a star is a star.

Debbie said a boy that she used to teach called her.  He said he would sing at my dad's funeral.  His name did sound familiar but was a common name, so I didn't think much about it.  We sit in the front pew, the microphone is set up, and it is time.  This young man steps up and begins to sing the sweetest and most beautiful rendition of Ave Maria that my ears have ever witnessed.  It was intense, it was soft, his voice... angellic.  He is amazing.  My thoughts of my father have evaporated and we are in his world for a few, beautiful, heavenly, minutes.

I did know this boy's father.  His father was an essential part of my childhood.  He was a teacher, a teacher I never had.  He was a coach, but never coached me.  He coached volleyball at Watertown, I played volleyball for Carthage.  I hate to toot my own horn, but, at 4 foot 11, I was a great volleyball player.  I didn't know my potential, I just knew my passion.  I had an intense love for volleyball because it was a sport that I excelled at.  On the court, I was needed, I was a contributor, I was strong.  In the ninth grade, we had a match against Watertown.  It was junior varsity, I played hard.  During game, my mantra was to do anything and everything to make the unimaginable happen, go the extra step, get the balls that others wouldn't even try for.  I never had fear, I threw myself in front of anything and made things happen.  After the game, I was sitting on the floor watching Varsity, drinking my water, and the coach from Watertown came over and went out of his way to tell me how well I played.  I acted nonchalant and thanked him, but inside it validated something for me.

Now what I am telling you here is this... I, by default, was lacking something that I relied on others to provide to me.  I did not believe in myself.  I could sing, but I didn't believe in myself enough to do it.  I could play this sport, but still lacked the confidence that assured me that I wouldn't fail.  I always looked forward to the Watertown matches because I knew that he was there, and he believed in me and it made me believe in me.

As a Senior I was chosen to play on the all-star team.  The schools each contributed two players to be on two teams that would compete against each other.  The Watertown coach was the coach for my all-star team.    The match ends at 15 points, but our team had to win by two, so if it was 14-14, the game would have to go to 16 for a win.  We are playing our 5th match, the tie breaker.  It is 11-14, our team is down.  I am on the sidelines and the coach is putting me in, he winks, I can barely contain myself.  I'm like Mike Tyson before a fight, i'm pumped, hopping from foot to foot.  I go in, it's my serve.  First serve...ace.  12-14, second, third, fourth, it is now 15-14, we are up.  I serve one more...ace.  We win.

I want to tell the coach how much he taught me.  I want to tell him that a short conversation between us 4 years earlier kept me going so many times when I felt like nothing.  I want to tell him...he is responsible for so much more than he would ever know...but I don't.  I say nothing.

He is Mark Taylor.  His son, also Mark Taylor.  I could not imagine having a dad like that.  It is no surprise that his son is so amazing.  It has been three years since my father's funeral and tonight I get to witness that voice of angel once again.  A beautiful rendition of "The Phantom of the Opera", he sings, I cry.  I cannot wait to see where this person goes in his life, the possibilities are endless.

Music to sooth the soul.

My whole life was woven in musical fabric.  It all started with my father, he was the musician's musician.  He had this unbelievable talent and his instrument of choice was a piano.  He had soul, he had passion, he was my icon as a child.  It was a wonderful, blissful feeling when the sweets sounds of the piano keys would fill our house with his bluesy, jazzy, piano riffs.  He didn't play very often at home, but was in a few bands when I was a child.  Matter of fact, I thought my dad was Paul McCartney, simply because he resembled him so much.  We had a music room, it was filled with records, a stereo, piano, shag rug..... everything you are picturing at this moment.  In the middle of a room was a big round papasan chair.  You could snuggle, put on the big puffy headphones, and go off into your own world.

I liked to sing.  That was my thing.  People noticed here and there.  My grandfather noticed.  He sat me down and taught me an Irish tune called "Dear Old Donegal"   He wanted me to sing it at an Irish Festival, and I did.... after getting horribly cold feet and crying first.  After I began to sing, all the fears I had evaporated, and I was able to perform the way he wanted.  I was ten.

I sang in chorus in high school, but was still quite shy and never really showed my true potential to anyone.  I had one of the best chorus teachers I have ever met, his name is Melvin Chalker.  He still teaches at Carthage Central School.  I know this because I had the pleasure of running into him last month, and was so excited to have a chance to tell him how good he was at what he did.

After high school, I had a chance to sing again when I moved to Boulder, Colorado.  I sang in a folk duo with a fellow I had met up with who was much older than myself.  We practiced a few tunes and he taught me alot about being myself and just letting it out.  We played frequently at an open mic night at a coffee house called 'Penny Lane'.

A few years later, I found myself living in Boston, MA.  I sang with a band there that required many train rides out on the commuter rail to Framingham, but we never played anywhere.  The band dissolved, and I found myself on my own.  I decided that I wanted to try being a solo performer.  I purchased a Yamaha guitar at a small music store in Allston, MA.  At night I would teach myself from any book I could get my hands on.  My poor sister would be stuck listening to me plucking away late into the evening hours, until it started to sound like a cohesive rhythm.  I hadn't been playing very long before I started to go out and see how I sounded in public.  There was an open mic night at the Kendall Cafe in Cambridge.  I had two or three songs that I had written, tested out on my sister, and off I went.  After performing that evening, I had so much positive feedback, it inspired me to keep it going.  After my third open mic night, the Kendall Cafe offered me a residency on Thursday Nights....6pm - 10pm.  Four hours??!!!  I was like.. "ok, I can handle this.".  I would play, play, play....make songs up as I was going.  Unbelievably it worked, I started to have a following, I was amazed.  I loved ballads and folk songs.  Songs that told stories.  After I gave birth to Luke, the music life was slowed down quite a bit.

After moving home to Watertown, I did start to play and find venues that would hire me to play a few sets.  Over the years, I have had summers where I have played alot, and summers where I didn't pick up a guitar at all.  The music happens with my mood.  After finishing my college work and beginning work as a teacher, I found myself with a new audience...my students.

My first year teaching, I had a rough group of kids.  They were fun people, don't get me wrong, but getting them settled and in a learning frame of mind was challenging.  I found myself having a goal of my students not killing each other, rather than passing the regents at the end of the year.  One day, I brought in my guitar.  I asked them if they would make a deal with me.  We get to work for 35 minutes...35 minute of uninterrupted lesson and I would play a song on my guitar.  I guess they were curious, because it was the first time I had their undivided attention for 35 straight minutes.  Then... I did it.  It was scary, they were brutally honest.  I picked up the guitar and began to play.  You could hear a pin drop.  I sang my tune, and when I finished, it was completely silent.  Then my classroom, my crazy classroom, became a chorus of cheering and clapping that I had never thought possible.  I had them.  Everyday after that came the requests for more, but I had to make sure that there was a wonderful balance between learning and music to get my message through.

I'm in my fifth year teaching, and now everyone knows.  My new students walk in, and the first thing out of their mouth is "When will you play....?"  I am able to keep my performances to 1 or 2 per year in the classroom.  A treat of sorts.  I play at our variety shows and that is where I let go and let them have the best of me, always to a wonderful reception, they make me feel special.  I love music.  It brings people together in ways that nothing else can.  This blog wouldn't be complete if I didn't leave a link to a song... so here it is.

Enjoy.