged lady, whatever he thought I couldn’t even begin to imagine. All I know is he was a lucky man. He was lucky because he couldn’t possibly have heard me singing! My windows were up, very tight. After all, I may love to sing, but I was certainly not blessed with a beautiful singing voice, and subjecting the world to my voice is simply too harsh an action.
My Dad, however, had an amazing voice. He used to sing Frank Sinatra songs on Sunday mornings and I am not exaggerating when I say, to me, he sounded exactly like ‘Old Blue Eyes’ himself. I would sit in my room and listen to my Dad singing while he was getting dressed for the day. To this day I can hear him, loud and clear, in my head. Those memories still make my heart smile. “All or Nothing at All”, “Come Fly With Me”, “Strangers in the Night”, and “What are You Doing the Rest of your Life” would be playing and my Dad knew every word and would sing out strong. I really loved those times. His strong voice, so clear and deep would ring through the upstairs. If he was singing, all was right with the world.
Although I have my Dad’s love for music, I do not have the quality of his voice. I heard myself sing on a cassette tape, once, many years ago, and could not believe that horrible voice was mine! You would think it would keep me from ever singing again, but it doesn’t. I’ll sing whenever I am given the chance, as long as I’m with those that care about me. I would never subject strangers to my squeaking! I love the XM radio in my car. I don’t bring my IPod when I drive as most people do, as I love the surprise of not knowing what song is coming on next. Each song is like a little gift, bringing back its own memories and feelings. (At home I use my IPod, especially when I cook…I sing and stir and sauté and I’m a happy lady!)
I admire and am a bit envious of anyone who can carry a tune and wish I could do so. But, whether I am off-key or not, I will continue to sing at any opportunity. Whether it’s Carole King, Cat Stevens, James Taylor, Billy Joel, Bruce Springsteen, the Beatles, or pretty much anyone, I will sing along. I honestly don’t care who pulls up in the car next to me, who’s watching television in the other room, or what they think when they hear me, I will sing and enjoy.
So, the next time you pull up to a light and there’s a lady in a car really getting into the music, stare all you like, but just let her be. She may be a bit strange, but she’s having fun! Perhaps just be happy, and maybe a bit thankful, that her windows are up!
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