One of my daughter’s first exposures to music was her daddy playing bass guitar for her. She was fascinated by the instrument and couldn’t stop watching. She was about 6 months old then.
She’s 3 now and has her own keyboard, her own bongos and her own xylophone. Her daddy just started giving her guitar lessons on his childhood guitar. She loves it.
I know he would love to give her a floyd rose guitar when she is old enough to appreciate it. I think they would make a cute little father-daughter band.
It was discovered in church, at a very young age, that I was a talented singer.
Joyful Noise: Poems for Two Voices (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
The notes coming out of my mouth were beautiful, but there was one small problem: I have intense stage fright.
I could sing in front of small groups of people, but not without my voice quavering. We attended a fairly large church and I was often tapped to sing solos in the children’s choir that I could barely even squeak out in practice.
Still I continued to sing and even took opera singing lessons for a couple of years. Recitals were always terrifying, and eventually I gave it up.
My husband is NOT a singer, by any stretch of the imagination. He plays the bass guitar and does a wonderful job at it, and sometimes he can sing in a lower register, but not often. In fact, if I catch him singing around the house I will say “what are you doing with your mouth?”
I was reading an advice column the other day and a reader had written in to complain that when he travels with his wife and her father, they sing along very loudly with the car radio. He doesn’t think that they are very good and wants to know how to get them to stop.
The columnists response? Try to focus on the fact that they are being joyful instead of screaming curses at each other or sitting sullenly in their seats. I think she’s right, but I would have added – why not sing along with them?
So my husband is a horrible singer, so what? I’d rather he bebop through the house singing some ridiculous song than stomping through the house being a dickwad. I love that he is happy enough to show joy when he’s home with me.
I hope that he (with his awful voice) and me (with my stagefright) can somehow manage to convey to our (yet unborn) daughter to make a joyful noise. Life is too short to be critical.