Stand Up Straight and Sing! Read Online Free Page A

then listen again. When it was time to sing the aria in French in front of my middle school peers, with the school band accompanying my performance, I was excited. I do think that if you can stand up and sing in French in front of an assembly full of middle-schoolers, then you can do just about anything. Can’t you just see the unchecked expressions of boredom on the faces of the boys, most particularly the popular boys who participated in athletics? I took absolutely no notice. Mrs. Sanders was happy, my other teachers were happy, my group of pals supported me, so all was well!
    This kind of recollection reminds me to acknowledge the presence of grace in our lives. I sing and I truly enjoy doing so and have done so practically all of my time here on this earth. I live a blessed life, filled with the sounds of music. I take enormous pleasure in seeing the effect that music can have on the emotions and the spirits of people. It is wonderful to hear from music lovers that they listen to a particular recording on occasions special to them or that they feel a kinship with my music because it has come to mean something important in their lives. I do not take such sentiments for granted. I know that making music that means something to someone else is a privilege.
    I noticed this as a youngster in church on Sunday mornings. The pastor would preach the Gospel, and with every crescendo, the parishioners cried a little louder, their tears flowing freely. I thought there was something very special about being a preacher. I came to understand and to appreciate that this wonderful exchange of energy from person to person is something that is alive. A similar kind of thing happens on the musical stage when we are very lucky.
     
    Widmung  • R OBERT S CHUMANN  • Dedication
    ***
Du meine Seele, du mein Herz,
You, my heart and soul,
Du meine Wonn’, O du mein Schmerz,
You, my happiness and woe,
Du meine Welt, in der ich lebe,
You, the world in which I live,
Mein Himmel du, darin ich schwebe,
The heaven to which I rise,
O du mein Grab, in das hinab ich ewig
You, the deep well into which I place
Meinen Kummer gab.
my troubles.
Du bist die Ruh, du bist der Frieden,
You, the calm and peace,
Du bist vom Himmel mir beschieden,
My gift from above.
Dass du mich liebst, macht mich mir wert,
Your love leads me to value myself,
Dein Blick hat mich vor mir verklärt,
Your glance gives me understanding of myself,
Du hebst mich liebend über mich,
Your love raises me to a greater height,
Mein guter Geist, mein bessres Ich.
My best spirit, my best self.

2
    A Mother’s Joy
    “I WANT TWO WINGS”
     
I want two wings to fly away,
I want two wings, to be at rest.
I want two wings to veil my face,
I want two wings to be at rest.
Lordy, want you help me,
Lordy want you help me to run this race.
     
    It is, perhaps, the scars on my legs that tell the story of sticky hot days in the Georgia sun, playing tag and hide-and-seek in the schoolyards and at home in Augusta or amid the thick stalks of corn on my maternal grandparents’ farm. Those scars tell tales, too, of roller-skating—unsteady, more than a little wobbly—on the L-shaped pavement over at Liberty Baptist Church, and riding bicycles down the bumpy, graveled streets of our neighborhood (our streets were not paved until I was about twelve years old). The scars remind me of those glorious days when the games that boys played together held my sharp attention. I was not at all good at them, but I wished much more to play softball and basketball than partake in the activities and events reserved solely for a girl child of the 1950s. I never learned to sew properly, or crochet or knit. I could never sit still long enough to pick up those skills. None of that was nearly as interesting to me as what was happening on our street, where the boys swathed themselves in fun, adventure, and, above all else, a delicious freedom to just . . . be.
    Of course, I had a mother who, with two rough-and-tumble