Star Power
"S
o I was talking to Motty last night. He was saying that Duvy Glatzman, that’s the guy who runs the choir, could use another singer to do some high harmonies.”
Bruchi looked up from the ironing board. She had another four shirts waiting and then she wanted to clean the chicken and peel the potatoes for tomorrow night’s supper. What was this about a choir?
Chaim’s face was flushed. “So he already spoke to Duvy about me, and I’m supposed to send over a recording of myself singing two songs — one fast, one slow. I was thinking that for the fast one, maybe I would do ‘Davenen,’ just it doesn’t go so high, so I’m not sure it shows what I can do. But if for the slow one I picked ‘Nafshi,’ that will probably work. You think you can turn the ringer off while I record?”
“You’re recording yourself singing here? Right now? In the living room?” Bruchi said.
Chaim shrugged. “That’s what Motty said. He said Duvy’s not looking for professional studio sound, he wants to hear the guy singing where he’s comfortable, no shtick. That’s the best way for him to figure out if the voice will work for Kolos. And then, of course, he’ll need to meet me in person. He said the personality is just as important as the voice.”
Bruchi knew that part didn’t worry Chaim. Anyone who met her husband liked him. Her parents had picked up on that early in the shidduch process — every neighbor, every relative, every rebbi or roommate seemed to get a light in their eye and lilt in their voice when asked about Chaim Hirsch. Between his delicate, tenor and twinkling charm, she knew Chaim would be accepted into Duvy Glatzman’s choir in a matter of minutes.
She put down the iron and turned her phone on silent. She closed the blinds too. To Chaim’s raised eyebrows, she explained that they didn’t need a bus or siren interfering with the recording. The part about the neighbors wondering why that nice Hirsch guy was giving a concert in his living room she kept to herself.
“It’s not just chasunahs,” Chaim told her as she slipped the freshly ironed shirt onto a hanger and positioned the next one squarely in the center of the ironing board. “Motty told me that two big singers hired Kolos for backup vocals on their new albums. They’re really getting a name. Now’s the time to get in, he said.”
(Excerpted from Calligraphy, Issue 757)
Oops! We could not locate your form.
RECOMMENDED
RELATED CONTENT
Now Jacob’s pathetic cries were a mockery, and I trembled, my knees pulled tight up to my chin. I could not, would not hold him in my arms and watch him slip away. Not again
“You need to choose to fight this monster or he’ll get the better of you. You can live a happy life, you can break free of this. The first step is to want to get better.”
Wrinkles are an honor when grandchildren count them. He has his four grandchildren from his son Meir. I, as he’s well aware, am a bubby to no one.
Sometimes you need to play nice, and dumb, and keep your insights to yourself. Sometimes you walk away even when you probably should stay. And you never tell people the answer — they need to get it themselves
“It’s your job, to make her smile, to bring her happiness, and a girl like this, she can use it. You’ll know what you have to do. It’s not as easy as you think, but it’s also not so hard.”
What does that feel like, to be at peace with your lot in life, even if that lot is standing at the corner of Kikar Shabbos and Malchei Yisrael on a cool Jerusalem morning, annoying everyone within a ten-mile radius?
