Over the past (almost) year, I have had the privilege of meeting and working with some truly fantastic people. I’ve chatted over drinks with jugglers, instrumentalists, singers and dancers and been touched by so many stories and so many personalities that eventually all but a very special few start to blend into one incredible multi-talented whole. But every so often, there is one who stands out, one who I hope will stay with me from contract to contract, one who deserves mention.
A small amount of context may be necessary here. Guest entertainers come on board for a week at a time only, they do four shows (two that are them solo, and two as part of a variety show), and then they disembark to go to another ship. I can’t help but think it must be a lonely life. It was only on my previous contract that I started to get to know the guest ents as people as opposed to just random names that showed up on the program every so often before disappearing as fast as they had arrived. Since then I’ve gone out of my way to get to know them – as they don’t get to know many people, and they’re usually fascinating. Some of the people that now number among my closest friends I met when they came on as guest ents.
But I said this was about one person in particular, and it is.
This week, one of the guest entertainers on board was a woman by the name of Sherra, and no that isn’t her real name, anyone who reads this knows by now that everyone in these pages goes by a pseudonym, I will not put anyone’s real name out there without their permission, even if I’m praising them. And trust me, I’m definitely praising Sherra.
Sherra is one of those rare people, who decided what she wanted to be late, and stuck to it with a determination that most of us can only admire from afar. She has a voice that by turns bowls you over and then melts your heart before making you burst into laughter (she’s the only one I know who can put Madame Butterfly back to back with My Boy Lollipop and pull it off with what can only be called class). But the truly miraculous thing about Sherra, the thing I really genuinely envy, is this: she’s never had one day of professional vocal training. No one has stood over her and told her to do that note again, that she wasn’t supporting right, that she had too much verbrato, that her projection wasn’t strong enough. She sings because she loves it, and because she wants to pass that joy on to someone else, and trust me, she accomplishes that spectacularly. There’s a presence in Sherra’s singing that I’ve spent years trying to get back – the joy of singing for the love of it, singing from the heart instead of the head.
And on her second show, she did something I could never have predicted, which reached into my heart and brought tears to my eyes.
She sang Dance With My Father.
And you could tell that she wasn’t remotely singing it just for the audience, wherever her family is – and I’ve never had the opportunity to ask her about it – that song was for her dad, and it rings true on so many levels. I’m extremely fortunate, my father is still very much alive, and over the past few years we’ve managed to mend a lot of the rifts that developed between us too soon. But the fact remains that I’m not a little girl anymore, and the part of me that still is, who wishes nothing more than to be small enough to put my feet on top of my dad’s and stumble through a waltz (because my father, bless is soul, does everything but dance), found herself crying…
And thinking… “that is the kind of performer I want to be”
And if Sherra ever reads this, she’ll roll her eyes, and scold me for exaggerating, but I hold to my guns – she deserves every word.
I meet the most amazing people on this job.