Letting My Loud Voice Shine

Loud came naturally to her, and quiet took a lot of work, and if she let down her guard for even one tiny little second the loud would come marching right back in again.... 

Her very loudest voice...was louder than anybody else’s loudest voice – at least, anybody she knew. Most of the time Grace had to sit hard on her loud voice and feel shamed for it, but every now and then a loud voice was called for, and that was Grace’s moment to shine. 
                                                                            From "Don't Let Me Go" by Catherine Ryan Hyde

I understand what young Grace was going through because I too was a naturally (and unnaturally) loud nine-year-old.

It wasn't easy being loud. I spent my childhood with constant reminders from the adults in my life to "lower your voice" and "keep it down."

Being louder than everyone else meant that, even when everyone was talking, I was most likely to be heard.   I also had what I now recognize as a sophisticated, edgy sense of humor, which my parents and teachers mistook as being a "smart aleck."

So I was misunderstood, but always heard. It was enough to give a girl a complex.

For the sake of survival, I learned how to what my father likes to refer to as "modulate" my voice, but like Grace, the loud can march right back in again at any time.

Once in awhile, though, being loud has come in handy.

In ninth grade gym class, where I often stood out but never in a good way, we were once assigned to put together an exercise routine and then demonstrate and teach it to the class. I dutifully developed what I thought was a pretty respectable routine to "I Feel the Earth Move" from Carole King's Tapestry album.

My gym teacher (the same guy who told me that I was the only person he knew who could strike out in kickball) actually liked it. He was particularly impressed with my ability to project my voice while lying flat on my back, and he gave me extra points for that.

While there are a few instances where having a loud voice is not only acceptable but an advantage, the best place I have found to follow my histrionic bliss is on the stage. Here they welcome loud and proud performers - loudness is in fact essential to performing on stage. So, here was my place- whether it was out-and-out shouting they wanted, or a more conversational tone that carried, or a stage whisper, I had it covered.

Currently, I am in rehearsal for the Grapes of Wrath which opens this coming Thursday at Robert Morris University in Moon Township. I am playing the small (but pivotal!) role of Granma Joad.

 I am really enjoying participating in this production for a number of reasons. First of all, it is the stage adaptation of the John Steinbeck classic about the plight of displaced Dust Bowl farmers. A beautiful story and one of my favorite books, it's an honor to be a part of it.

Also, it is the first time my husband (who's playing Grandpa) and I are playing a couple on stage, AND the first time my character dies in a show. All pretty exciting stuff.

Finally, Granma is one loud woman. I have to deliver three of her lines from offstage, and two lying flat on my back when Granma is ill and dying on the Joads' truck (using that practice I got in gym class all those years ago). And I get to let my loud voice shine.