Dude, I want to be in a band.  Is that too much to ask?  Isn’t anyone out there looking for a singer, a female vocalist?  Does it matter if I’m middle aged, with a husband, four daughters, and a house in the suburbs?  I’d hope not.

Singing in a garage band is still on my to do list.  Anybody?  Tapping the mic here—Hello?  Anybody out there?  Seriously, I can sing.  I’m not big on the rocking out part, but I can sound like a pretty decent combo of Sheryl Crow and the Dixie Chicks if I feel like it.  And I feel like it plenty around the house, and driving in the car.  My family is tired of hearing me belt it out over the radio, I need a bigger gig.  Or any gig really.  Heck, even practicing in someone’s garage is fine with me.

Back in ‘the day’, I was actually in a band, a top 40 group.  This was way back in the early 80’s, when practice pretty much consisted of me singing Pat Benatar’s Hit me with Your Best Shot - over, and over, and over.  Mind you, this was long before the internet, and Craigslist - I actually had to answer a classified ad in the newspaper, which I did.  Dragging my sister across town for the audition, I was dreaming big.  A sea of sold out stadiums, tricked out tour buses, legions of fans swirled through my mind.

When we finally arrived at the audition address, after all that big time dreaming, I think my sister said something to the effect of, ‘Hey - is this the right place?  Are you sure?’  I was most definitely sure, and we purposefully made our way to the apartment door, where I knew my future was no dougbt on the other side. 

I don’t know how or why, but I was sold on those dudes who needed a singer, who could sound like Pat Benatar, who didn’t mind practicing in the cramped spare bedroom.  I was hired, and practice schedules commenced.  I was the singer.  We had a drummer, a guitar player, and a guy on keyboards.  Some other dude served as manager, and on breaks he’d talk about how we were going to ‘gig on the Holiday Inn circuit.’  Which sounded like a big deal to a young college student.  Gigs were the holy grail.  Bands were cool, and singing lead was awesome.

Week after week, more Pat Benatar, the back bedroom seemed to get a little crowded, the Holiday Inn gigs seemed to be more and more undefined.  Life on the road seemed pretty far away.

And then I think Christmas vacation started, or maybe it was spring break.  I can’t remember now, but there was some reason why we ‘busted up.’  I’d say the name of our group, but I’m not sure we ever even had one.  I just know, for a while, I wore my boots to practice, the mic was working, I was a singer in a band.

So hey—attention musicians—I’m lookin’.  I have some time open in my schedule for practice.  The closer to home, the better.  I need to be home for dinner.

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