Journal of a Living Lady #94

 

Nancy White Kelly

 

In 1991 a man was buried  at Alta Mesa Cemetery, Lot 242,  in Palo Alto, California. He was a singer, a down-to-earth guy. He hailed from my native state of Tennessee and had a mellow voice and a sincere faith.

At the age of four, this boy was singing The Old Rugged Cross at family gatherings. As a teen he took singing lessons. Afterwards he worked for a radio station in Atlanta and then Knoxville. After announcing the attack on Pearl Harbor, the young man immediately joined the US Army Air Corp. He met a secretary at bombardier’s school and married her. After the war, the couple settled in California and he hosted his own TV show which he always ended with a hymn. His name…Tennessee Ernie Ford.

Bless his pea-pickin’ heart. Uncle Ernie didn’t believe you had to wear a black robe to sing hymns. Neither do I.

In fact, my favorite place to sing my heart out is in the shower. A plastic curtain shuts out the world and the forceful water keeps my eyes shut. I can concentrate on the words of such favorites as Amazing Grace or How Great Thou Art.

I am not a great singer, not even a good one, but I can’t help but sing when my heart overflows. The world would be a very silent place if no bird sang except those who sang best.

 I catch myself singing in the oddest places sometimes, not even aware that I am singing aloud. Recently someone asked me in the grocery store why I was singing. Surprised to be caught in the act of public worship, I simply replied with another song: I sing because I’m happy. I sing because I’m free. For his eye is on the sparrow and I know He watches me.

 

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