by Kathy Philpott

Created on: June 02, 2010   Last Updated: June 16, 2010

Singing is my passion.  According to my Father, I sang before I learned to talk.  When I heard a song I liked, I could remember the lyrics and melody as though I had been singing it all my life.

Singing in church with my father introduced me to the technical part of singing.  With the simple songs in the hymnal, he taught me to read music and each individual vocal line.  He would challenge me to sing the alto, tenor or soprano line and he would always sing the bass line.  The depth and resonance of his voice was remarkable.  We had an uncanny blend.

My musical abilities blossomed as I got older.  I won a full scholarship to a local University.  In school, I was able to fine tune my talents.

For thirty five years, I made a living as a professional entertainer.  Working mainly as a musical theater performer, I developed my singing abilities.  My vocal range was impressive and my pitch was precise.  I worked steadily and found myself in demand.  This was my measure of success. 

In 1999, a producer and musical director from a cruise ship line saw me in a show and offered me a full time position as a singer. Without hesitation, I accepted.  The cruise ship was based out of New Orleans.  I did five shows a week including my own one woman show.  During this time, I felt like a celebrity.  I played during the day and sang at night.  The company flew me to where ever the boat was waiting for me after my weeks off.  It was a grand life.  It was a dream cometrue.  Some nights while I was singing on stage, I could see the lights on shore shimmer as we passed by and I marveled at how lucky I was to be doing what I loved in such a magical setting. The boat made its way up the Mississippi as far as St. Paul with seven to nine day cruises.  We made our way back down river during the fall.  The scenery and the little towns along the way were something out of a fairy tale.  Each town had a unique charm.  Each day was a new adventure.

Without much warning, my father became ill, and I left my dream job on the boat.  I moved to be with him.  I knew once I left the boat, I would not be back.  At fifty four years of age, my professional singing days were winding down.  With this knowledge, I still made the choice to go.

My father was living in a nursing home.  He was still mentally sharp, but had just given up on life.  I found a retail job close to his facility and I made sure I saw him every day either before or after work. 

After one especially discouraging day at work, I stopped by to see my Dad.  I sat on his bed and I could tell he was feeling especially introspective.  He told me about his favorite memory of me.  It was about us singing together in church.

As we sat together in the twilight of that late summer evening, we sang once more.  We sang his favorite hymn, Lead Kindly Light. 

“Lead kindly light, amid encircling gloom

Lead thou me on.

The night is dark and I am far from home.

Lead thou me on.”

His voice was still rich and full.  His pitch was perfect.  Of course, he sang the bass line, I sang the melody.   We still sounded  good together. 

Singing has enriched my life.  It has been a vital part of my calling.  The saying “sing like no one is listening” has special meaning for me now.

I may not be singing on the boat, but I sing whenever the opportunity presents itself.   My car solos are especially beautiful.  No one is listening, but somewhere close; my father is singing the bass line.

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