Singing Seed

I round the corner to my desk this morning and see a small boy staring up at me. Yet another co-worker has brought their small child to work. I wonder only briefly as to what circumstances repeatedly turn our cubicle farm into romper room. All day I can hear the little boy playing with his toys in his mother's work space. Toy trucks clatter along walls while he amends with noise of engines and crashes. What did little boys ever play with before the invention of the car? Oh wait, play is a modern privilege of children.

For most of the day I notice a particular sound rising above the din. The little boy is singing. There was a little girl here a few weeks ago who also couldn't resist the urge to sing. Oh yeah, children sing.

At some point when we were little Dad's tape player was discovered. Our first experiments at sound design began. I remember hearing my own voice for the first time and being amazed at how strange and tinnish it sounded. We'd record and record over recordings until the tape was a layered montage of burps, farts, giggles, goofy noises with an under-tone of singing. I was singing out some nonsense, not even a melody as much as a sustained noise making, and my brother taped it. So there you go. Proof that I, too, was a child that sang.

Next comes the obvious question, when did I stop singing? Probably everyone in this office was a child that sang. So why, as we all proceed through our day, do we not hear discussions carried on in some sustained, melodic speech rather than our regular adult staccato? Who told us to stop singing? When did we out - grow the giggle?

Did some sour faced older sibling tease me out of my singing? Was it having attention called to my behavior on the school bus which announced the unacceptability of this habit? Was it all the times that mom yelled at me to "act right" and "be a young lady"? I seemed to be in constant admonishment to calm down, sit still, act right, ... and my favorite "act like yourself". By my lights I was being myself and my self was not very calm, still or, apparently, right.

Maybe that's what's pushed me in recent years to get back into choir. Practicing is the perfect excuse for singing in the shower or humming as I go down the street. I suppose it's never too late to get your song back.