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I had just checked out of the school library a book of songs. I ran the seven blocks home from school to show it to Mom.
"Let's sing," I said.
We sat on the floor, squeezed into a little corner in the living room created by a chimney running up an inside wall. Maybe we liked the acoustics or thought if we hid, no one would hear our sorry warbling. My mom and I share a sad love. We love to sing, but we simply can't do it. It's not pretty. It can be downright ugly.
But Mom and I sat in the corner that day, singing our awful best and having a grand time. We didn't care if anyone heard.
I was in t...
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