” I love music. For me, music is morning coffee. It’s mood medicine, it’s pure magic. A good song is like a good meal. I just want to inhale it and then share a bite with someone else.”
– Hoda Kotb
There are two quotes that come to mind that describe the event where I empowered myself to learn something new and that those closest to me doubted I could achieve.
The first quote is, “If you want something you never had; you have to do something you’ve never done.” The second quote states, “You can’t be afraid of people willing to hurt you, cause if you fear life then you will never live.”
I was 11 years old; it was an early unpleasantly chilly Saturday morning when my Vietnamese godparents came to my home.
My godfather was to be Master of Ceremonies for a wedding on the following Sunday afternoon. He wanted to arrange a performance that coincided with his speech, so he requested I sing two songs.
The first song was a Spanish song called Besame Mucho. He also wanted me to learn a traditional love Vietnamese song that described the couple’s courtship. I didn’t know how to speak Vietnamese, but he proudly informed me he had faith that I could learn this song in just one day.
Within a few minutes I started to experience a lot of different emotions. As I listen to all the grownups in the room discussing this decision for me. I am feeling confused as I am hearing the details, anxiety that my parents might agree to it, fear of failing and disappointing everyone if I agree or decline.
I also felt flattered and honored that my godfather believed so much in me that he would ask me to do this for him. My parents said, “She has never performed in public. She can’t do it.”
“I will do it.”, I said.
I assured my father that the song Besame mucho was easier as it was the first song he taught me when I was about five years old.
I grabbed a pencil and a notepad sat down and my godfather began to teach me the lyrics and the melody of the Vietnamese love song he wanted me to sing. He would pronounce each word and I would write the words as I heard them.
I kept my headphones on as I practiced the song all day. I was even singing it in my sleep. I sang this song so much that even my little sister and mom learned it.
Sunday afternoon came quickly. It was time. I walked up to the stage, my entire body trembling, wanting to just disappear, asking myself what was I thinking, as my godfather announced to the couple and guests the treat he had arranged for them.
I closed my eyes, and I opened my mouth to free my heart and soul into that melody my godfather wanted to gift his friends and family.
At the end of the performance the mellifluous applause turned fear into magic.
To this day, I still sing the Vietnamese song I learned as a lullaby to both my children and grandchildren.
