It’s a good thing I know how to write because I think my secret dream of becoming a world-famous musician finally died Wednesday night.
Before you start mourning for me, it’s important to note that my hopes weren’t all that high to begin with. You see, I kind of have no sense of rhythm and no hand-eye coordination.
I figured this out years ago. But at the time, I thought, “No worries. I’ll just sing instead.”
So I tried out for the lead female role in my seventh-grade Christmas play. I landed the role, which came with its own solo.
I was an innkeeper’s wife, and Mary and Joseph came looking for a place to stay. Before they did, though, I had a dream about it.
“Who are these two I have seen in my mind?” I sang. “Could it be true? Could this be Messiah’s time? One is with child. The other one guides the way.”
I don’t remember the rest of the song, but you get the idea.
I didn’t get booed off the stage, and my aunt came up to me afterward and said, “Lindsey, I didn’t know you sang.”
I didn’t either, I responded.
I felt pretty proud of myself afterward. But somewhere along the way I realized they were probably just being nice. I mean my family couldn’t even stand my “singing in the shower” voice.
I think my grandpa even stopped me after church one day and told me I sang really loud, and he didn’t mean that as a compliment, folks.
So with that, my singing career died.
I’ve only given one public performance since. My coworker and I sang the Dixie Chicks’ “Goodbye Earl” during karaoke one night.