A Kiss and a Cuddle Read Free Page A

thoughts.  I used to
think that I was a fortunate person who had good luck.  I always tried to
spread good karma by smiling at strangers, giving spare change to the homeless,
and being a caring listener for those in need.  And usually, this good karma
served me well.  Why did I deserve to have my big gig ruined by that arrogant
twit?  Was this a sign that I was not meant to be a singer?  Did I not deserve
it after all?
    I
thought about the series of events that had led me to my current place in life
as an aspiring singer in Denver, Colorado.  I had enjoyed singing as a little
girl, but there was a turning point, when my father left, when I let music
completely envelop my life.  Not in a studious way; I didn’t know how to read
sheet music, nor could I tell you the difference between a treble clef and a
bass clef if I wanted to, but in a natural way.  My mom had bought me a
cassette player with headphones when I was about three years old, and I would
listen to it constantly.  I put them on when I was playing with toys, when I
was outside, when I wanted to daydream, and before I fell asleep at night.  The
songs of my mom’s favorite cassettes from the 60’s and 70’s played endlessly,
and of course, I would sing along.
    My
mom would sing along as well, and we would have a great time together.  She didn’t
realize the extent of my singing talent until she invited friends over to the
house, and they would comment on my singing voice.  “That girl has a knack for
singing.  You had better put her into singing lessons!” they would say. 
Unfortunately, my mom didn’t have the money or the time to put me in singing
lessons, since she had to work full-time to support the two of us.  But as fate
would have it, I didn’t need singing lessons.  When I would perform songs at my
school and for talent shows, the music teachers would proclaim that I had a
“raw, God-given talent” and that I sang with “perfect singing technique.”  I
had no idea of the technicalities behind it, but I had a three octave voice
range and could transition from my chest voice, to my head voice, to falsetto
in a way they said was “as smooth as honey”, and I was only in elementary
school.
    Throughout
the rest of my student life, I joined the choir, sang at music competitions,
and performed in musicals to continue to hone my art-form.  At any moment of
the school day, I would be listening to music through my headphones.  I was a
nice girl, but I was also a shy girl, and music was also my way of coping with
not having many friends.  I was never loud or flirty enough to be popular.  I
wasn’t enough of a genius to hang with the nerdy crowd.  And I definitely
wasn’t athletic enough to be a jock.  But I did have my music.  And I had a
small circle of friends from choir and theatre.  Just enough friends so that I
never had to sit alone at the lunch tables, but I was still shy, and there
wasn’t anybody I really connected to.  Not the way I could connect with Mick
Jagger from The Rolling Stones or Roger Daltrey from The Who.
    During
the summer after high school graduation, I won a singing competition in
Houston, Texas.  My mom had driven me from San Antonio to watch me perform.  She
was always there to watch my performances to support me as I grew up.  No
matter what.  When she was younger, she was a talented ballet dancer with
offers to attend Juilliard in New York after high school.  Dancing was her
dream, and it was all she knew.  She explained to me later that she had
received an even greater gift during the last semester of high school, which
was becoming pregnant with “a lovely baby girl named Rose”.  She and my father
married that summer, and I was born the next February.  She always explained it
to me with the most loving eyes, and even though she told me I was the best
thing that ever happened to her, I wondered if she ever thought of how
different her life would be if she had attended Juilliard.  I was