A Singer's Journey

As a child growing up in the Louisiana bayous, I found myself bored and lacking things to do. All there ever was to do was school and church. Sometimes my brother and cousins would go swimming in the bayou or play football in the yard. We were spared going to Wednesday church services, but had to go twice on Sundays. During church, the only part that interested me at all was the singing. It sounded like a bunch of half dead peple singing, except for myself and Kimberly. She and I sang as high as we could to one up each other. She always treated me like crap, but I always told her she was pretty. She was my first crush and the first person I ever hated too. Sunday nights we would sing "specials," which was one person singing for the church. It was the same songs every night by the same people and the songs were played by the same horrible pianist and organist. I actually hated going to church.

When I was 16, I heard On Bended Knee by Boyz II Men and I was hooked. I get their CD and I played it over and over every day. One day, I was listening and thought that I could mimic them. I tried time and time again until I got it right. I tried this on every song on the CD and I knew that I was on to something when Momma told me to turn down my radio. I had my headphones on. I walked up to Momma and said that it was me singing. She made me prove it and the look on her face was priceless. I don't have that same effect on her anymore, but hearing my for 14 years can do that sometimes. I practiced every day with the music until I was able to sing it accapella and then I tried singing other songs in the R&B style that I had adopted. I brought my style to church and no one cared. In fact they saw this as a negative because it sounded too much like "The World's" music. Thank goodness they never heard Flyleaf because they would really have freaked.

I began High School in 97. . .well let me rephrase; I began going to a public High School in 97 at seventeen years old. I knew no one and no one wanted to know me. I just wanted to find a nook in a corner somewhere and hide so no one would stare at me. I found that nook one day at lunch one day. In the back of the room were two doors. The one to the right led to the courtyard and the one to the left led to a hallway which led to the Middle School building. In this hallway were large windows which were cut deeply into the walls creating a windowsill that I could sit on alone. I only ate the Shepherd's Pie in school, which came along only once in a while, so I would spend most of the hour sitting on the windowsill singing. I had no idea that there were other people who stood outside on the stairs by the doble doors leading out of the hallway, so one day I was singing as loud as I always did and I finished a song and looked behind me. All I saw was a group of teenagers that I never met before with dropped jaws in utter disbelief. I suppose now I understand why. An ugly and disfigured white boy singing Boyz II Men like Boyz II Men sang must have been kinda shocking. I suppose they saw mw as a mentally retarded kid because I never spoke in class. Anyway, every day I was asked to sing by the same group, but every day the group got bigger and bigger until I couldn't take it anymore and found a new nook to hide in. It was nice being recognized, but my whole purpose was to be alone.

After that, all anyone ever did was either bully me or ask me to sing so I avoided people completely except for maybe four or five. When I was around others, especially girls, I was always polite and nice to them, which ten years after I graduated, people still remember me for that. I went from church to church singing so I got known as the goodie choir boy. One day, the Principal asked me if I would mind singing The National Anthem at a football game. I agreed. When the announcer gave me the mic after asking everyone to stand, I remember the crowd looking at me asking themselves what this wierd-looking kid was doing with the mic. I began singing to the noise of people talking and I shut them all up completely. After I finished singing, a pindrop could have been heard. The shocked faces of all of those judgemental people said it all. I had arrived in the community as someone who was relevant, but I didn't care. I was accepted and doing something that I was good at; that's what made me happy. I don't remember the people much, I don;t remember what I sounded like, I don't even remember who won that game. All I remember was a feeling something I had never felt before and being instantly addicted to that.

Many games followed and I blew the Anthem out of the water every sngle time, but I started wanting more. I got to sing for my graduation. I asked to sing solo, but when i told my two closest friends they decided that they wanted in too, so I was know as the solo singer, but I had to go out singing with two other people. That was a bitter pill to swallow. I was mad because I had to share my the spotlight that only I had possessed the four years in school. I was the singer. I was the crowd pleaser and I had to share. I'm not bitter about it anymore, but I was mad as I could be back then. I was writing a song about friends and graduating, but my friend decided to make me wrote a verse to a Gospel song which was totally not what I wanted to do. I got through it and decided not to be a singer in college. . .Yeah right. Like that was going to happen. I got drunk and my tequila decided to make me sing kareoke. . .and most of my friends were in that bar!!! I sang, what else, Boyz II Men and I was a celebrity again. Even people I didn't know knew who I was. I was paid $200 and given free alcohol on occasion to sing at Frat parties thrown by a frat that I called Alpha Kiss My Booty. On top of the $400 a week I was clearing writing essays and poems for people, I was making good money and drinking it all away in a weekend. And when Ileft college, I decided that I was only good enough for High School football games.

I forgot when the first time American Idol showed up in Louisiana, but I went after being pushed by my Mom to go. I stood outside in the heat and I waited in that dome until my number was called. On the field there were booths that held 3 judges and I was in the middle of this nerdy looking fat guy and this beautiful blonde. The fat kid looked like he could care less and the blonde was nervous. I encouraged her and held her hand as she sang. For some reason they went from the fat guy to the blonde and skipped me. I don't remember why, but there was a reason. The blonde looked at me and said I would do okay. I sang Back at One by Brian McNight and I remember the whole stadium shutting up. The blonde had tears in her eyes from her nerves and when I sang, she stopped crying and hugged me when I was done. She and I both made it through. The ones the judges chose got an orange paper and were send to the Marriot, I think. The blonde and I stuck together and spoke the whole time. We sang alone and I didn't make it. I had developed a sore throat from practicing and not giving my voice a break. I was crushed.

I continued singing at games when I could and even after I got married I sang when i could. My wife was never there, but at least I had fun. I have been singing at semi-pro football games andI've benn doing well. I loved the reaction that I got the first game afer the Hell of actually being able to sing. It went from "Oh God, a National Anthem." to "Who is this white guy singing like a black guy?" And thank God, after fourteen years of trying, I;ve been named the only singer of The National Anthem of my High School at EVERY football game. That includes the Homecoming Game for my 10 year reunion. I'm so excited.

The reason that I wrote this is because I am a disfigured man who was a disfigured kid who followed his dreams. I may not have become a huge calebrity, but at least I made someone hear me. When people tell me they remember me singing, I just let out a small sigh of relief because I made a difference in someone's life. They remember me for something. And that's all I ever wanted.