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As I Was Saying
By Opal Toney
I believe in miracles ...
I read the other day where Oliver Wendall Homes said that many
people go to their graves with their music still in them.
I thought to myself that appears to be what may happen in my case.
But I can tell you right now it’s not what I have in mind.
You see, I have all this music stored up inside me, ‘been there as long
as I can remember.
But try as hard as I know how, I can’t get a single note to come forth.
I guess if I’m envious of anything, it’s the way so many folks have of
opening their mouths and a beautiful melody just floats out.
But not me. I’m always opening my mouth but with much different results.
But I guess I’ll just keep on expecting a miracle.
Yeah, I’ll keep trying and one of these days I’ll bust out in song!
Cause I know it’s there. But, for the life of me I can’t help but make a
mess trying to release this bunch of music that’s been in me all these
years.
The truth is it’s somethin’ I’ve struggled with since I was a mere
child.
One summer I’ll never forget is when what was called a singin’ school
was held at the Baptist Church at Prairieville.
Well, Mama let me go along with my older sister, several cousins and any
of the other young folks, mostly girls, that wanted to take part.
The teacher was this pretty, young lady who later turned out to be a
relative, an aunt I think it was, to the famous Gatlin Brothers, who
came along many years after the singin’ school.
Now she, the teacher, would get up in front of us, open her mouth and
sing like a bird.
And I wanted to do the same thing so bad I could taste it, as great Aunt
Kazie would say.
Another thing our teacher would do was have everybody sing a little
ditty of a thing; along with her, you see.
It went something like dough-ray-me-fose-oh-t or maybe the last word was
mi, I forgot which.
It never made a lick of sense to me, but it really didn’t matter ‘cause
by the time I’d reach the end of it all the others had already got there
and would be singing the whole thing backwards.
And I would be so mixed up I’d flop down on the pew and give up.
That is till I got home. I would then get up in front of the looking
glass and try again. “Dough-ray-me-foss” over and over I’d go.
One day my brother, who from the very first let it be known he wasn’t
about to go to no ‘ole singin’ school, anyway he came by and just stood
in the door and stared at me till I went and told Mama to make him go
away.
Well, in spite of everything I kept on going till the last day of the
school. No, I never did learn to sing, but I’m not one to give up.
So if I’m seen movin’ my lips and frownin’ while everybody else is
singing, don’t frown back; I’m doin’ my best to join in.
Or, if I’m smiling with my eyes closed it’s because I’m playin’ like the
lovely sound coming from behind me, or in front of me or maybe sittin’
next to me is really my voice making that beautiful music.
As I was saying, I’m not one to give up. I believe in miracles. One of
these days I’m expecting to bust out singin’. |