Milestones

Annie burst into the bar exclaiming, “What IS this place?”

“It’s the best little wine bar you’ve ever stepped foot in, but tonight it’s also a karaoke bar!” came my response.

Without a glance at the menu, she ordered a sauvignon blanc and a song list. Her two friends, obviously indulging Annie’s whim, didn’t even want water.

Annie danced in the heart of the bar. And when she sang, she did so as badly as you might imagine—off-key and off-tempo—and with so much joy we all laughed along.

She told stories, and laughed at her “L.A. friends, who think they’re really something, but they’re missing out,” danced some more, and completely whooped it up. She brought the party.

Before she left she asked for one more song, a special song she sang to her kids as they grew up: Que Será, Será. I smiled, because my mom had sung it to me, too.

I couldn’t have told you Doris Day sang it originally, but I knew the words:

When I was just a little girl
I asked my mother, what will I be
Will I be pretty
Will I be rich
Here’s what she said to me

Que será, será
Whatever will be, will be
The future’s not ours to see
Que será, será
What will be, will be

When Annie got to the third verse, tears filled my eyes:

Now I have children of my own
They ask their mother, what will I be
Will I be handsome
Will I be rich
I tell them tenderly

Que será, será
Whatever will be, will be
The future’s not ours to see
Que será, será
What will be, will be

While I haven’t sung this song to my own children, in my own way I encourage them to have faith, that God knows the plans we don’t. I regularly repeat to them another of my mother’s lessons: “You do your best and let God do the rest.”

What will be, will be…

C19 finished one year at the only college he ever wanted to attend, and it didn’t go the way any of us had hoped. He gave up what he had thought would be his dream major and came home. He’ll work and attend community college as he pursues whatever will be next for him.

Q14 graduated middle school last week. We are so proud of his tenacity, because this so-smart kid can’t seem to figure out how to “do school” well. And yet, he loves school. He enjoys his friends. He adores band. He has a curious intellect and genuinely wants to learn. And learn he does, he just doesn’t perform accordingly. Our frustration increases as no teacher or learning specialist we’ve met so far has been able to determine why, or how to help him.

And yet, these young men are all caught up in the fabulous work of becoming. C19 matured so much in his first year of college. He advocated on his own behalf in several situations. He sought healthy outlets for stress. He joined a sports club and made friends. He determined who he didn’t want to be as much as who he might like to be.

Q14 composed his first piece of music. He went on a nine-day trip to Europe with peers and teachers; and he endured a migraine in a foreign country with as much grace and peace as one could possibly have under the circumstances. And the weekend following graduation he was thrilled to go on his first backpacking trip.

So we sing: que será, será, whatever will be, will be. Because God only knows what will be. And still we trust that these kids, with their gifts and talents and challenges, with their twists and turns on life’s roads, will be just fine.

 

[photo credit: Steve Bartis]

Karaoke

The first time I remember watching karaoke was Cameron Diaz as Kimmie in My Best Friend’s Wedding. It was also the first time I remember seeing Cameron. Cameron, adorable. Cameron singing karaoke, atrocious!

Even though Dermot Mulroney’s character lovingly fawns over his awfully-singing bride(-to-be), I could not understand the attraction of non-singers singing publicly, for applause?

You know what? I am wrong. When Harry Met Sally, one of my favorite movies, came out earlier and had a karaoke scene: Surrey with the Fringe on Top. I hear it in my head every time we pass the cute surrey bikes in Monterey—covered, not fringed.

But Harry and Sally’s karaoke was a party scenario, whereas Cameron sang to a bar full of people. Which is why I’m thinking about this tonight.

I work weekend nights at a wine bar, and last night was our first Friday Night Karaoke. And again, I check myself: watching people sing, for better or for worse, was so fun!

I arrived to our tech guy setting up lights and computers and taping wires to the floor. Our musically-inclined regulars arrived (we might be an unusual little wine bar, with musically-inclined patrons), and ordered their own ‘regulars.’ They got the show rolling. The projector filled the wall with lyrics, visible to anyone strolling down the sidewalk, and our friends sang their hearts out.

I watched from behind the bar as folks looked in from outside, considered, kept walking. And others came in, ordered drinks, and chose the patio (the wall of windows allowed them to see and hear the fun while still enjoying their own conversations). One couple stopped, and his eyes lit up. He swooped in, glanced at the menu, and then confessed: “I wonder if I could just order up a quick karaoke?” He put in his song choice, then ordered a couple of beers, so as not to be ‘that’ guy.

That first song led to many and they made our night. In fact, his first note altered our reality: this guy could sing! Not that every song was perfect, because karaoke, but still.

First, he sang to her because, as he told us, she had had a hard day. Then he sang just because. They sang a duet, then another. He jumped in on other duets. The guy who sold them ice cream down the street stopped in for a couple songs of his own. Our new friend turned the mic stand around and sang to the full bar. He got us all to sing with him. He sang and sang and sang, and we whooped and cheered when he kissed the girl. Folks on the patio picked up their bar tab (not huge, since he was so busy singing) because of the lovely and energetic entertainment he provided.

Eventually the party has to end, right? The crowd dispersed, and our friends went home. But I think I get it. Karaoke is not so much about being good as being on. It’s performance for those who will, and otherwise might not, perform. It’s fun and silly and wonderful and creates community. Sing and the world—or the bar—sings with you.