In a conversation with my daughter-in-law last night, I mentioned that I had picked up a new pastime during my retirement. Kristen thought about it for a minute and said, “Kareoke?”
When I stopped laughing long enough to catch my breath, I said, “No. Blogging.”
You might not think that was so funny unless you’ve heard me sing. I love to sing; as a ‘tween (10, 11, 0r 12 year-old) I devoured Hit Parade magazine. The lyrics to all the current songs were in it, and I learned them all and loved to sing along with my record player. (I’m referring to the era before 8-tracks, cassette tapes, stereophonic sound, and CDs!) I had all the 45 rpm records, including Elvis, Connie Francis, Bobby Rydell, and Fat’s Domino.Vocalizing was so much fun to me.
Back in the seventies, I even performed on stage in a community theater production of the musical, “Godspell.” The fact that my physician at the time, Dr. George Bostwick, who had been in the audience, later commented that I had “so much personality on stage that no one even noticed your voice” should have given me pause.
A few years later, when I sang to my then four-year-old son Eric as I was tucking him in his bed, “Are You Lonesome Tonight?’ I assumed he was crying because my rendition was so touching.
It wasn’t until 1984, shortly after I married Joe (yep, husband number 2) that I learned the truth: I am singing impaired! At least that was what Joe called my affliction. It’s been a rude awakening, and I now only sing along with music from the 50’s on satellite radio when I’m ALONE in my car. . . which is why the notion of me taking up kareoke was such a hoot!
The sad thing is, being singing impaired does not qualify one for disability benefits, either, which could eventually leave one tone deaf AND destitute.