Like a Lark Who is Learning to Pray

Mom wanted to be a big band singer, like Martha Tilton or Peggy Lee.  She told us when we were young that she asked her Father for permission to become a singer, but he said 'No.  Only 'loose women' go into show business.  ( Since John ( our Grandfather) worked for Howard Cullman who backed many Broadway musicals in Broadway's Golden Age, I wonder what he knew about 'loose women'?).  Anyhow, Mom went to Teachers' College, Columbia Univ. after graduating from College of New Rochelle, but sang whenever she could.

On long car trips, Mom would sing because 'I can't stand the silence'.  So, I learned the lyrics to such songs as 'Cigareets, and Whusky and Wild Wild Women"; "  The Wild Goose Song"; " Climb Ev'ry Mountain; The New Ashmolean; and most of the Johnny Mercer song catalog; 'Artificial Flowers' ( I wonder if my life would have been different if she'd sung 'Mack The Knife"?  Perhaps I might have been less shy/ more daring?  Probably not.

She still sings, and it is just as crazy making.  In the hospital this Summer, one day, Mom sang all the verses to 'I'll Take Manhattan" just because my Brother in Law, who was visiting, mentioned he'd just come from Manhattan.  Mom sang at a forte level, to the point where her roomate and visitors were peeking around the curtain to see what on earth was happening.  Why did it make me crazy?  Because she was using singing as an attention getting device:  either Ginny or I would be watching TV, reading a magazine or book, and Mom burst into song to distract us.  That's why I never brought into her excuse " I sing because I'm happy.  Don't you want me to be happy?"  Yes, I wanted her to be happy and quiet, if such a thing were possible. 

There were times/I'm sure you knew...come to think of it, "My Way" was the only Sinatra song she ever sang on car trips, and that's my whole point.  I wanted to sing, but could not, because Mom had center stage, and it never occurred to her to share the spotlight.  So many times, I've had a song, tune, motet, etc, playing in my head, only to have it drownded out by her singing or humming.

At this point in her life, I am going to remain silent, and let her sing when she comes home.  I don't think it would be kind or fair to confront her with old grudges.  I'll join a choir in the new year, and find my own voice.