By Becky Brown
Music has infiltrated my head and my heart. It's not my fault. I was surrounded. It was there in church, at camp, in school, at home, and in the car. It all rubbed off on me and then the music started pouring out of me too.
I write songs to process my angst (and haircuts). I sing to mend the tears in my heart. I sing to put my children to sleep. I sing to bring light to the dark nights of winter. I sing to make the joyful moments a bit brighter. I sing because I can't not sing.
And I blame you. I blame my parents (my dad has an amazing operatic yawn). I blame the band and choir directors of my youth. I blame the sopranos who stood next to me with their stronger voices. I blame the Indigo Girls. The people may come and go, but the music lives on. You can't stop it.
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