After supper, if we didn’t like what was on the two clear television stations or one fuzzy station, we made music. Great-Aunt Mary played the piano, Dad played the violin, David and I shook tambourines (hand-painted by our great-grandmother), and Mom joined us in singing (me at the top of my lungs) if she wasn’t reading.

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I became familiar with, and grew to love, the real golden oldies, such as Silver Threads Amongst the Gold, When the Moon Shines Down on Pretty Redwing, After the Ball is Over, It’s Three O’clock in the Morning, and my favorite–I’ll be Loving You, Always.

One evening, when I didn’t want to watch television and no one wanted to make music, I decided to read one of Aunt Mary’s books. I was a precocious reader and well into the selected paperback before Mom walked by.

“What are you reading?” she asked.

She and Aunt Mary became flustered as they took Auntie Mame away from me and hid it where I was never able to find it.

Fast forward: David’s and my love of music continued when we got older. David played cornet in our school band and later became a member of the Lake George Operetta Club. I joined our school chorus (open to all students regardless of talent) and promptly threw everyone off key.

Lesson learned: I should have waited about twenty or thirty years to get born so I’d be the right age to star in reality shows. Not the dancing or singing shows, the ones that don’t require any real talent except an exceptional (good or bad) personality.