When Jim Garraty First Realizes What His Heart’s Been Trying to Tell Him
Long before Jim Garraty ever found the words for what he was feeling, there were moments—small, ordinary, almost forgettable to anyone else—that rearranged something inside him. This is one of the earliest. Not a confession, not a dramatic turning point, just a spring evening in 1981, a crowded high‑school auditorium humming with nerves and show tunes, and a girl in a blue dress who made the world tilt a little when she smiled at him.
Jim would look back on this night and realize that love didn’t arrive with fanfare. It slipped in quietly, somewhere between Mrs. Quincy’s piano chords and the rustle of costumes, in the space where a shy compliment met a shy boy’s heartbeat. Before he knew it, Martina “Marty” Reynaud—new to South Miami High, new to the choir, new to him—had become the reason his hands shook a little more, and his voice steadied a little faster.
What follows is the moment when he first understood that her presence didn’t just calm his nerves. It changed him.
Interlude
South Miami Senior High School Auditorium, May 14, 1981
1 — 6:10 PM: The Last Rehearsal
I stepped into the auditorium of South Miami High School and took in the sight before me. The place was abuzz with activity as the various choral groups prepared for the “Let Us Entertain You” spring concert. I was part of the Boys’ Chorus, dressed in jeans, a t-shirt, and a sailor’s hat, and we were getting ready to rehearse “There’s Nothing Like a Dame.” Mrs. Quincy, our chorus teacher, was playing the piano and giving instructions to us as we practiced our parts.
As I looked around at my fellow singers, I could see that we were all feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness. The concert was only two hours away, and we wanted to make sure that everything went smoothly. Some of us were chatting nervously with each other, while others were pacing back and forth or fidgeting with their clothes. But despite our nerves, there was also a sense of camaraderie and shared purpose – we were all in this together, and we were determined to give it our best shot.
I looked around the auditorium and saw that many of the 350 seats were already taken by members of the other choral groups. They, too, were chattering nervously with each other and fiddling with their clothes, especially the younger students. I could see that they were feeling the same mix of excitement and nervousness that we in the boys’ ensemble were – after all, this was a big night for all of us. But despite their nerves, there was also a sense of camaraderie and shared purpose – we were all here to support each other and put on the best show we could.
For the first-period Boys’ Chorus (aka the Men’s Ensemble) and I, the annual Spring Concert series, starting with the night’s concert and continuing the next day with two more performances – the school’s auditorium couldn’t accommodate the entire 2100-strong student body at once – was the culmination of our exertions for the second half of the school year.
Starting on our second day of class in January of 1981 – the day after I was accepted into the all-boys ensemble – Mrs. Quincy began preparing us for the “Let Us Entertain You” show by having us try a wide selection of songs – mostly show tunes from the movies or stage musicals, although those singers who volunteered for solos were allowed to choose their own numbers.
I can’t remember most of the songs we had to sing in Mrs. Quincy’s class that semester, but “There is Nothing Like a Dame” was one of them. We sang it from the start of the semester until the Spring Concert and boy, did some of us get sick of it. The only other song I remember from that first day was some old sea shanty called I’ll Go No More A-Roving. It was kind of catchy, but Mrs. Quincy didn’t like it much. She said it wasn’t right for us, so she scrapped it and made us learn “Gee, Officer Krupke” from West Side Story instead. That one was fun, at least.
We had three musical numbers to do for the concert, after the Mixed Chorus II class performed their number. They sang “Let Us Entertain You,” which was adapted from a show called Gypsy. I never saw the original show, but they did a good job of it. Our songs were all from different shows. We had to be sailors for “There is Nothing Like a Dame,” then switch to street punks for “Gee, Officer Krupke,” then change again to be nice young gentlemen for a medley from Hello, Dolly. It was both fun and a pain in the neck, let me tell you. Especially for us newbies and sophomores, including some kids who didn’t know what they were doing half the time.
The “Let Us Entertain You” concert, of course, featured other musical numbers performed by the Girls’ (or Women’s) Ensemble and the two mixed choirs (intermediate and advanced), including the finale, a rollicking rendition of ”Honey Bun” from South Pacific. And scattered in between the “big” choral pieces, a few brave souls, mostly juniors and seniors who had more confidence than the newer members, sang songs such as Neil Diamond’s “Love on the Rocks” and Billy Joel’s “Just the Way You Are” as solos.
As a newbie baritone in the Boys’ Choir, though, my role was limited to my part in our segment of the concert, which came early in the show. All I had to do was sing the first two lines of “There is Nothing Like a Dame” – a detail that Mrs. Quincy sprung on me when we did our in-class run through of the song during first period, then sing the “group” bits in “Gee, Officer run-through,” after which all of us would then sing the two-song medley “Hello, Dolly/It Only Takes a Moment” to wrap up our segment of the concert. When we were done, we were to sit in a section of the auditorium close to the stage to support our fellow singers and enjoy the rest of the concert.
I was glad that our segment of the concert came early in the show because I was nervous as hell. I had not sung in front of a large audience before since sixth grade, and I didn’t want to mess up. Especially not on the first song, where I had to sing solo for a few seconds. I knew the words by heart, but I was afraid that my voice would crack or go off-key. Mrs. Quincy had told me that I had a nice baritone voice, and that I should be proud of it. But I wasn’t so sure. I wished she had picked someone else to sing the opening lines of “There is Nothing Like a Dame”. Someone with more experience and confidence. Someone like Jake Gordon or Ryan Gimenez, who were both seniors and had been in the choir for years. They were also singing solos later in the concert, and they seemed to have no problem with it. They were always joking and laughing backstage, while I was sweating and shaking.
As I sat backstage, waiting for our turn to go on stage, I saw Marty Reynaud approaching. She was a tenth grader who sang in the girls’ ensemble, and I had had a crush on her since the first weeks of second semester. Her chestnut hair fell in waves over her shoulders, her hazel eyes sparkled with intelligence and humor, and her cute smile made my heart skip a beat. She was wearing a blue dress that somehow accentuated her eyes, and she looked stunning. She also spoke with a British accent that made her sound sophisticated and charming. Marty had moved to Miami from London over the summer, and she had quickly become popular in school. She was also one of the new members of the girls’ ensemble, and she was going to sing in the group parts of “I’m Gonna Wash That Man Right Out of My Hair” later in the concert.
“Hey,” she said as she reached me. “Are you ready for this?”
I tried to act casual, but I felt my face turn red. “Yeah, sure,” I said. “You?”
Marty shook her head. “No, not really. I’m so nervous. This is my first concert here, and I don’t want to mess up.”
I wanted to hug her and tell her that she was amazing, and that she had nothing to worry about. But I didn’t have the courage to do that. So, I just said, “You’ll do great. You have a beautiful voice, and you’ve practiced a lot. You’ll nail it.”
She smiled and looked at me with gratitude. “Thanks,” she said. “That means a lot coming from you.”
Marty leaned in close and whispered in my ear. “Your voice is really nice. I especially like how you sing “There is Nothing Like a Dame”.” She smiled shyly, then added, “Or, rather, your bit of it.”
I felt a surge of joy and surprise. She liked my voice? She liked how I sang? Did she like me too?
I was about to say something when Mrs. Quincy came over and clapped her hands. “Okay, boys, it’s rehearsal time. Sing now, chat later! Let’s go!”
Marty gave me a quick hug and wished me good luck. Then she ran back to her seat in the auditorium.
I got up and followed the other boys to the stage. As I walked past her seat, I glanced at her and saw her smiling at me.
I smiled back at her, feeling a new sense of confidence in myself.
Moments like this are why I wrote Reunion: Coda—to capture the quiet turning points that shape who we become, long before we realize they’re shaping us. If this glimpse into Jim and Marty’s world resonates with you, the full story waits just a page away.
Come see where their journey leads next in Reunion: Coda.
A Certain Point of View, Too 
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