Things they never tell you.

I don't sing anymore.

I didn't really think about that until this morning when an 'olden days song' popped into my head, and I opened my mouth to sing to the music in my head.


We were sailing along on Moonlight Bay
We could hear the voices ringing
They seemed to say
"You have stolen her heart"
"Now don't go 'way"
As we sang love's old sweet song on Moonlight Bay.

Word by Edward Madden, Music by Percy Weinrich

I could not believe the catter-walling that escaped my lips.  I was horrified...what had happened to my voice.  Not only was I off key, but there seemed to be a bunch of gunk at the back of my throat that caused me to cough and sputter before I could continue.

Several minutes and half a bottle of water later, I tried again.  I was hoping I would sound a bit better.  This time the gunk was gone, but it was replaced by the sound of a squeaky door hinge.  What the heck?

I used to sing A LOT, I was a member of the church choir for years and years.  My mom and I used to put the church hymnal on the window sill while we were doing the dinner dishes and sing harmony, A-cappella, I sang soprano, she, alto.  We were pretty darn good.

Later in life I was not so confident to sing in front of people, so I started to sing along with my favorite tapes, or with a tune I liked on the radio.  I'd hold a wooden spoon in front of my mouth and I'd pretend I was singing duets with the likes of Frank Sinatra, Roger Whittaker, or Elton John.  (I did I ever tell you on my bucket list is an entry to sing on stage with Elton John).  Now I would be too embarrassed.  How sad is that?

So, how come nobody ever tells you, when you get old, your voice gets gravelly, turns to sandpaper, a rasp, a rusty saw. Today I'm pondering, where did my sweet sounding, lyrical voice go?  When did it go?  Why did I stop singing, was it because I knew I couldn't?  What can I do get my singing voice back?  Is singing really that important in the first place?

Yes, yes it is.  I had a passion for singing, it brought me joy, brightened my day, and made me feel good inside and out.  Maybe I never should have stopped because I thought I didn't sound good anymore, when in reality I still did.  Maybe I should have kept on singing with my favorites Frank Sinatra, Roger Whittaker and Elton John...nobody but heard but me.

Still, I'm sad nobody ever told me the day would come when there would be gravel at the back of my throat, and the sounds emitting from it would sound like sandpaper, a rasp, rusty saw and squeaky hing all at the same time.

(Insert sigh here.)

"We were sailing along.........