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Burke learned of "The
Singing Experience," a workshop in Manhattan under the direction
of Linda Amiel Burns, who teaches people with a song in their hearts
to "throw off their fears and self-imposed perfection barriers"
and let it all come out.
"There are no wrong
notes at The Singing Experience," said Burns, who shepherds
her class through four rehearsal sessions that culminate in a live
singing appearance onstage at a New York nightclub. "We are
noncompetitive, supportive and nurturing." Over the past 25
years, Burns has shown the way for thousands of participants to
blossom from being "mice to Ethel Merman," as she likes
to put it.
And so it was that,
on a chill and blustery night when New York City was buffeted by
the gale winds and heavy rains of a Nor'easter, the families and
friends of 17 would-be Mermans crowded into The Triad, a pocket-size
cabaret on West 72nd Street. They cheered on such would-be singing
stars as a proper-looking, tuxedo-clad oral surgeon from Philadelphia
who sang a heartfelt "I've Got You Under My Skin" to his
wife, and a brassy bombshell of a commercial film director who offered
an earthy rendition of "Nobody Does It Like Me."
As for Miller the chanteuse,
she was in her glory, surrounded by friends, family and well-wishers
- not to mention the TV cameras that were filming her for an upcoming
segment of the syndicated show "Life Moments" (noon, WNBC/4).
Miller's husband, whose
travel is limited because he is on kidney dialysis, was hearing
his wife perform outside their home for the first time.
"Sally has volume
and she has a good voice," said Merle Miller, who watched her
proudly from a ringside table. "Whether or not she sings exactly
the right note ... the beauty part of it is she doesn't realize
when she's singing a little bit sharp or flat ... her enthusiasm,
I think, carries the day."
Daughter Deborah and
her husband came in from Boston. She wore her mother's 56-year-old,
navy blue and rhinestone wedding gown to show that her mother never
put much stock in tradition, as if anyone needed convincing.
Deborah's twin, Wendy,
came from Maryland with her husband. Earlier in the day, the couple
had gassed up in the vicinity of the sniper shootings that have
plagued their area recently, then drove north in the storm.
Also present was a man
who had been a close friend of the Miller's son, Terry, who died
of AIDS in 1995. There were friends from the Half Hollow Hills Library,
where Miller produced special programs for many years. Friends from
the Unitarian Universalist Fellowship of Huntington, in which the
Millers are active, and also fellow members of an organization for
parents of lesbians and gays whom the couple befriended when their
son was alive.
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