Tempus Fugit, or: How I Was ‘Persuaded’ to Sing a Solo at a High School Christmas Concert 40 Years Ago

Photo by Roger Laurence.

Hi there, Dear Reader. It’s late morning here in Lithia, Florida on Tuesday, December 14, 2021. It’s a cool early winter day here in the subtropics. Currently, the temperature is 69˚F (21˚C) under cloudy skies. With humidity at 95% and the wind blowing from the northeast at 9 MPH (14 KM/H), the feels-like temperature is 68˚F (20˚C). It’s going to be a gray and drizzly day; today’s forecast calls for light rain and a high of 81˚F (27˚C). Tonight, skies will be mostly clear, and the low will be 65˚F (18˚C).

 As I grow older – I’ll be 59 in March of 2022 – and look back at my life, I am constantly amazed at the twists and turns that my life has taken so far, especially those events that took place around this time of year.

For instance, in mid-December of 1981, I was “persuaded” by my chorus teacher, Ms. Joan Owen, into singing a solo – Irving Berlin’s “White Christmas” – at the 1981 Holiday Concert in South Miami High’s auditorium.

As I wrote in the Cerebral Palsy Guidance blog several years ago, here’s how that came about:

Every school year, the choral groups worked hard to prepare for two concerts. One was the Winter (or Christmas) Concert in December; the other one was the Spring Concert in April. The advanced singers (I wasn’t one of them.) also went to the countywide competitions in the second half of the year. Thus, unlike members of the varsity sports teams, we singers only had a few chances to shine in front of our fellow Cobras.

As a result, we spent each semester preparing for our limited number of concerts. Usually, Ms. Owen would have us try as many as six or seven different songs per group, then whittle the number down to three or four based on how well we performed them in class.

Most of us, myself included, were content to just sing the songs in the program and not “do” a solo, even though we could earn extra credit if we did. I felt comfortable singing in the relative anonymity of the bass section, but the idea of standing on stage and belting out a song by myself didn’t appeal to me at all.

So as the march of time progressed and the Winter/Christmas Concert loomed nearer on our horizon, I dutifully rehearsed along with the young men and women in our ensemble and left it at that. My philosophy on solos was clear – there was no way on Earth that I would do one.

However, I wasn’t counting on my chorus teacher’s determination to push me out of my comfort zone.

Ms. Owen didn’t threaten, cajole or plead with me to pick a song for a solo performance in the December concert. She had casually asked me once or twice if I was interested in doing so, but I gracefully declined. I was terribly shy, and I also didn’t think I was a good singer on my own.

My teacher, however, wasn’t a woman who took “No” for an answer, and yet she wasn’t going to force me to sing a solo if I didn’t want to. She was a smart teacher, though, and she believed that I could do it. So with great skill and subtlety, Ms. Owen tricked me!

If memory serves, we didn’t have to study music theory or take long written mid-term or final exams in class. We were graded on attendance, conduct, and – of course – how well we learned and performed our assigned repertoire. Sometimes, for purely academic reasons, Ms. Owen would grade us on how well we mastered certain aspects of vocal training.

About a week before the Winter Concert, Ms. Owen turned down the lights in our practice room and turned on a projector. On the wall, we students saw the sheet music for Irving Berlin’s “White Christmas.” As we looked at the notes and lyrics, Ms. Owen sat on the bench behind the Kawai piano in the middle of the room.

“Mr. Diaz,” she said sweetly, using an abbreviated version of my last name, “Would you mind singing the first lines of that song, please?”

I figured this was part of the midterm exam, so I said, “Sure, Ms. Owen.”

I eased into the “singer’s stance” we’d all been taught in class, took a deep breath, then sang the opening lines of “White Christmas” in a passable baritone:

I’m dreaming of a white Christmas

Just like the ones I used to know

I thought that was the extent of it and prepared to go back to my seat in the bass section, but Ms. Owen kept playing the piano. “Please sing the next line, Mr. Diaz.”

I raised my eyebrow quizzically at this, but I did as I was told. I listened to Ms. Owen as she replayed the first line of “White Christmas” on the piano, then I joined in at the start of the second line:

Where the treetops glisten and children listen

To hear sleigh bells in the snow

Ms. Owen stopped playing the piano and scribbled something on her notebook. I sighed with relief. Okay, I thought, that was an easy mid-term exam! Once again, I made my way to my folding chair and silently congratulated myself for not messing up the vocal exercise.

Okay, that was nicely done, Mr. Diaz. I’m putting you down for a solo in next week’s concert.”

Photo Credit: Gene Wrigley/ DeCapello 1982 (South Miami High School Yearbook)

“Whoa!” I thought.

I said that singing “White Christmas” in class was one thing and singing it in front of several hundred spectators was another, but Ms. Owen would have none of it. “You can sing it, Alex,” she said with the quiet but firm authority that the best instructors seem to possess.

“But the concert is only a week away,” I protested even as I felt my resistance begin to weaken.

She saw that I was wracked with self-doubt, so she sweetened the pot, so to speak. “Okay. Here’s what we’ll do. Just sing it during the first assembly. I won’t make you sing it at the other assemblies if you don’t want to. But do it once because I know you can do it.”

My mind reeled as it tried to come up with reasons why singing a solo was a bad idea, but I knew there weren’t any valid ones. “White Christmas” is not a complicated song, it’s within my vocal range, and it is a nice, homey holiday song. And I only had to sing it once. For these reasons, I reluctantly agreed.

As I sat back down on my chair, I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. How in the world, I wondered, do I get myself into these situations?

I did okay, I think, but I think this guy did it better. Much better.

Tune in tomorrow to see how I survived my first concert solo experience!

Author’s Note: I originally wrote this story for Cerebral Palsy Guidance as part of its “Growing Up with Cerebral Palsy” series in the summer of 2016.

Published by Alex Diaz-Granados

Alex Diaz-Granados (1963- ) began writing movie reviews as a staff writer and Entertainment Editor for his high school newspaper in the early 1980s and was the Diversions editor for Miami-Dade Community College, South Campus' student newspaper for one semester. Using his experiences in those publications, Alex has been raving and ranting about the movies online since 2003 at various web sites, including Amazon, Ciao and Epinions. In addition to writing reviews, Alex has written or co-written three films ("A Simple Ad," "Clown 345," and "Ronnie and the Pursuit of the Elusive Bliss") for actor-director Juan Carlos Hernandez. You can find his reviews and essays on his blogs, A Certain Point of View and A Certain Point of View, Too.

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