People Ask Me “Do you sing?” I Could. I Don’t.
I have an unusually deep voice. It’s a little gravelly and a little nasally. Throughout my life, people often say it’s a great voice for radio. I assume because it’s expressive. Many also ask if I sing and when I say don’t they comment that they think I’d have a great voice. If I mention I’ve thought about trying or taking lessons they generally are very encouraging.
I think there is a lesson to be learned by others about why I don’t sing. I know I’ve learned a lot about thinking about why I don’t.
I used to go to my neighbor’s house to play chess or other board games. The Papini’s were a lovely and interesting family. They had moved from Milan to Regina, Saskatchewan so Mr. Papini could do theoretical physics to see if gravity was a wave or a particle. Compared to my blue-collar lower middle-class family, they were high society.
Mrs. Papini spoke many languages fluently, was highly intelligent, and worked with the Italian Consulate to work on protocol matters with visiting dignitaries. They had a far higher quality encyclopedia than my family, subscriptions to National Geographic, Scientific American, and other materials I loved to read. All the boys played concert instruments like Violin or Cello, plus they were excepted to be top performers in school to move on to university.
Mr. Papini loved opera. He loved to play it loud sometimes on their amazing stereo and often would sing it loudly in our ears to tease us while we played games. He was quite good and it was fun knowing he was trying to annoy us.
He sang confidently, proudly, because he could. Because he loved the music. I think he would have sung it the same way whether he sounded great or not. I admired that.
I think there are some who sing because they love being entertainers. I’m sure there are many reasons why. Some choose it as a career. Many like Mr. Papini did it because they love the music and are moved by it. I wanted to, however, not for the reasons you might think.
Like Mr. Papini, there have been times in my life when I’ve sung out loud. Rarely with an audience and never as a child or youth. When I was about 20 I sang some Frank Zappa in a car with a friend purely because I loved the songs and knew them well. He said I sounded great and much like Zappa.
Usually, when I listened to music I wanted to hear the artist sing. I’d sing in the car on long trips out of boredom. Once I sang along badly to Every Step You Take by the Police while painting a bedroom. I knew I sounded bad because my low voice did not suit Sting’s high pitch. I didn’t care. I was feeling joyous painting my room and enjoying the song.
I am definitely entertaining because of my gregarious nature, yet have no desire to be an entertainer. I’ve had fleeting fantasies of being a rock star, stand-up comic, and other forms of entertainment as many do without it being strong enough a desire to actually put in the time to do it.
I’ve enjoyed being a character actor in live amateur theatre. I might do it again someday. I still want to sing, and maybe play guitar, but not for a reason that is readily apparent.
Looking back though, I’ve not sung often. I’ve had a tough life which is another story and a lot of it self-inflicted due to severe ADHD that was diagnosed with as a middle-aged man along with severe anxiety that I suffered with terribly until about 30 and now have learned to manage.
Not that it was all miserable. I still laughed and enjoyed life. The peaks of happiness though where I would overcome my anxieties completely and sing out loud have been far too few for my liking.
I wish I could juggle. Not because I want to be a juggler, I just think it’d be a cool feather to have in my cap. A parlor trick that would be fun to do in the right situation. The same with playing guitar or dancing or leading a sing a long with friends if the situation felt right.
There is though one situation where I wanted to be able to sing possibly with a guitar. Specific songs. For a specific person. For someone I loved. For someone that loved me. As a private secret gift.
That’s a fantasy I’ve had since I heard Your Song by Elton John. I dreamed of singing that song for someone special. The same with Downstream by Supertramp. This is where this story gets sad.
I’ve been fortunate to have many deep-loving friendships. More than most people. My authentic, humorous loving open nature has led to building deep bonds with far more than most people. I’ve been so fortunate in that regard. So much of my success in life is indirectly through some of those relationships.
Even as a manager in the software industry, I have quality relationships with former managers, peers, coworkers, and reports. Coffee shops or pubs or restaurants I attend frequently end up knowing my name and treating me so well. I’m the character they know and love. Once again, I’m grateful for it.
The problem is, my love life has gone poorly. That in itself is another story. I’ll give some highlights here.
The first woman I loved and that loved me was ruined because, in her words near the end, I was her Desperado like the Eagles song. I didn’t believe her at first. I didn’t think she truly loved me and I realized I truly loved her far too late. I ruined it.
I never loved my wife (now ex-wife) romantically, although I did love her deeply as a best friend. We did get two wonderful children out of the marriage.
I fell in love with a troubled woman that I thought was just holding back because of her traumatic childhood, youth, and early adulthood. Sadly she is a covert narcissist and never loved me.
So I’ve never had that love of my life learn a special song to serenade her. Maybe it will happen, maybe it won’t. I don’t want to think about it too much. It hurts.
I wish I could sign out loud because I wanted to for that special someone I loved. That loved me.
I still have hope!
