school choir. Sister Judith was the head of the choir. When you were in sixth grade you could
try out. My mother was over-joyed. She had been in several church choirs and evidently
envisioned her first born in following in her notes.
The big day arrived. I gave it my best shot. I failed. Failing was bad enough, but I had to go
home and tell my mother. I knew she would be devastated. She couldn't understand what had
happened. The next morning, mom called and spoke to Sister Judith. She made sure the nun
realized she was not calling to complain, but only to find out the things I got wrong. The nun
assured her that I was a wonderful child and there had been only one mistake: I sang the
scale backwards, not once but three times. I guess she was allowing for a freak accident.
Alas, there was none.
It was about this same time that I thought my future should take on a new direction.
So, I began to write.
No comments:
Post a Comment