Sing Your Song

By Jeff Altman, The Big Game Hunter

I sang with a band when I was in college. I was the weakest link among the performers, but I loved to sing, loved being in front of an audience and I just loved the thrill of performing. This was the 60s, and we were performing at a bar in Manhattan and jumping off the stage and being passed around the dance floor. I look back and laugh about being an unknown and having created what later became known as the mosh pit.

When I graduated from college, I became an adult with all the trappings of needing to be “responsible,” “being an adult” and “growing up.” A little part of my heart closed up as I evolved into becoming a shower singer. You know, someone who sings in the shower, plays percussion on wet thighs and other sundry suggestions of resignation.

My wife told me I couldn’t sing on key (not true) and my son would utter my job title, “DAD” with the sort of pleading annoying voice that told me to be quiet . . . and then he would tell me I couldn’t sing. I wouldn’t stop, but felt myself close up more and more and lock myself in my office, feeling misunderstood and criticized unnecessarily.

Before I go further, I am not a trained singer. I am someone who loves to sing. There is something in me that feels alive when I sing that is closed off when I live my typical life. I missed my youthful joy so much.