Music in My Heart: My Journey with Melody

Four women come on stage. One of them steps up to microphone, and silence falls over the audience. And then the piano player begins. The woman sings in a deep, soulful voice. “Why should I feel discouraged?” She shakes her finger as she sings. “No, no, no… Why should the shadows come?” People in the audience start to clap. Melody and I turned to face each other. We know the song. My grandma taught it to me. My fingers tap out the notes on my lap as the refrain begins.

The other women begin singing backup. All around the room, the crowd sways in time to the music. When we first got here, I was afraid that listening to this kind of music without Grammy would make me sad. But it actually makes me feel like she’s beside me.

When the song ends, Big Momma and Miss Dorothy stand up and applaud, so Melody and I jump up, too. I whisper to Melody that it was beautiful. The lead singer laughs and bows her head, sweat glistening on her forehead. Then, she nods at the guitar player, and they begin again.

Each song is more incredible than the last. I don’t know them all, but I want to. After about five or six songs, a man steps on stage and the crowd cheers. Miss Dorothy whispers that’s Al, Josephine’s husband. He’s the owner of the performance hall. He raises his hands to quiet the crowd and thanks us for coming out. He says that this will be the last performance here. On Monday, the city will begin turning this old building into a new paved parking lot.

Melody whirls around to face me. But Big Momma and Miss Dorothy don’t seem surprised. They must’ve known already.

During the next break, Big Momma explains that it’s part of Detroit’s “urban renewal” project. Sometimes, the city’s leaders decide to build a new freeway or a parking lot, and they tear down the old businesses that we love. And our homes, too. Al and Josephine live in the apartment upstairs. Urban renewal seems to hit colored folks’ homes and businesses the hardest.

Melody sighs and says that they talked about urban renewal at the last Junior Block club meeting. When homes are torn down, sometimes beautiful gardens are ruined. Big Momma pats Melody’s hand and says that what’s important to us isn’t always what’s important to others. Like music. Remember what she told Melody about the part of Detroit called Paradise Valley? Some of the finest musicians performed there, but the city wanted to build a freeway, so they bulldozed Paradise Valley to make room. Miss Dorothy shakes her hand and says she remembers seeing Ella Fitzgerald perform at the Forest Club. There were so many clubs, and restaurants and hotels, too, almost all of them owned by colored people. It was like we had our own city within a city.

A knot forms in my stomach. The last time I felt this way was my mom said we wouldn’t have guitars for music class. Why don’t people care about music? Or gardens? Or peoples’ businesses? I want to holler. I wish I could do something.

Then, Josephine pulls up a chair and asks why we look so sad. We’re not worrying about them, are we? Big Momma forces a smile and says that Al and Josephine are going to land on their feet. But they’re losing their home. Where will they go? Josephine says they’re moving in with their daughter for a while. They’ll spend some time with their grandbabies. Then, a shadow passes over her face, and she says that she thinks Al will miss the old piano the most.

I ask if they plan on taking it with them. It’s hard to imagine leaving a piano behind. Josephine says it’s not worth the money to move it. The old keys are sticky. But it’s the first time that they’ll be without a piano, at least until they can afford a new one. She shakes her head and then says that they’ll start over. They always do.

I can tell that Josephine’s heart hurts. Suddenly, I wish I could talk to Dad. As a politician, he makes decisions about things that affect my hometown, and people listen to him. He would be able to help Al and Josephine save the performance hall. But then, I remember where I am: Detroit, 1964. Dad isn’t here. But is there something else that I can do?

When we get back to her house, Big Momma makes a bed for me on the couch and another on the rug for Melody. Melody and I are having a Saturday night sleepover. But as Big Momma turns out the lights, Melody seems sad and far away. She whispers that she wishes we could help Auntie Josephine and Uncle Al save the performance hall. She loves music as much as I do.

That night, I have weird dreams. I dream that I am performing on stage of the hall with my new guitar, and I don’t feel nervous. But then the front door opens and cars start zooming into the room as if a freeway was running right through it. And as the last car passes by, I glance down and realize my guitar is gone.

When I wake up, Melody is awake, too. She admits she didn’t get much sleep last night, and I agree. I’m so worried about the performance. Melody nods that says we should talk to Yvonne. She’ll know what to do.

But just then, Big Momma bursts through the kitchen door with a towel over her shoulder. She says we should have some breakfast before church. Melody nods as another yawn sneaks up on her. Big Momma leans over to put her hand on Melody’s forehead. Melody says that we didn’t sleep well. We were worrying about Uncle Al and Auntie Josephine.

Big Momma says that she’s worrying about them, too. But she has an idea that might make us feel better. After church, Melody’s cousin, Val, and her parents are driving to Windsor for the Emancipation Celebration. We can go, too.

I ask what emancipation is. Big Momma says emancipation means freedom, of the slaves in our country and other parts of the world. The Emancipation Celebration is a celebration of our freedom. Melody says it’s in Canada, just across the Detroit River. Because that’s where the Underground Railroad ended and slaves from the south found freedom. There’s going to be a giant parade, plus a pet show, a beauty contest, and lots of music. With four choirs performing, Big Momma adds.

Melody turns to me and says it’d be great if I could meet Val. But then the spark fades from her eyes. But if we go, we won’t have time to figure out how to help Uncle Al and Auntie Josephine. I know, I whisper sadly.