Side Streets, Kimra Traynor Herb, 833 words

This is what happens when  you wish for something too hard. You get your wish.  And then you wonder why you wished for it in the first place. Here's my story: ever since I became a mother, I had a fervent hope that one of my sons would inherit my musical gifts and enjoy performing as much as I do.

My husband, though loaded with vast amounts of brain power, artistic abilities, and other fabulous qualities, hoped that we would have boys who were analytical, self-sufficient, and bright. Our hopes and dreams for the boys are generally the same; however, I kept hoping that one or all of the boys would develop the love of performing and light up the stage with his presence.

So I enrolled the boys in music lessons, starting in kindergarten on the piano. They learned their music, plunked through their songs, and rushed outside to play with their friends. When the time came for them to participate in school music productions, however, their forte seemed to be in getting through the show in one piece rather than excelling. During my oldest's son's first Christmas program, which featured "Christmases across the world", the audience and myself were treated to my son chewing on his sombrero string the entire performance. He may have been singing; to this day he swears he was; but you could not hear him- his lips were not moving (except to chomp down on that string). My second son claimed to love to sing, and indeed he did display a lion's dose of exuberance- until he fell off the risers. By his second grade year he had been delegated to the bottom row and it was at that point that he decided that if he could not elicit big chuckles from his peers by "falling" off the bleachers, he no longer loved to perform.

That left my last child. Tagging almost ten years behind his oldest brother, I really had no real hope that this child was going to be any different than his brothers. After all, when they were little, they loved to dance and sing with me in the living room too; so I was sure that the moment he reached kindergarten age he would shuck his microphone for a microscope and that would be the end of it.

Oh......was I ever mistaken. This past weekend, my  children's choral group at church preformed, "I'd Like To Teach The World To Sing".  I had distributed mini solos to any children who were willing to take the chance, and my son's part was "grow apple trees and honey bees!" Now imagine that sung in the loudest possible way...... "GROW APPLE TREES AND HONEY BEES!"

And you have the picture of how my son sang. But it didn't end there.....oh, no, indeed. The children were instructed that after they finished their solo, they were to step aside from the microphone and allow the next person in line sing their part. Poor Tiffany Hayes, who followed my son, had to strain to get her mouth close to the microphone to sing "and snow white turtle doves", because my boy wasn't budging. He belted out the rest of the song into the microphone, and basically, the rest of the choir was mere back up for his booming resonant voice.  Under other circumstances, I might have been proud. After all, his pitch was perfect, his tone clear, and his wording sure. Everyone in the place could hear each and every word. However, since it was a CHORAL piece, and he was supposed to be part of an ensemble, I motioned him to move over and let poor little Tiffany be seen. Poking my finger to the left, I mouthed, "move over". He looked right at me, shook his head and burst forth with another stanza.    The kid was in his element. I was afraid that at any given  moment, he was going to pull the microphone off of the stand, and start circulating through the audience, murmuring sweet nothings between song phrases. "You are looking FABULOUS, Mrs. Butler," I could almost hear  him saying, before continuing with his Las Vegas act. When it was all over, the kids took a bow and hurried down from the stage. All but my little Tom Jones, who sauntered off the stage, bowing as he descended the stairs. By this time, the audience was a-titter with the humor of the situation, and I, of course, was mortified that it was my son hogging the limelight for so long.    Now that he has gotten a taste of fame (of course everyone told him how FABULOUS he did), he has been bitten hard by the performance bug and can't wait to take the stage again. I have repeatedly explained to him the essence of performing in a GROUP and about BLENDING and mixing his voice with the others. I am pretty sure it is falling on deaf ears. He has heard his voice resonating over the microphone and darn it, he liked it.     I have got to be careful what I wish for. I'll have to keep reminding myself of this experience, and how sometimes, getting that wish can be more painful that a wish gone unfulfilled.

   -30-

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