Roberta's Voice!

Today while thinking about what to say in this journal, I Thought that I would say more about my life and how I understand it. I should say how I'm trying to understand it. Music makes me cry, I can't remember what song that fraze  is from, but the point is that music makes me feel life. Happy music, sad music, music that is sung especially, because it really does tell a story. I remember listening to my very talented sister outside her music room door. She had a baby grand piano brought up on flight of stairs, in our old Victorian house. I was thrilled to hear the voice that she found while being taught vocal technique by an teacher that took her under her wing. My sister had a voice like the first breeze that tells you that summer had arrived. This is not just cause she is my sister, but because it is true.
Anyone who heard it fell silent to witness the full effect of Robert's voice. In those days it was rare to find talent like hers in the big time except for Marian Anderson. I guess I should tell you that my family is African American. However we are mixed with Irish and French, but none the less, we are black even though my sister had the most beautiful green/gray eyes and reddish brown hair, and the rest of my brothers and sister Myrna have fleshy tan color. Certainly not truly black in color, but black none the less.
Roberta was more brown than the rest of us, and she suffered much teasing from my older brother Eddie.
I can't help but think that her voice came from a deep desire to be beautiful, she was beautiful. A little plump, but not fat even though she thought she was.
The example of beauty for us colored people was Dorothy Dandridge and Lena Horne. Roberta had her own beauty, and she new how to dress. Very classy indeed. My sister really didn't think much of me in those days, but if she thought anything about me, it was that I was an odd boy who listen to her sing outside her door.I was stricken with some strange ailment that would take me away to a place that would frighten  my mother I'm sure. One morning I was sitting at the breakfast table dreading the fact that I had to go to school. I start to talk my mother said, but I was not saying what I thought I was saying.
I thought I was saying " I don't want to go to school". My mother said that I was saying " I don't want to die" Over and over again I was saying I don't want to die.
The next thing I would remember was waking up in a doctor's office, with my mother welcoming me back to consciousness with a mother's warm caring smile. I didn't go to school that day
, but I couldn't go outside and play because of my strange behavior .
My sister Roberta who had been trying to find work was not in a very good mood because someone had told her that it will be hard for her to find a job. It would be hard because she was colored and fat. This was probably true, but she continued to look, but one very difficult day for her was a day that she took her frustration out on me that our mother should put me in a home for crazy people because of my checking out ailment. she could be very mean and said hurtful things sometimes. This particular day she was especially mean saying that I was  schizophrenic and I needed shock therapy. I loved my sister so much and that moment was as good a time as any to tell her how much I loved her. I said" Bobby, I have heard how people say mean things to you and I could say things that would make you cry, but I won't cause I love you you are my sister and I would never want to hurt you". Wow! Where did that come from I was probably eight years old and never new I could talk like that. I was not finished I went on to say" I wish you loved me like that, and even though you don't love me I will always love you you are my sister.
I know she felt bad cause she went crying to her room. After that day she would invite me into her music room where I would listen in amazement to that pure sweet soprano.
At this point I will say that I will continue telling you things that stand out in my mind. I my not get the time line correct, but these are my true and honest memories and I will try my best to put down in words, when things happened.

It seems like this story could turn into a book. So I will continue as though I am writing an auto biography, with commercials now and then form my sponsor the "American Gift Resource" where you can support my efforts in writing my shopping at the "American Gift Resource".