Still Dancing in the Living Room

I remember my aunt used to sing a melody to me when I was little.

“A tisket-a-tasket, a brown and yellow basket. I send a letter to my mommy. On the way I dropped it.”

I’ve often said I was a shy kid trying hard to hang on, and my beloved Aunt Pat was the steady hand in a chaotic home.

But Aunt Pat’s rendition of Ella Fitzgerald’s song was soothing for me when she sang it or played it on the large furniture record player of the time.

Years after Aunt Pat sang Ella Fitzgerald’s song, which was one of her favorites, I discovered how to go beyond the boundaries of my comfort zone.

I miss my aunt, and I miss her hummings of the song written by the great Ella Fitzgerald, who became who she became because she chose to sing instead of dance.

That was her freedom.

Of course, Ella had the immense talent, just as my Aunt Pat had enormous love for my sister and me, but there was a moment when it could have all gone south for Ella.

The road to Ella’s fame began one night at the Apollo Theater in Harlem, New York.

Her two friends entered her name for Amateur Night at the Apollo with the original plan that she would dance.

If only things hadn’t played out as they did, and she hadn’t made a fateful decision to switch away from her dance program, who knows what would have become of Ella?

Amateur night was known to have a tough crowd. The audience was quick to boost unknown talent and let a bad act know they should never waste their time with a sub-par performance.

That night, when the world first heard Ella sing, she was 17 years old.

Her father was gone from the start, and her mother died in a car crash when Ella was 15.

After the death of her mother, Ella went to live in Harlem with her aunt, but she was a truant from school, and ended up in reform school, from which she escaped, dancing on street corners to make spare change.

For all intents and purposes, Ella Fitzgerald was on her own.

Right before Ella was to perform her dance, the Edwards Sisters danced and brought down the house.

So much for following their act and dancing.

Of that moment when she saw the audience’s reaction, Ella would say, “I looked and I saw all those people, and I said, ‘Oh my gosh, what am I going to do out here?’”

Ella couldn’t compete with that act.

And so, she changed things up.

She decided to sing, which paid off.

Big time.

The first couple of notes from Ella were shaky, and the crowd made sure it noted its displeasure by laughing and jeering her.

The emcee had to come out to calm things down, but it allowed her the time to regroup.

This time, Ella Fitzgerald found her footing.

She sang one song, then an encore, and won over, at 17 years of age, hundreds of strangers, because she dared to pay attention to what was inside of her—the music to sing.

On November 21, 1934, she won Amateur Night at the Apollo and about $25.

I remember learning of the great Ella Fitzgerald from my aunt, who gave my sister and me the space to be free to sing and dance as children.

That little bit of freedom at a young, impressionable age is likely what fueled so much of what I’ve done as an adult.

I think of my Aunt Pat often.

She was a simple bookkeeper.

She worked at Bohacks Supermarkets back in the day.

Her brother, my dad, worked as a programmer long before the tech bros entered the world stage—and he was very good at it, which he used to his advantage and to the detriment of the people in his life.

I don’t have too many sweet memories from my childhood, but there are exceptions.

One of the memories is my sister’s and my time with Aunt Pat.

She exposed us to the great Ella Fitzgerald and allowed us to push the chairs to the side in the living room (a big no, no) and dance to the music from the record player.

I’m still dancing in the living room.

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