Very Vocal

By Mary Lou Ardrey

My father was a gentle man. He played the mouth organ (that’s what he called the harmonica). I sat on his lap and sang along when I was only three. My daddy thought that I was smart and the most talented little kid. He had me show off to everyone. So I proudly sang for anyone who would listen. No coaxing was necessary. In Sunday school and in church I sang the loudest.

I loved to sing.

In the Third Grade, the teacher announced that we would have tryouts for Glee Club. I was thrilled and my hand went up, waving, my hand shouting, “Me, Me.”

The group of volunteers marched down to the music room to sing for the music teacher. The other little kids were nervous and scared, but not me. I had talent. My daddy said so, and I sang in the Sunday school choir. When it was my turn, I sang out loud and clear.

The next day the teacher announced the names of the children selected for Glee Club. I waited as each name was called, thinking mine would be next. One by one the children whose name was called left the room to report to the music teacher and start rehearsals.

Finally, the teacher put the paper down on her desk. I raised my hand and questioned, “You didn’t call my name?”  

She replied, “No I didn’t.” 

I was crushed. What was wrong with these people? I can sing; my daddy said so. Well, anyway, I can always sing in Sunday school.

Not exactly. Shortly after that, the choir lady who played the organ called me aside. She quietly explained that it would be better if I just moved my lips and didn’t sing, and stood in the back row.

That really hurt. Did that mean my daddy was wrong? How could that be? Well, if they didn’t appreciate me, I just wouldn’t sing.

And that’s the way it was. Until, as a teenager, a great opportunity came along. A variety show for charity. I convinced two of my girlfriends to do a sister act with me. We made Flapper costumes with lots of fringe, practiced the Charleston and sang Toot, Toot, Tootsie, Goodbye. I remembered all the words. As it turned out, we were a sensation, stole the show, everyone congratulated us.

Then came the compliment. “You were so great. How do you ever do that funny thing when you sing off key?” 

My reply was, “Oh, that was easy.”

What did I care? I had fun. The trouble was that my voice sounded great inside my head. It’s when it came out that was the problem.

My story doesn’t end here, for it is your family’s love and appreciation that really counts.  I vividly remember one afternoon when I tried to get my sweet little boy to take a nap. I had him on my lap, patting him gently and softly singing a lullaby. He put his little finger up to my lips and said, “Plez, Mommy, don’t sing. I go to sleep.”

I laughed so that I almost dropped him. Now I sing only in the shower. But I sound good to me.

[Mary Lou has been active in theater for at least 60 years, in New Jersey and in Englewood, Florida, at the Lemon Bay Playhouse. She has been involved with all aspects of theater, including acting, directing, producing, writing and teaching.]