If I Could Sing
Karin Bergquist and break dancers.
That's where it started. Late August, bike ride. I can tell you the exact spot. South Ridge Park in Urbana, making the loop. Some Over the Rhine song came on, and it was good jealousy, not bad. It wasn't, man can she sing, I hate her. It was, man can she sing, I love her. You know. Just wishing I could do like that. Limpid and crystal, soulful and elegant, happy and sad. 'If I could sing.' There it was.
My faulty router kicked back on and suddenly my WiFi had full bars. My soul hummed and sent the signal to the universe that I was open for business. The ironic title was too juicy to resist. I knew I was onto something.
A few days later. Quad Day. Passing by the Floor Lovers break dance club. These guys were tearing it up, man. On a plastic fold-out 10 x 10 floor. I just stood and stared, forever. You're talking to the guy who bought a how-to book on break dancing in 6th grade (pre YouTube). One nice dude insisted on taking my info. For twelve hours, fantasies of a blissful, free, less-white life crackled and electrified me.
Mitch sealed the deal when, passing Joe's Brewery, he said he once saw Angeline 'clear the floor' there during a hip hop number back in the day.
From there, it wrote itself. A bucket-list extra: finding a licit way to include Huckleberry Finn. What self respecting American songwriter hasn't wanted to write him into a song. I could only smile, satisfied that I got one right, at least.
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