Song and Dance

For a brief period in my life I thought I was a great singer.  Then I recorded myself singing.  To this day I can’t believe the voice on the tape recorder (yes, it was a long time ago) was mine.

I vowed never to sing in front of an audience again.  Dogs, yes.  Babies, maybe.  Nieces and nephews only because it’s expected of eccentric aunts. And Bob because he has no choice.

But make no mistake, there would be no singing in choirs, churches, or karaoke bars. 
Reality was too harsh.  I had to resort to my imagination. And just like that, a scene unfolded in my mind’s eye during jury duty. By all accounts we, the people, were just sitting quietly in a sterile room.  But in my mind, so were the Bee Gees!

Why is it we act as if we don’t need the magic that musicals – even imaginary ones – provide?  Who doesn’t love “Hakuna Matata” from the Lion King or “Any Dream Will Do” from Joseph and The Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat or “Gonna Wash That Man Right Outta My Hair” from South Pacific or Grease Lightening from Grease or “Defying Gravity” from Wicked or “Time Warp” from The Rocky Horror Picture Show or “Seventy-Six Trombones” from The Music Man or “Singing in the Rain”  or…. you get my drift.

Doesn’t your mood shift just thinking about these songs? They are timeless representations of flights of fancy. They remind us what could happen if we gave in to a sudden urge to break out in song and dance like this flash mob at the Antwerp Station in Belgium. (I never tire of watching these 200 dancers surprise the crowd or the crowd’s reaction to the sound of music.)

I think it’s this desire for more of the magic and emotion that music evokes that make “Glee” or “The Voice” or any number of shows that showcase musical and theatrical ability so popular. 

It’s like we can’t get enough of this creative, connecting kind of drama because there’s too much of the ridiculous kind going on at the office or school or the DMV or the grocery store or other places in our lives.

For years I used to teach aerobics.*  This was basically my excuse to shake my groove thing and sing  without shame.  While I don’t miss the leg warmers or the thong leotards and headbands, I do miss thrashing about in unison to silly or suggestive songs until we all felt better.

Bob is seldom impressed by my disco moves and almost never by my singing.  He might possibly be impressed by the number of songs I know or the unusual lines I substitute for the lyrics or the new songs I’ve learned from listening to Sirius XM.  I’m not at all sure he cares for the “if you’re going to be crabby, you have to sing your complaints to me if you want me to respond” rule, although I find this helps tremendously.

So today’s six word summary shall be:  Laughter is music to my ears.

*One time a member said watching me teach was like watching poetry in motion.  Never one to trust I heard a compliment correctly, here’s how it went down in my mind in six word summaries, of course:

The best compliment?  Poetry in motion. 
Unless he said “poultry in motion”.
That would be the chicken dance.

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