I stared up at the conductor from my seat out in the audience. I was trying desperately to make out the words emanating from his lips, “Thank … joining … tonight.” The people all around me were talking to me and each other and themlseves, apparently. I listened to what was being whispered into my ear while keeping a close eye on Mr. Mark. He was soon returning the intent look on my face while pointing and applauding.
Oh! He’s pointing at me.
I stood up from my seat being careful not to let it slam closed. I walked up to the edge of the stage, opened my music and took a deep measured breath. I fought against the fear that was threatening to overcome me. I’ve never been much for singing solos accompanied by organs, let alone our Quimby 500 and that thought alone was enough to make me want to run hiding my high notes. I was the first person to sing at that conference. It was my job to start everything out right. Sigh. All you can do is take a deep breath run headlong into that which is terrifying. And I did. We blazed through the piece and when I was finished, I simply walked to my seat. I don’t know if there was any applause. I don’t even know if I sang. I do know that I was terrified of what people might think or not think of my voice.
What a foreign concept for me.
PS – I have a crush on Andrew Hitz, the tuba for the Boston Brass. Also, I may have a crush on all five members of the Boston Brass. Also, I am still listening to Wicked!