I’m sure there is a sing-a-long gene in my DNA.
My parents met at church camp and I’m sure they sang songs there. On family trips we sang all kinds of songs – The Wheels on the Bus, Erie Canal, I’ve been working on the Railroad and A Bicycle Built for Two. Our Christmas Eve tradition was to sing every carol we knew on the way to church without a repeat.
So it isn’t surprising that as soon as I was old enough, my parents sent me off to resident camp and encouraged me in my desire to learn to play the guitar. My mom would pick my sisters and I up after our two week session and we would sing songs every inch of the 70 miles back to our home. In fact, my brother requested that a family sing-a-long be a part of my parents’ 50th anniversary celebration a few years back because he wanted his young daughters to witness the experience. He knew all our Girl Scout songs just from those car rides. There are now other guitar players in the family so it was quite a memorable event.
My daughter once told her classmates she wanted to marry someone who played guitar and sang. A boy in the class took up the guitar just to romance Brittany. Nothing ever came of it – then – but ten years later, the two of them reconnected and are now married.
I spent a night with them in mid-February. Usually our evenings are spent playing games, but this time, Brittany turned to Danny and asked, “Do you want to jam for my mama?” Danny seemed a bit shy about it so I offered to sit on the sofa and play Yahtzee and not look at them, just listen. Out came the guitar, and the two of them perched on chairs in front of a laptop where they keep their “play lists.” After a half hour or so I came over and joined them.