I'm The New Sinatra

At age 8 I stood at the bus stop (AKA, my parent's driveway). I wore a muddy brown, canvas backpack strapped over my bony shoulders and held an oversized umbrella over my pint-sized skull. It shielded me from the cold November rain that had begun to fall. I waited for Old Yeller to arrive. Normally I would try to imitate the morning bird that would call to me before the sun had fully awoken. Although when it rained, the air was silent. The morning bird doesn't peep, it sleeps. The only thing I heard was the quiet hum and small crackle from the power lines that ran above the trees and connected our neighborhood as one. My sister was sick and was allowed to stay home from school to watch TV. So periodically, my Mom would peer out her bedroom window to make sure I was ok waiting for the bus alone. Dad was busy loading his Thermos of black coffee and some extra tools in his truck for the start of a new workday. With a confused and concerned look on his face, he waved goodbye to me just as he was backing out of the garage. I knew that look well. It was the "what the hell is wrong with you" look he often gave me. Sometimes he verbalized those exact words to me and on other days he just communicated it with his disgusted facial expression and a disapproving shake of his head. As the only son, constant pressure was placed upon me to live up to certain expectations, to be properly molded to his standards.

And here I was, dancing and twirling with my umbrella. Jumping off of a boulder of a rock and flailing my arms in the air in delight. I was singing in the rain! Without a doubt, that is the LAST thing a homophobic father wants to see. But understand, his boy wasn't gay. He was simply happy to be alive and was living in the moment. Ok, it was pretty "fem" of me reflecting back on it, but aren't we all quick to judge at first glance?

I don't remember how I heard it, where I heard it, or even when. I just know that somehow the melody soaked into my soul and the lyrics ingrained into my brain, subconsciously. A finger snap in lieu of a beat and an upside down umbrella handle in lieu of a microphone. An asphalt driveway became my stage and the glow from a soft orange rising sun became my stage lights. And the skittish squirrel that ran by my feet, for him alone I was performing.

"I'm singing in the rain. Just singing in the rain. What a glorious feeling, I'm happy again."

They were the only lyrics I knew and therefore repeated them over and over again. However, in my child-like mind, I was fully convinced that I just came up with the world's greatest song! Yes, I believed I wrote "Singing In The Rain" by Frank Sinatra. I knew nothing about music and certainly didn't know how to write it, but I heard the melody in my head and I had the lyrics down. I was so ecstatic of my new found creation and sheer musical talent that as the bus begin to roll down the road, I took off running back into the house yelling for Mom. "Mom! Mom! I just invented a song! Wanna hear it?" I sang my little heart out for her as she held back a giggle. She smiled at me and said..."Honey, that's really wonderful but that song has already been written. Someone named Frank Sinatra wrote that many years ago. It's considered a classic." My immediate reaction..."Who?" I could't believe someone beat me to my masterpiece! I felt robbed.

Just like that, my dream of being a star and making my family rich were shattered. I think I sulked for about 5 minutes, if that. These days the only time you'll find me singing is alone in my car or in the shower. I do not have a talented singing voice by any means, so naturally I rarely share it. I don't see the point in purposely torturing the public. I either have to be crazy drunk to sing infront of people or crazy in love to act silly and sing something for a girl. The only exception, I will sing for and with my 5-year-old niece...as long as no one is listening.

Water must do something to me when it comes to singing and unknowingly stealing Frank Sinatra's music. At 8 years old I sang in the rain. Now 20 years later I'm back at it again, this time singing in the shower. Yes, this time around I've invented my own version of "I've Got You Under My Skin" by Frank Sinatra. The funny thing is the melody in my head is completely different, even though it still has that same old school, big band sound to it. I swear I didn't realize this was even his song until I got out of the shower and the reality hit me! It's bizarre, especially considering the fact I'm a Frank Sinata fan! Somehow though, his music continues to subconsciously "get under my skin" and the water seems to wash it out of me. I suppose this would make me a mix of Frank Sinatra and Michael Buble? I don't know, but I'm dubbing myself as "The New Sinatra" David Buble.

I now give you the song "I" wrote while sudsing up my nether regions. And yes, the lyrics are in fact original. Now if only you could hear the melody in my head. Hmm, lean in close and maybe I'll hum it to you.

She’s Gotten Under My Skin
by "The New Sinatra" David Buble

She’s gotten under my skin
And I swear I wouldn’t let her in
She’s gotten under my skin
And it starts again
She’s gotten under my skin
She’s got the bluest eyes
She’s gotten under my skin
I feel my temperature rise
She’s gotten under my skin
My palms start to sweat
She’s gotten under my skin
And we’ve barely even met
She’s gotten under my skin
My heart begins to fly
She’s gotten under my skin
And I swear I’ll never know why


Don't worry, I'm keeping my day job.