Most of you know that my wife, Gigi, sings beautifully. She has an extraordinarily beautiful voice and I love to hear her sing. Most of you don’t know that my voice is not so extraordinary because you’ve never heard me sing. There is a good reason for that. Take my word for it. Please.
But I love to sing. I really love to sing in the car. If Barry Manilow or Air Supply comes on some radio station, watch out! I’m giving it all I’ve got! Even when Gigi is in the car with me. Bless her heart, she tolerates me. I should be glad she doesn’t laugh us right off the road every time this happens. She is very gracious. Here is my problem: She doesn’t share.
In my mind, when we sing any number of duets that come on the radio, I want her to sing her part and me to sing mine. My car is the only stage I get to perform on without having tomatoes flung at my substantial cranium and I want it to be perfect!
Such was the case last evening as we drove to dinner. Somewhere Out There happened to be on the XM channel we were listening to. I love that song! The song opens with Linda Ronstadt singing and then James Ingram comes in with his part. I let Gigi sing the Ronstadt part, as she should and might I say that she did so beautifully! When we came to my part and I began to sing, I discovered that what I thought would be my solo, my chance to shine, actually turned out to be a duet. Gigi never missed a beat as she sang right along with me. Not in harmony, but exactly the part that James and I were supposed to be singing alone. Perhaps it’s the nature of one who suffers from OCD as I do, but I couldn’t enjoy the rest of the song knowing that she was singing both parts. This is important stuff, you know?
Anyway, I begrudgingly finished the song without lodging my complaint with her and thankfully there were no more duets for the rest of the time we were in the car. As I finish writing this rather pointless entry, it is occurring to me that she will read this and I will almost certainly pay a price for sharing this with all of you.
I suppose I’m willing to do that for you, though. I will, however, have to insist that if we are ever riding in a car together and Endless Love comes on the radio, that you will let me sing the Lionel Ritchie part alone.