How Can We Keep from Singing?

I found another thing to put on my to-do list. Tonight was my sister's last choir concert at her high school because she's graduating in a couple weeks. The theme was centered around one of their songs titled, "How Can We Keep from Singing?" Essays were read from the seniors in choir that emphasized why they chose to sing even when trampled by finals and after-school groups and sports. Each essay brought a new insight on why singing is so important to them. For example: Singing is the only pure thing in an evil world, singing is a way to leave your troubles at the door, it's an escape, it's a drug, it's harmony with your friends, it's fun, it's a message even when the music is in another language...and even when there are no words at all!

Lately, I've been content with just singing in my car, belting out ballads like "Eclipse of the Heart" sung by Bonnie Tyler. My favorite is sining "Can't Take My Eyes Off of You" by Frankie Valli with the windows rolled down and watching the old people start singing when I pull up next to them. Because singing is ageless. It's in the soul. Which is why I thought I would bring it up in my Spiritual Strudel. It's nom nom. Even the most awfulest of singers can't help but belt out their favorite songs when they're alone. It's an urge. An impulse. It's also a cure. Singing karaoke in a bar, singing while fist pumping with your girls at the club, singing in the shower, singing along at concerts, singing the national anthem at a baseball game, singing your audition for American Idol, singing in the opera, in a musical, in the streets...it's all the same.

Singing is global. It breaks open the language barrier. Everyone can understand the emotions of a song even if they can't understand the words. In high school choir, Mrs. Freeman would play us a new song in Latin or Italian or French and have us make skits about it while she played it in the room. She never told us what it was about. Somehow, even when the situations were wrong (mostly because they became outlandish), we always understood the emotion and were always right.

People scoff at singers and judge them worse than Simon Cowell. Good! Criticize! How else will pieces of art be made or new genres created? It takes criticism to grow stronger. However, how could anyone truly hate anything that comes from the heart? I love singing to elderly men and women at the nursing home before Christmas. We gather all around them and sing to them their beloved carols and they offer suggestions. Hunched over wrinkle pots come shuffling from the very darkest corners, smelling of stale urine, to hear the music. Their smiles are what keep us singing and not want to leave. My favorite part is their voices. It's not like old people have smooth, toned voices or anything. They suck, to be quite frank. But I'll tell you, I've never heard a more beautiful sound because every word means something to them. Memories of Christmas pour out of them at the sound and you can see them as young children, glitter and shit coming out of their eyes just as if they've just sat on Santa's lap.

It looks like I'll have to get back into choir. It'll take a while to find one that I'm comfortable with and that I think does a decent job. Freeman has made me a choir snob. Sometimes I can't handle choir members and divas so maybe something like an a capella group would be best for me. Something where we're all on equal ground because my voice is a blender anyway. We'll see where this goes, but one thing's for sure: I cannot keep from singing.