Young at Heart but Not Everywhere Else? Perspectives from a Grammy-winning Singer

Last night, I attended a showcase by one of my current female voice students (HN), age 29. I took one of my successful male voice students along, whom I taught from age 10 – 14, the same age as the gal on stage. Also seated on my other side was another female student, age 63, just beginning her musical journey. A wise choice for a healthier brain, body, and spirit.

All of us had different tastes in music while enjoying one commonality: music and community. The beauty of music is that when one learns and pursues it, at any level, whether for a career or a healthy hobby, it opens us up to appreciating the experiences and benefits of something different in our lives. Every time we participate in music, as a listener and especially as performer, it keeps us living creatively and with vitality, forming new neural pathways in the brain.

The Eldest in the Room

I was the eldest in the room, sporting my long silver-grey hair. (I’m blaming Covid for that one.) I felt proud and blessed to be entertained and accompanied by people younger than me. I found fulfillment and belonging. Seeing and hearing my influence in their lives as their music teacher gave me great joy. Once again, I felt myself moving into a different phase of my life, trying to accept it with grace and purpose.

Despite my age, I couldn’t help but reminisce about my many times on stage and in the studio. I desired to return to those times, while simultaneously I was fully aware that that’s never going to happen the same way as it used to. To assuage my longings, I tried to add up how many notes I’ve sung in my life, an impossible task. Perhaps mathematician Ronald Graham could. I’ve put a lot of miles on these vocal cords and am still racking them up, albeit with less intensity. It has kept me young at heart and up-tempo in brain. My lungs are happy too.

My Knowledge and Experience Give Me Purpose

While talking to HN after the show, her young male videographer said to us, with kind intentions, “Oh, you must be her mother.” Flabbergasted at the first time I’ve ever heard anyone say that to me, I quickly recovered, took a step back, and said, “No, not her mother, but thanks.” Now the one with the flabbergasted face, he apologized for making what he thought was a faux pas, as he wandered off, hopping on one foot because the other was stuck in his mouth. I took it as a compliment, though, because I’m old enough to be her grandmother.

Accepting I’m at that vintage age, I’m now adding a new prowess to my purse of purposes, that of Fairy Godmother, as HN has deemed me. Using all my knowledge and experience, I provide guidance and employ the transformative powers of music to enable the young or old, heroes of the tale, to find their happy endings. It gives me some comfort to feel that even in a small way, I’m contributing to making the world a better place.

Shrinking Was Inevitable, But I Refuse to Give Up

I’m still performing as if I were 40 years younger. I refuse to let that go. I just do it differently. I still think I can sing those crazy high notes, but I can’t. It’s bad enough that my six-octave range has shrunk to four, but my once 5’10.5” frame has lost an inch. That was a sad few days when the doctor gave me that news. I was wondering why the bathroom sink kept getting closer.

I’ll keep reinventing myself till the day I die because that’s what keeps me young. Sure, it would be easier to kick back in the TV lounge chair, but I have a new show to put together with my memoir and new album coming out soon. It’s exciting.

I’ll Keep Trying

Yes, it takes me longer to get ready for these things, even though the process is the same. When asked to do a Zoom interview, I now inquire, “Is this on-camera or just audio, because I have to add two whole hours into my schedule to prep my appearance?” What little hair I have left is uncooperative, there are fewer eyelashes to curl, and futzing with those magnetic ones is frustrating.

I have more choices now: light brown eyebrow powder or silver grey. My skin sucks up three layers of creams faster than the most powerful vacuum cleaners, and my brightening powder catches the light just right, as I fear looking like a quasar when viewing my mug in the mirror. Then there’s my unforeseen career as face farmer to the ever-broadening field of white hair (and a few dark stragglers) now growing under my chin. Hand me the Japanese Weeding Sickle, or better yet, pass me the Flame Weeder, please. Whew, now back to doing music – so much more fun.

Let’s Have a Conversation:

What is your story of not giving up, regardless of life transitions? What have you had to come to terms with as you’ve aged?