Who sings this?” my grandmother asked as I placed needle on spinning vinyl, bringing to life an aura of music. A soothing and charming voice stirred the heart above a movement of catchy melodies and rhythmic bass. The way the voice careened from lyric to lyric brought the music to life in a story of one’s own soul, striking relevance for all who listened.
“It’s you,” I replied.
“Me?” she questioned. “How could that be me? I don’t even know how to sing.”
“You not only know how to sing, you are—well, were—one of the greatest singers and lyricists of your time.”
My grandmother grumbled. “That’s ridiculous. Don’t you think I would know if I’m a singer or not?” She grumbled again.
“I’m serious, Grandma—that’s really you.”
“Why did you call me ‘Grandma’?” she asked.