On Saturday morning I played my guitar and sang at the Western Wake Farmers’ Market for two solid hours. This was my first gig at the farmers’ market and I have four more already scheduled. It was a blast and next time I’ll even make sure the battery in my guitar works. On Sunday afternoon, during the musical interlude of my Irish dance school’s performance at the Knights of Columbus picnic, I sang/played the Irish song, “Black Velvet Band,” and later the band, Ewes Tree, invited me to sing my old favorite, “The Fields of Athenry.” It was pure awesomeness and I felt so alive after singing impromptu with these guys. Yeah!
While I was getting my set list together for the farmers’ market gig last week (24 songs—mostly memorized!) I remembered I sang “Sunny Came Home” at a farmers’ market in Mt. Pleasant, South Carolina, a few days after Hurricane Dennis hit the coast in the summer of 1999. I lived in Myrtle Beach at the time (two hours north) and I was visiting my parents. While my folks were excited about the tomatoes, I said “hi” to the woman singing and must have asked her if she knew that famous Shawn Colvin song. She said “yes” and invited me to sing as she played guitar; very much like how I got behind the mic with Ewes Tree. “Sunny Came Home” was my favorite song to sing at my weekly karaoke night and of course I knew it by heart. I did the song and felt I did a good job—the farmer’s market lady had a big smile on her face. What a generous soul. But my folks did not. They couldn’t believe I sang in public and within two seconds they ushered me out of that venue like I was a two-year-old who had pooped my pants. Sheeesh. I was 26 at the time.
A few years later, when Daniel was a baby, and I was now estranged from my parents, my brother’s first wife was chatting with me on the phone and brought up the farmers’ market “incident.” Although she wasn’t there, she told me how my parents had told her how embarrassed they were with me and basically what an idiot I was for getting up on a stage and singing. That conversation taught me several things:
- My parents and I are from different planets
- My former sister-in-law was trying hard to curry favor with my parents and I knew it wouldn’t end well for her (it didn’t—they estranged themselves from her after she did a minor slight to them)
- My parents shun authenticity—it scares the hell out of them
That day I sang from my heart without an agenda—now, maybe I was really flat and really sharp in places, but the point was I did it and I wanted to share my voice. I didn’t know if it was going to hit or miss, but I did it anyway. At that moment I remember feeling free and totally in the right place.
The trick to being authentic is to be true to yourself even though others may not like it. The thing that will always hurt me is that when I became more authentic to myself, I lost my parents—I couldn’t have both them and my authenticity. In my twenties my subconscious protected me by telling me to hide anything deep from my parents. I wanted to be a mother and have a career, but I couldn’t tell my parents this. I just felt I would get yelled at or called stupid. I wanted to write professionally, but I didn’t want to hear what they had to say. I wanted to sing or do some kind of art, but I didn’t know how to approach them with these ideas. As a result, my subconscious protected me so much that I numbed myself because I was SO FEARFUL of losing my parents’ love. My creative side and risk-taking side went dark except for finding a new job in another state and for occasionally singing at a karaoke bar.
Then a wonderful thing happened that forced my authenticity. I became pregnant with Daniel at age 29. Keith and I married 14 years ago (Happy Anniversary to us May 22nd!) My parents broke up with me (ostensibly) because they felt I had no class and (truthfully) because I stepped into who I wanted to be. They only wanted to see me as the child they could control and not the authentic woman I was on the way to becoming. They saw a glimpse of her at the farmers’ market and it scared them shitless. Like I said above, it does still hurt that I lost my parents by being authentic, but there’s nowhere else for me to be. I continue to be estranged from them, and yet I forgive them. They gave me a great gift.
What are you doing to be as authentic as possible?
How are you singing from your heart? Are you taking risks? Expressing yourself? Owning your feelings—even the ugly ones? Please share with me below!
Funny you should tell this story today. I had a doctor appointment this morning; I gave my doctor a signed copy of my book. I never expected that she would respond with such enthusiasm. She turned to the back cover and began to read the reviews and asked me about Alice Osborn, the author of Hero’s without Capes. I began to explain when suddenly she remembered that I had mentioned you earlier during one of my visits. She asked, “What did you enjoy most about working with Alice?” Without hesitation my response was – she’s authentic.
It is really sad that your parents are missing out on your beautiful life. I appreciate your courage and authenticity… perhaps someday your parents will too.
Wow, Mable! I love that powerful connection you had with your doctor today–thank you. So glad we’re friends!
I like the authentic Alice. We can’t live our lives the way others attempt to impose their druthers upon us. I learned by writing my memoir that my parents were not perfect, They probably did the best they knew how. Looking back, I see mistakes that I made as a parent, as well. As a visual artist who writes on the side, I paint to please and express my own authenticity — not to please others or to sell paintings, but because I am drawn to gooey paint, pristine paper, and sturdy panels. No one can tell me what, why, how, or when to paint. I will make those decisions, drawing from within.
Thank you, Betty! We certainly can’t live our lives the way others want us to. Perhaps that’s why I love a little known Jimmy Buffett song so much, “We Are the People Our Parents Warned Us About,” which is about being authentic to yourself.
They subconsciously planted those ambitions in our heads.
After writing you my comment, I thought of my hypocrisy — I am doing well with commissions, paintings that match living rooms, etc. Oh, well, I can’t be authentic all the time!
That’s totally okay!
Ah yes, reminds me of when I stepped behind a percussion kit at age 47 and auditioned for a band. I had never had any lessons and family members asked me what the heck I was thinking. I told them I always wanted to try it. When the music started and I began adding beats, I felt so alive! It’s been many years now and I’m still playing with them. As you know, drumming recently became a big part of my business. I’m not going on tour with Santana anytime soon but it’s a blast!
Stay awesome, Dori! Rock on:) Thank you~A
Wonderful blog, Alice. It took a lot of courage to write about your authenticity and your parents’ reaction, even to this day. Good for you. Sometimes we just gotta do what we just gotta do.
Thank you so much, Eleanora! Being authentic sometimes means having that awkward conversation, but what’s the alternative?
James McBride wrote that his sister, Jack, told him, “You have to choose between what the world expects of you and what you want for yourself.” (THE COLOR OF WATER, p. 161)
It took me 50 years to learn and implement that idea. My mother and one of my daughters fought my choice, but eventually they both believed that I made the right decision to leave everything I knew to begin a new life. Perhaps your parents just need more time?
Thank you, Denice! We all have our paths we need to follow. I believe that my mother wished she could stayed authentic to herself (she did some awesome, risky things in her youth), but resented the fact that I did them, especially after getting married and having kids.
It made me sad to read this, Alice. I can relate to it personally. You have so many wonderful talents and gifts that you not only generously share with others, but those people also benefit from them. Your parents are missing out, big time, on many levels. How sad for them. I think you’re very brave to share this authentic story. You are an inspiration, for sure.
Thank you, Janice! After feeling a wave of emotion after writing this piece, I took a deep breath before hitting “publish.” Then did it. Glad to have your comment–we’re all on this wacky ride called life together and might as well stay true to ourselves!
I am at least to the point where my mantra is “Trust yourself”. I repeat it when in doubt. Thanks Alice for this lesson in authenticity! Rock on.
Thank you so much, Nellie! Besides being as authentic as I can, I also take to heart “The Four Agreements” by Don Miguel Ruiz: 1) Be impeccable with your word 2) Don’t take things personally 3) Don’t assume 4) Do your best!