General Public Can Do Without My Lovely Voice

There are a number of theories as to why some people become sad and depressed during the holiday season but, fortunately, I happen to know the reason why. It’s the debilitating seasonal pressure to sing - aloud - in public.

Frankly, I’m opposed to singing in public unless, in my case, the background music is cranked up loud enough to affect the Richter scale, or I’m standing immediately adjacent to a jackhammer.

It was the “Messiah” that did this to me, one holiday season years ago, back in my high school choir class.

“The ALTO part! I can’t hear the ALTO part!” the choral director shrieked at me as I stood in front of the entire class, part of a lame, altoless quartet of students gathered next to her upright piano.

I was only 16, but I got my first taste of hot flashes and chest pains, and was sweating like Albert Brooks in the movie “Broadcast News.” “Ms. Stokes? Do you know your part?” Lucifer asked. “I’d like you to do it ALONE.”

Actually, I did know my part, but was unable to actually speak on account of the fact that my vocal chords had malfunctioned and concrete had hardened in my jaw joint.

“Ms. Stokes? Cat got your tongue?” Laughter. “All right, from the top. Just the alto part, Ms. Stokes,” she said, her hair turning into snakes.

I’ll skip the details. Let’s just say that there are pivotal moments in all of our lives, moments of transformation, of awakening, of realization. This was such a moment for me, a moment in which I knew that, at the very least, I’d be in psychotherapy for years.

Yeah, yeah, I know. Lots of people like to sing in public. For instance, my sisters wail and croon along with the car radio in such a way that one is tempted to suddenly veer the car off the road, just to get them to stop.

Even my dogs like to sing.

“Why don’t you and one of your dogs audition for the ‘Tonight Show’s‘ New Year’s Eve special?” a friend of mine who worked at NBC asked a few years ago. “They’re going to feature singing dogs and their owners.”

“Will there be paramedics on hand?” I asked.

“Oh, it’d be fun, Lindsey,” she said. “Geez - you’re not still hung up on that high school choral class, are you?”

Let me make a long story short. My dog and I went to the NBC studios for the audition. We went into a very large room filled with several faces you’d recognize and, in front of lights and cameras and executives and aides, I squatted down on a small piece of carpet they’d set out for singing dogs and owners and said, “OK, Tos, sing!”

Silence.

“OK, ready? Sing, Tosca!”

Nothing.

“Are you my good girl? Do you want cookies? Do you want to go to the park later? OK then, let’s sing!”

Zip. Nada. Zero.

Have I spoken about pivotal moments yet? Moments when you know that somehow, for better or worse, your life is going through some momentous transformation?

Again, this was such a moment, notable in that, in the absence of my dog’s willingness to get musical, I decided to encourage her by launching into a human rendition of a dog singing and, make no mistake, the sounds that came out of me were more like the wails of some sort of injured prehistoric beast, trapped on a cold mountain pass.

They almost used that scary piece of videotape on the New Year’s Eve broadcast of the “Tonight Show,” I later heard, ostensibly so that, by comparison, folks everywhere would never have to feel stupid about singing - aloud - in public.

Fa la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la …