Karaoke

Recently my youngest son Max and I drove up to northeastern Pennsylvania to spend time with my aunt’s family. I love my aunt to pieces, and I count her kids (my cousins) as close friends. It was a mini family reunion of sorts. When you factor in all the grandkids, the dog, various add-on friends and girlfriends, and the ruckus of summer vacation on a lake while bunking in a nearly hundred-year-old cottage, you’ve got a condensed version of the spectacle of life. Between the cottage’s furnishings which span five generations, the framed photos covering the walls, and ever the hodgepodge of people, the Lake cottage is a scrapbook come alive.

There is never a lack of something to do at the Lake. Obviously, there are water activities, but there’s also a huge shelving unit of board games to choose from, a tall stack of playing cards (because we’re a card playing family), fireman’s picnics in July, blueberry picking in August, walks to Cables general store for penny candy, guitar picking, arts and crafts, constantly flowing conversation, taking it all in at the lake front on a beach chair, fishing off the giant rock called The Rock, munching from the enormously stacked snack table, napping on the glider on the front porch. You get the idea. It’s fabulous.

And then, as if we needed something else to do, this summer we added karaoke.

Karaoke is a Japanese compounded word blended from ‘empty’ and ‘orchestra’. However, at the Lake and specifically this last week, karaoke is now blended from ‘empty’ and ‘talent’. Since I’m very interested in word derivation, I’m proud to report that my performances last week were the pivotal factor in this shift in meaning.

Oh, it was a night of history in the making, it was. We could have watched Pixar’s latest film instead, an option the group was initially toying with, but thank goodness we didn’t. What transpired was a varied show chock full of tunes from the 60’s through the 2020’s. There was folk, rock, country, pop, and even country rap. There was also simply dancing to a tune using a combo of River Dance, hip-hop, and tripping into furniture techniques. Something for everyone.

Now, not to puff my own sail, and according solely to the feedback coming in after the show, it appears that the marquee performances also happened to be the ones I was featured in. I’m a little suspect of the quality of this feedback, especially since one of the performances elicited a sudden collective shift to cellphone screens once it began, and the other elicited what can only be described as guffaws. Nevertheless, speaking of history, it was made.

The first of these marquees was a duo featuring my aunt and me. The song was her idea, and I agreed to sing it based on my memory of how nice it sounded decades ago on the radio. How can you go wrong with a Peter, Paul, and Mary tune (500 Miles)? Their beautiful harmonies, and lovely lyrics—so poignant and meaningful. The two of us got up off the couch and took our position on stage, which was a corner of the room that most of the circle of audience members could see. My cousin started the music and the beautiful idea in our heads of how this would go started to materialize into a unique experience for all. I dare say our voices were on the inaudible side, and our harmony a perfect synthesis of a lifelong lack of training, however it’s a testament to our determination and grit that my son afterwards told me our performance was “pretty bad”. What a great compliment because it could have been much worse. For example, the birds could have started dropping en masse from the trees outside. Pretty bad is pretty good in my book!

The second of these marquees was another duo featuring my cousin’s husband, Anthony, and me. The Journey song Don’t Stop Believing was someone’s idea and a terrific choice because, boy, what an opportunity to showcase what you’ve got. It became clear very quickly that Anthony and I have quite a lot. Anthony is about 10’ tall, give or take, and I’m down closer to the ground, so the duet required real skill on my part to be able to combine singing and not tipping over backwards as I looked up at him. But I always commit to my audience one hundred percent. Anthony, for his part, stole the show with his air guitar solo, with the facial grimace and smooth moves. No one was more impressed than me. Everything looked and sounded so real and so rock and roll. The guffaws I mentioned earlier were a clear indication that we resonated with our people out there. It was such a golden moment. When I asked my son how we did he said, “You guys were good. In a meme sort of way.” Need I say more?

But the thing about karaoke that is remarkable is not so much that it’s an opportunity to jumpstart a music career, as it is a chance to practice vulnerability in a controlled setting. The built-in social contract here is that friends can risk a public failure with the guarantee of it landing onto unconditional acceptance. It’s a valuable tool for personal growth, for both children and adults. Karaoke asks you to stretch a little, or a lot, depending. Performing in front of a group is challenging, and there are plenty of accounts out there of seasoned performers who never shake off the stage jitters completely.

And yet, something else occurred to me after our Karaoke Night had come and gone. I wonder if others assumed as I did, that the ones who were stretching were the performers. What if there was an even bigger challenge being met that night? What if the true performance in our humble Lake cottage was given by the audience? With one singer after another, the folks watching the show gave a special performance of acceptance. They repeatedly showcased their ability to bypass judgment. I can’t put a value on an opportunity to practice receiving each other’s off-key selves with generosity. At karaoke night, this big ask is the very foundation of the event. We watch with love. We listen and make room. Our ears might wince a little, but we applaud with heart, knowing that each of us needs a little of that. The folks taking in the show perform this otherwise tricky move of the self with virtuosity. It’s the music of the soul and it’s so beautiful.

So, I say, let’s jam.