LJ Idol: Blood Harmony

My Bubby both pre and post Holocaust loved to be a part of choirs. She had a gorgeous singing voice and loved to sing. She would sing along to anything with a smile on her face, lost in the melody as if it took her to a far away place. When I picture her in my memories, I think of her with her eyes closed, rocking back and forth, singing holiday songs and prayers.

My Mom and I were not lucky enough to take after my Bubby with her beautiful voice. My mom at least had rhythm and could carry a beat. I can't even even clap in a rhythm with an audience. It never stopped us from bursting into song singing loudly and proudly not worrying who heard us.

When I was in second grade, I joined the school choir. Not because I had a beautiful voice or anything of the sort but because I love to sing. Never mind that I can't carry a tune, never mind that my family would joke every time I sang that the song should be left to the original singer to sing. I sang along to everything I could learn the words to.  I was so proud when I learned the words to Oyfn Pripetchik, a Yiddish song of my Bubby's childhood. I will never forget the pride and happiness on my Bubby's face when my mom and I went to go visit her and I showed off that I knew the words. The three of us hummed the song all that day, connected through the words, a smile in our hearts. I couldn't wait to stand up at school with my choir, just like my Bubby, and sing this wonderfully lovely song for the audience.

A few days before the choir concert, the choir teacher pulled me aside to talk to me. I was confused because I hadn't done anything wrong to be pulled aside. I hadn't said anything mean, done anything that should get me a talking to from a teacher.  The choir teacher bluntly informed me that I did not have a good singing voice but since she couldn't remove kids from choir, she was expecting me to mouth the words so that it looked like I was singing. She walked away expecting the demand to be followed as I stared at her back in shock.

I was devastated. I went home bawling to my Mom who called my Bubby that night livid that someone would dare tell her daughter not to sing especially no choir teacher at a elementary school (and let alone one who she was familiar with because the choir teacher was friends with her best friend), With Bubby in her ear telling her that her granddaughter was going to sing if she wanted to sing and no one was going to tell her otherwise, my mom marched into school the next day to give the Head Rabbi and the choir teacher a piece of her mind.

Needless to say, I stood on that stage at the concert days later, singing to my heart's delight as my Mom and Bubby sat in the audience singing along proudly. To this day, I find myself humming the tune or singing other songs of my childhood, and I smile knowing that my Mom and Bubby made sure that no one could take away my voice, bad singing and all!

Note: This is dedicated to my Mom and Bubby, may they RIP, the two fiercest women I've ever known. This is the song Ofyn Pripetchik, if you'd like to listen:https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jKpbOczt-Q8