Over the years, I’ve been extremely fortunate to have many friends who have been gifted with amazing musical talents. Some famous. Some who should be. I am pleased that many of them have also become my design clients. Here, for your listening pleasure, is a sample of their music.
Today, a young woman strapped into a motorized wheelchair sat waiting in front of the grocery store for a van to pick her up. Her mother stood a little apart from her, watching the rain come down. After a bit, the woman started to sing, a sounding kind of song at first, but then it started to take the shape of a melody. It was one of those haunting voices, deep and rich and sweet. One of the best I have ever heard. She was old and large; her coat was ancient and looked like it had been worn by others before her.
I got to thinking about this voice and the gift of sound. I doubt this woman has ever gotten money for singing, though her church probably benefits from her gift, and I hope the young woman sitting still and unmoving in the chair does, too.
It’s so confusing, listening to better packaged lesser gifts, wondering where the sense of things is, and how much we have lost through lack of recognition or opportunity.
There are the naturals and there are the professionals. Given a choice between the two, I prefer the naturals. They may lack in sophistication and polish, but theirs is the domain of emotion — of passion. And that is what haunts you, enchants you, worries you, and enriches you.
It also gives you sadness, because who knows why they never pursued the talent: Children that needed to be taken care of, food needed to feed them, dreary jobs with meager wages consuming all their life. Leaving them broken and bitter at the end of it, or pleased and content despite of it all.
I’m glad this woman is singing for herself, for the love of singing, and that I was blessed to hear her.