The Muse Dances with the Stars

“When I started out, I didn’t have any desire to be an actress or learn how to act. I just wanted to be famous.” Katherine Hepburn

Hello MOMS (Mothers of Musicians.) Do any of you have children that were born with stars in their eyes? All of my children have either deep blue or light hazel eyes. But if you looked deep into them…really deep…you would see stars. Little stars that dance with teasing promises of fame and fortune. Stars that came from the gene pool of their dad, Bill.

Now don’t get me wrong. If you knew me in my younger days, you would have seen a star fleck or two in my eyes. I played the piano, knew a little guitar and loved acting. I had dreams of being on a stage in a distant city somewhere. But Bill’s family had a history of stars that broke through the dream realm and saw some true action. My stars were from recessive genes and Bill’s came from a dominant super gene pool.

Bill’s grandmother must have had irises that were shaped like stars. As a girl of sixteen, she ran away from the safety of her parent’s home in Grosse Pointe, Michigan, to be a singer and dancer on Broadway. She actually did it. She lived the dream only to die before she was twenty years old. His grandfather, her husband, outlived her and lived out his own dream. He was a soloist for a syndicated radio show that ran from coast to coast. Even after he lost his singing voice to laryngitis his musical career didn’t end. He was a song writer, big band musical score arranger and piano bar player in New York. He made a living from his talent until the day he died. Believe me, MOMS, the genes (or stars,) play an important role in the future generations. Have you looked deeply into your child’s eyes lately?

I can’t remember the exact time that my children told me that they were going to be famous. They never really said, “I want to be famous.” It was always that positive, matter of fact statement: “Mom, I’m GOING to be famous one day.” What does a mother say to that?

In order not to crush their fragile egos or deflate their spirits, I would always tip toe around the issue. “You are going to be famous? Well, of course you are famous to your Momma. You will ALWAYS be famous to me.” And with that, I would give them a hug to seal my agreement with their statement and show them that I loved them regardless of whether they became famous or not. I thought that maybe they needed to feel significant.

A year or so went by. I was a witness to hundreds of “shows” put on by the Byrd children, cousins and a few neighborhood rug rats. The kids would beg us to let them stay up a little bit longer so that we could witness the best show they had ever done. Much of it was silly, childhood nonsense, played out on a living room floor and couch. But to them, it was the real thing. They were in their own school of the arts, imitating their parents and the things they saw and heard on TV and the radio. At the end of each production, they would always say, “I told you Mom. We’re going to be famous one day.” I started wondering if they knew something that I did not.

At the time, we lived in Orlando, Florida, forty-five minutes from the Space Coast. Sometimes at sundown, when the sky would go dark, we would all go out in the back yard and lay down on the big trampoline. There, we would gaze up into the heavens and look at the constellations. It was like our dream bed. I would wear my mom’s costume, shorts and a tee shirt. They would wear their super hero pajamas and capes, ballerina tutus and tiaras. On that bed, all dreams were possible.

On special occasions, we could watch the shuttle launches from Cape Canaveral. Even though they were almost an hour away, we could see them from our back yard. They were like miracles, fiery fingers of man sent to touch the hem of God’s heaven. Witnessing these events inspired all of us. If astronauts could ascend into heaven, surely we could attain anything we hoped for. It was like dream fuel and the stars of the sky reflected on the dark pools of my children’s eyes

I’ll never forget the day that Natalie and Stacey were eating a snack in the kitchen. Both of them had on their “dream” costumes, tights and tutus. They were eating strawberry ice cream and it was dripping down their chins onto the sparkly studded stars that spread across their little chests like tiny constellations. “Mom, look at me in the eye,” Natalie said, her command interrupting my mommy business. I went to the table, sat down, grabbed her hand and looked straight into her eyes. Her eyes were dark blue, like an early summer’s evening, when the light hasn’t quite left the Western horizon and there in the corner, I saw a bright evening star, rising to challenge me. “Mom, you don’t believe us do you?” “Believe what?” I innocently asked. “That we are going to be famous!” she sang back to me.

I looked at her and Stacey, and realized that maybe they were privy to something I didn’t know. Maybe they did know something about their future that God hadn’t let me in on. They were talking about THEIR life. Who was I to disagree with them or tell them that I saw them in other occupations that were normal and more, “down to earth.” Maybe they WERE supposed to be famous one day. I didn’t know. Yet, they talked with such conviction that I decided to agree with them, not just to their faces, to make them happy, but in my heart. I thought that if I came into agreement with their destiny as they saw it, then maybe their dreams could become true. “I have decided that I do believe you. You are all going to become famous.”

That is when I became an enabler of dreams. When I came into agreement with their dreams, the muse in me was loosed. John got piano lessons, Natalie, acting lessons, Stacey and Isaaca, dance lessons, Jeremy a set of drums and Cody, the baby, just got to play a little bit longer.

I was truly “dancing with the stars.” Look into your children’s eyes and see what is shining back at you. If you see twinkles winking up at you, don’t ignore them. You just may need to invest in a trampoline and do some star gazing.

My children are much older now and are still in pursuit of their musical career dream. No, they are not yet famous, but still believe that they are going to “make it” in a world where very few do. Maturity brings a more balanced viewpoint. Jeremy told me not long ago that, like Ray Charles, “I never wanted to be famous. I only wanted to be great.” I realize that you don’t have to be famous to be great. Greatness comes from within.

Until next time…Teach your children and Fly them to the Moon!