Friday, March 19, 2010

Mr. Sandman, Take Back Your Dream, The Biggest Hose Nose That I've Ever Seen, Crackers in Bed, He Eats Like A Rabbit and Mr. Sandman That's A Crummy Habit. . .

There's a large [over 100] women's barbershop harmony group based in my town. They're really good, too. Apparently they're the current international champions. They've also been worldwide champs four other times. Here's a picture I grabbed from a different group, the Sweet Adenoids or something from Nashville. It doesn't matter, the groups all look alike: high gloss lips, sixties hair, sequined outfits, toothy smiles, forty-ish faces, flabby arms. Nothing says women's barbershop harmony like sassy, middle-aged women. See how the picture demonstrates to prospective members that you can be short, tall, fat or thin, and there will still be a dress that fits!!!
I thought about joining my town's hot-shit group over twenty years ago, but funny how kids, work, and exhaustion get in the way. However, I'm definitely ready now. Footloose and flabby fancy free. I actually have time to do something besides watch Law and Order re-runs. But I decided that joining that superstar championship group isn't what I had in mind. They're already winners. There's no place else for them to go but down. I wanted a group where I could feel like my half-baked harmonies could make a real contribution. 
      Enough with the laughter, people. I may be no American Idol, but I know about winning singing contests. Do, too. Thanks to me my sorority won Northwestern's small group May Sing competition back in the day, singing the Chordettes' O Baby Mine. I not only sang, but I arranged and directed. Everybody wore bowler derbies, white shirts, bow ties and mustaches. Except me. I came out wearing a barrel. And started it all off -- "O Baby Mine. . ." I also managed to weave the alma mater into the middle of the song, which was an especially excellent suck-up-to-the-judges touch. We won the next year too, singing the Hawaiian war chant. Yep, me again. Directing, Arranging. Singing. I found out that May SIng is now a lip sync competition. That just sucks. 
      Anyway, as luck would have it, I was at an assisted living fair courtesy of the senior center, trolling for candy, cookies, fancy hors d'oeuvres, veggies, chips, dip and a Coke as I pretended to be interested in all the different booths. For some reason, there was a representative from a ladies barbershop group hustling new members. She practically tackled me as I walked by. "You're alive and breathing, why don't you join us!" So I took her card and went to a rehearsal. Based on the amount of white hair, I was one of the youngest there. A couple of people were in wheelchairs. I saw four canes. A few noticeable limps. How could I not join? 
      So, I've made the commitment. I'll find out in a couple of more weeks if I'm invited into the group. Apparently you may be halt or lame, but you have to be able to sing. I wonder who does their choreography?
      Cross your fingers. 


Remo said...

You're still gorgeous, you've got great hair and you can probably sing better than the rest. Plus, those groups are like packs of women in bars - they always need "the pretty one."

I'd say you were a shoe-in but I don't know if Dr. Scholl is a sponsor.

Donna said...

I want to hear you singing with the group, once you're in.

Chris said...

I look forward to the hilarious stories and observations that are bound to come from this venture of yours:)

emmapeelDallas said...

I'm crossing my fingers for you!