As one whose narrow vocal career has been spent singing primarily to the back of people’s heads while robed in a big black sack and non-distracting shoes, the shift to performing face-to-face and up close in something alluring, with all the words in my head and not on a piece of sheet music in my hand, has presented several challenges.

Patter writing has created similar trials. Although I enjoy a quick wit and a sharp punch line, quiet work in my basement office seldom offers the opportunity to entertain more than my dog. Besides, in a church setting, the patter is written for you, and, while the Bible contains its share of racy stories, Sunday morning readings are generally not intended to engender raucous laughter and naughty asides. The ascent to our final performance on Saturday night was going to require all the strength of character and purpose I could muster. Sadly, on Thursday morning, my reserves of wit and will were virtually depleted. The photo above from the morning’s rehearsal captures well how far away I’d drifted.

Our group met at 9 with our faculty advisors. (Although church singing had not prepared me for many of the conference challenges, I was at least prepared for early morning vocalizing!) We ran the show through once and then split up, with the faculty consulting amongst themselves in another room as we students rehashed the song order to achieve a tighter program. The faculty returned with their recommendations, suggesting we move some of the songs and advising other overall song changes to better underscore the theme. Their ideas were brilliant, suiting the performers and creating a more cohesive flow.

I was moved to #2. Although I was still going to sing I Want to Be Bad, I was asked to add a second chorus. Precisely when I was going to have a copy of the words to that second chorus was a bit of a mystery. Still, it sounded as if the new lyrics would punch the piece up a bit and liberate it (and me) from the rather dated and ho-hum 1920’s banter. Besides, anything that put such a deliciously wicked smile on the face of the adorable George Hall could not be refused. I agreed to give it my best shot.

Faith & Pam noted that they had plans for my hair, props, posture and gestures. With such champs to lead the way, who could have any doubts? Nobody, right? Nobody except, perhaps, me. If the entire course was cabaret immersion, the next 51 hours would be, at times, like near-drowning. Although a stimulating and supportive one-on-one with Faith and the opportunity to observe brilliant performances by Jason Graae and Sharon McNight kept me afloat, treading water waiting for the missing lyrics was wearing me down, especially as the opportunity to wrap up an arrangement with the supremely talented Shelly Markham depended on knowing the words I would sing.

Thankfully, Erv tossed me a life saver when he encouraged me to re-cycle a bit of patter I’d written for my audition. It was, apparently, too funny not to use again. Another buoy was tossed in my direction when Sharon McNight made an amusing aside in the bar after her Thursday night show. Suddenly the lights came on, and I could see a way through the patter, connecting from the performer before me through my number.

The lyrics arrived at 8.30 on Friday morning, and George gleefully dictated them to me over breakfast, delighted that they were both saucy and verging on the politically incorrect – fabulous! At last, the old fighting spirit that had propelled me literally around the world in my crazy life’s many manifestations awoke with a surprised start. “Where the hell have you been?,” I thought, but there was no time for idle conversation.

I repeated the lyrics over and over during our 3 hour image consultation, when, as a group, we decided which of our costumes would be best for the show. The one-on-ones continued Friday and Saturday, with George, Mark, Shelly, Pam & Tovah each imparting wonderfully helpful advice about the business and perspectives on what would work well for me in general in the future and, in particular, for the final performance. Although some of the ideas were conflicting at the edges, the general thrust was consistent and I was able to develop a sense of how to interpret the piece and the new lyrics. Mark, in particular, saved me from humiliation by suggesting I repeat the lyrics as quickly as possible, as a robot would say them…over and over and over. Wherever I went for the rest of the day, I repeated the words again and again. (In the final moments before going on stage, it was that exercise that allowed me to call up a line that had slipped almost entirely from my mind…and it wasn’t even a line from the new lyrics!)

Friday night’s performances were from Sally Mayes and Faith Prince. We were treated to another round of mind-bogglingly inspired work from which we could learn and grow. At the intermission and on the walk home, I was drilling lyrics…and they were drilling holes in my head.

When the final tech rehearsal came on Saturday afternoon, we each had time to run our entire patter and song once. Faith put me on the elevator and took me down to one of the dressing rooms and there, in 15 minutes, I had the master class of a lifetime from one of the stage’s truly outstanding luminaries. Using Faith’s sun glasses as a microphone and staring into the wall mirror, I followed her lead as she mapped out when the hair would come down, what would happen to the chignon clip (wouldn’t you like to know?), how the hands would go down and then back up and where I’d go when I took the mic from the stand and made my move to the audience. Would it have been nice to have come up with all of that myself? Yes. Could I have ever come up with all that myself? No. Like a baby learning to speak, I was learning the language of non-verbal communication. I identified what I could do and did it. After Faith left the dressing room, I did it over and over again into the mirror and, when I saw there was only an hour and one-half left to get ready, I went and bought a fabulous necklace, some earrings, a curling iron and “Foxy Lady” nail polish…maybe a bit of method acting would help in a pinch!

I won’t rehash the actual performance except to say I’ll post the video when I get it and can figure out how to put it up. I’m only sorry I don’t have one to show how far I came to get to that point.

To my classmates and the faculty, I extend my sincere and heart-felt appreciation for stretching me further than I believed I could ever stretch and returning me younger, funnier and happier than I’ve been in a long time. To everyone supporting me at home and virtually, my gratitude to you is limitless.

On the 14 hour drive home, GT graciously left me to decompress as I sketched out plans for a show. With the help of the gifted Mark Burnell, whom we are blessed to have here in Chicago, I’ll be pulling it together as soon as is sensible.

HOLD ON! There is nothing remotely sensible about this business. It is the glory of risk-taking embraced at every turn, even if it means leaving yourself behind, that yields a harvest of joy. If only I could do it all again…and I will…and I hope you’ll be there!