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Essentials in
Chapter business
Embarrass a teen for $
...and other good reasons for getting your Singing Valetines program running!
Updated: 5/9/2002 12:00:00 AM
Embarrass a teen for $
By Tovah Burstein,
15-year-old daughter of Sandy Burstein, proud bass
I stood there on the badminton court frozen in my stance. The racket dropped from my hand and I could feel my face turning a lovely shade of tomato red. I could’ve easily been sliced up and put in a salad. The birdie from my badminton game dropped to my feet unnoticed as four tuxedoed men, followed by half my high school, strode into my gym class.
Closing my eyes, I thought back to my morning. My father had given me a ride to school like always, but today it had been different. Today he wasn’t wearing his usual button-up shirt and khaki pants. He wasn’t carrying a million papers and didn’t have his stethoscope tossed on the passenger seat. Today he was all done out in a tux, and I thought I saw a little makeup here and there.
Now he was standing in my gym class with three of his barbershop buddies, each sweet note dancing in the air above my head. I thought to myself "I will never forgive him for this one" as he winked at me and continued his song "Heart of my Heaaaaaart ..."
When he’d finished his serenade, he chuckled to himself as a Polaroid was snapped and a rose presented. Then, just as suddenly as they came, they left, their polished shoes clicking on the cold gym floor. I tried to go back to my badminton game unnoticed, but a million people flocked around me and I was trapped on all sides. I tried to camouflage my face behind my bright red rose, but they attacked.
"Toooooooovahh!!!" someone screeched a distorted form of my name. "Oh my gosh, that was like the cutest thing ever Tov," another girl proclaimed. “Hey Burstein, wasn’t that your dad?” the gym teacher asked. The questions poured out, and I got the nerve to look at the people who’d encircled me.
What I saw amazed me: People looked at me, their faces sticky from falling tears. Guys looked on in awe, and teachers from surrounding classrooms had left their rooms to come hear the end of the song. My song.
I didn’t feel so odd after that, and eventually my gym class returned to their nets and rackets. But the rest of the day I was approached by people about that song. Teachers and students from every grade came up to me to tell me a story about their dad or to tell me how much it touched them to see such a wonderful gift or just to say they thought it was sweet.
I began to feel pretty special and on top of that—I realized it wasn’t just me who got a gift. My father’s singing had touched so many people that day it was amazing. I was proud of my little Polaroid of my father, me, and his barbershop quartet. And quite honored to have their voices ringing off the gym. But I still think I should use this as an opportunity to issue a warning: Dad, just wait till I get you back!
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