Day Five

A picture of my favorite memory:

Behold a moment of glory.  The Vassar College Accidentals - the Axies, for short.  On the field at Camden Yards, singing the National Anthem for Cal and the Orioles.  The picture is too tiny to tell, but we're all wearing ballcaps - none of which represent the Orioles or whoever was their opponent that day.  Such was our humor, my a cappella group.  And such was our skill, to be standing there at all.  We were the best group on campus, for most of my time at Vassar.

Though I show you this moment of glory and brag about it, it's not actually my favorite memory.  It's up there, for certain - as are many memories of the Axies.  I could regale you with more tales than the washed-up former high-school quarterback sitting on his La-Z-Boy with a can of Milwaukee's Best propped on the belly it caused...but I think you understand from my analogy just what I think of such regaling.

My favorite memory is from a few weeks before this picture was taken.  It was sophomore year, before the first week of classes, and time for an event everyone anticipated: the A Cappella Preview Concert.  Each group on campus got up, introduced themselves, performed a couple of numbers, and posted a sign-up sheet for auditions.  It was meant for the freshmen, but open to the campus - and the campus came.

This particular year - 2000 - it was the Axies' job to host the concert.  After a brief intro, we got to the serious business.  The Axies live by a simple motto: "Collegiate a cappella is lame." Knowing this kept us from taking ourselves too seriously, but not the music.  The music we approached with consummate professionalism - most former Axies from my era are, in fact, professional performers or composers of one stripe or another.  So when we sang, people listened.

I had a solo, freshman year - well, I had a couple, but the favorite among my friends was my rendition of "You Are the Sunshine of My Life."  I did that song so many times in my first two years that I burned out on it - I retired it before the end of sophomore year, and I can hardly bear to hear Stevie sing it even today.  But it was one we knew inside and out, and we had little time to rehearse after a summer apart from each other, so it was first up on the set list.

That's the backstory, here's the moment.

We stood at the front of a packed room: easily five hundred Vassar kids crammed Birkenstock-to-Abercrombie across the floor and up against the wall, all breathing the same tired oxygen, all focused on us. A familiar feeling of rightness hit me - after too many months away from the stage, I was home.  I smiled at each of my friends in attendance who never missed a concert; their support and their enjoyment fed me.  I caught the eye of a freshman girl I knew from high school - she'd never seemed to think much of me, and I knew her perspective was about to change. The boys behind me hit the intro chords with pitch-perfect synchronicity and my heart rate picked up.  I cocked my famous eyebrow at her, and I smirked.  I stuck my right foot forward, took a deep breath, and leaned into the first notes of the solo as I opened my mouth and I sang.

After five notes, nobody could hear me - because every upperclassman in the audience launched into deafening applause and screams before I finished the first phrase.  It was a thing I'd never experienced before, but the joy of it filled me like the Holy Spirit, like the perfect high.  I had these hundreds of people, right there in the moment with me, caught in a revelation.

Look back at that picture.  Imagine what it must be like, to sing the Star-Spangled Banner at a crowded stadium.  I know that feeling, and its power is tangible; this feeling is better.  This feeling is more intimate.  The audience ends three feet from where I stand; there are friends out there, and friends I'll have the chance to make later.  Is there a headier feeling, than to meet a stranger who recognizes you because of your talent?  I have seduced women, with this performance. Young men will put their name on the list and audition for us because they heard me and saw the crowd's reaction.  (Three joined, that year, one of whom is a good and lasting friend who once credited me with teaching him how to sing. A higher compliment from one of his talent and resume, I've never received.)

So many moments like this, from college - and yet, none were quite like this. So once more, I've cheated: instead of a picture of my favorite moment, you get a picture of a favorite moment, and the story of a closely related moment I cherish more.