When I was in, probably, fifth or sixth grade, I sang in the youth choir at church – not really because I was any good, but because my mother was the star of the adult choir. We had a choir director named Miss Perkins. She was reasonably attractive with short, dirty-blonde hair. I don’t recall that she was such a vocal talent, but she had been trained, so she was okay to tell us how to sing.
I remember one Wednesday we were assembled in the choir room and she had us doing some prolonged voicings – just holding one note “ahhhhh” – a little higher for a while and then a little lower, and it was rather tiresome; I was getting bored with it. Suddenly, she came down toward me and exclaimed, “Who’s singing harmony?” She looked at me and then at Harold, who was on my left, at the end of the row where we were seated. We gave each other confused looks.
After we both denied to Miss Perkins that we did any such thing, she turned to the group and insisted, “Well, I heard harmonies!”
Now, I am musical. I play guitar, bass, a little piano, Irish tin whistle, enough drums to be embarrassing, and would love to learn flute and mandolin, but deliberately singing vocal harmony is something I understand but would have a tough time trying to do on purpose without a lot of practice. I was bored that day and maybe I let my voice stray, but I don’t remember doing that. Is it possible that I was actually so off-key that my voice had gone to a harmony part? It’s a mystery I’ll never be able to solve, but the possibility is pretty funny.