Ain't that America

Tonight I went to the local bar. It was karoake night, and I was pleasantly surprised at the quality of the performances. "Pleasantly" might be too strong of a word; the quality intimidated me, and precluded me from even thinking about singing any songs.

One woman sang Eric Clapton's Tears in Heaven, not a song that I care for. But she sang it well; much better than Clapton, I would have to say. After the song I congratulated her on her excellent performance. It turns out that this was her first day in town. She had moved from Tampa to be closer to her son, who would now only be two hours away. She didn't yet have a job, but hoped that she would get one soon. She told me that she sang the song for him, because he had cancer of the throat. I didn't ask what the prognosis was.