My singing teacher’s name is Tony. Tony has a brilliant smile, an easy laugh and he says to me “Who told you that you couldn’t sing”? He tells me I have a pretty good range. He laughs when I make a mistake and tells me to try it again. I say “I have trouble remembering tunes and singing without the piano”. He says “You mean acapella? Who cares?” He tells me that even though he ‘s going to give me some exercises to help, the most important thing is singing and connecting with my audience (audience? Oh my – slight anxiety sets in). What’s not to like about my Thursday evenings since I started singing with Tony?
After my first lesson I sang all the way home in the car. According to Tony, lots of his clients practice in their cars; it’s private and the acoustics rock! I sang when I got home. I got out my tinny electric piano and sang with that, I sang in the shower and while I ground the coffee. I sang to the cats and got out some old sheet music and sang with that. What a blast!
And then my sister came for a short visit. We sat outside to have an apple and enjoy the autumn afternoon. The trees were glorious, blazing with color. I said: “Hey – I’m taking singing lessons”.
Her retort was quick, automatic and completely expected. “Do you think anyone can help you”?
And this, my friends, is why I called Tony in the first place.