Humming right along

I can't sing. Seriously. I can not sing. Can't carry a tune, need a bucket (insert other colorful phrases to imply tuneless mouthing). I wish I could sing. Oh, I do alright in a crowd where I'm drowned out, but a solo? No, no, no, that would be cruel and unusual punishment for all those present.

I sing along to the radio in my car but only when I'm alone, the volume is loud and the windows are rolled up. I'll take the stares of strangers as they watch me mouth a song's words over seeing them cringe if they could hear me.

I sang to my kids when they were babies. Then they became toddlers and, in the characteristic bluntness of the young, they asked me not to sing to them anymore. My youngest even put his hand over my mouth, emphazing his request. Ouch!

Once upon a time, I think I must have been able to sing decently enough. At least, I think so since I was in choir in jr. high. However, somewhere along the way I lost what ability I had.

Maybe someday I'll take singing lessons and see if I can recover it. Chalk that up as another thing I'd like to do in my retirement years.