Jerry Davich
Bob Modesto did something last month that most of us refuse to do. He faced one of his biggest fears — singing in public.
Not in a drunken stupor at karaoke night in a dive bar. And not at a baseball game during the seventh inning stretch. The 65-year-old grandfather from Valparaiso served as cantor at St. Patrick Catholic Church in Chesterton, where he sang three hymns: “The Bread of Life,” “Alleluia! Sing to Jesus,” and “All Who Hunger Gather Gladly.”
At one point during the Mass, he looked around the church and thought, “What the heck am I doing? I don’t even sing in the shower.”
Late last year, Modesto decided to challenge himself by doing something he had never done before. It started by watching YouTube videos with tutorials on singing, followed by seeking professional assistance from one of the best voice teachers in the business, Modesto says.
“Danette Lashbrook is now one of the heroes in my life,” he said.
Modesto began this journey by taking one lesson a week, then two a week, then three a week. He had no musical experience of any kind. Even as a teenage student at Wirt High School in Gary, he took a music class and dropped it after one session.
“Some people can sing and some cannot,” Modesto said. “I cannot.”
Still, he continued on his journey of musical self-discovery, practicing three times a day for months.
The longtime coach for the women’s tennis squad at Valparaiso University tells his team they must practice their craft, and he felt compelled to practice what he preaches to them. Despite this, doubts crept into his rehearsals. Anxiety swirled through his thoughts.
One week before his solo performance at the church, Modesto wrote on his Facebook page: “I am anxious, nervous and excited about this opportunity. However, I am ready to make my debut.”
Nine months of training gave birth to the experience he both feared and yearned for. On a recent Sunday at Mass, he stood up to face his fears in front of God and fellow parishioners.
“All who hunger, sing together,” he sang. “Jesus Christ is living bread. Come from loneliness and longing. Here in peace we have been fed.”
Modesto sang several times during the service, looking visibly nervous at times but without hesitance.
“It was a great experience,” Modesto said afterward. It made him feel youthful, vulnerable and courageous.
When is the last time you felt those emotions in the same moment?
“I would highly recommend it to everyone, particularly those over 50,” Modesto told me.
It doesn’t have to be singing in church or in public. It could be climbing a sand dune for the first time, or learning a new language, or organizing a local grassroots group.
It could be anything that has caused you fear, leeriness or trepidation. Something that forces you out of your comfort zone.
For me, this would be dancing.
Since my teen years, I’ve avoided dancing in public. It didn’t matter the style of music, only the act of physical self-expression in front of others. Unlike most people, it doesn’t come natural to me. I get in my head so I rarely get onto the dance floor.
Instead, I watch from the wall or my seat or my comfort zone, as I do for my job as a professional observer of life. Every once in a while, like at a wedding reception, I’ll dance to a slow song with my wife. But I never feel completely comfortable.
Four years ago, my wife and I visited Memphis on a vacation trip. We took a stroll down famous Beale Street, where blues music flows like bourbon.
A band was playing outside a bar. I stopped on the sidewalk to record a few seconds for a compilation video of our travels. The band’s singer noticed me and said I should drop some money in the tip jar, which I did.
My wife, who loves to dance, was feeling the vibe of the situation. It was obvious to anyone watching, including a middle-aged man named Keyshawn Henry.
“Dance with her,” he told me. “Life is short … you should dance with her.”
Henry was right. Life is short. I should have danced with her. I missed my opportunity for a romantic dance. But I haven’t forgotten the unsolicited suggestion from a stranger.
Last month at Greek Fest in Schererville, hosted by St. George Greek Orthodox Church, my wife and I watched the John David Daily Band perform on an outdoor stage as we ate dinner. The band was stellar, playing mostly country music I had never heard of. I didn’t care.
During their set, they performed a Chris Stapleton song that prompted many people to hit the dance floor. I looked at my wife enjoying the song and heard the words of Keyshawn Henry in my ear, “Dance with her.”
So I did. It felt awkward at first as strangers watched us. Then it felt perfect as the sunset kissed us. It turned out to be the highlight of my day. Maybe of my summer.
Modesto’s inspiring bucket-list accomplishment will be a highlight of his life.
“I would recommend that everyone take up something new,” he said. “It certainly makes you feel young again.”
Jerry Davich is a columnist at the Times of Northwest Indiana in Munster, where this commentary previously appeared. Contact him at [email protected]. This commentary is distributed by Tribune News Service. Send comments to [email protected].
