I come from a Germanic family in the gregarious Midwest (Milwaukee) and we sang just about everywhere -- in the car as a family, around the house, at church, in choir, at school, on the street. (I once won a prize for having sung "Henry the Eighth" a record number of times on my way walking to a WOKY event in West Allis.)

After moving to New England, I discovered co-workers didn't want their concentration (or reveries) disturbed by vocalizations, so I stopped singing and cut back on the humming while at work. I've sung loudly on a deserted Gooch's Beach (Kennebunkport, ME) in the rain on Christmas day, scaring only the gulls (herring and Great Black Back...oh, and maybe some big peeps and little peeps). But I found that if one sang on the street, people would cross to the other side and avoid eye contact. Even humming in stores seemed to be frowned upon.

A few years ago when I was being interviewed (as part of the Portsmouth Maritime Folk Festival) by a local reporter who had shown up at the open sing at The Press Room, the reporter waved at the crowd stuffed into the downstairs area all enthusiastically leading songs or at least joining in on the chorus and asked, "Who ARE all these people? How do they know the words?!?" Well, most of them I'd ever seen before at any of our events, and they didn't actually know all the words (although one new sea music enthusiast excitedly sang a song recorded by the Drop Kick Murphys) -- I explained that shantys in particular have choruses that were DESIGNED to be easy to pick up by the crew.

Then I started thinking about it. As a society, we have very few opportunities to sing in public -- singing in the workplace or on the street is frowned upon, singing along at most public performances (save folk) is discouraged. About the only place it's okay is in church (and then carefully scripted). But people LIKE to sing. Sea music especially encourages the audience to join in.

How can we keep from singing?

Linn