We grew up hearing my mom singing. “The Sound of Music” album was a constant play for her. I loved hearing her sing – she has a true soprano voice, but she never believed she was a good singer.
She thought the glory belonged to her older brother, Ray. I remember hearing him singing opera as he came down the staircase at the Eade house.
Ray had a booming voice and confidence. He never pursued a career in the arts, but younger brother Vincent did.
Vincent was the lead singer in three popular bands, and I loved listening to the 45s he played on the family record player.
Uncle Vinny visited us when I was a teenager, and I remember him sitting in our driveway, playing his guitar, and singing “Ventura Highway,” much to the delight of the fan-girls on our street.
Mom said all her siblings had beautiful singing voices, a genetic gift from her parents. My grandmother was often asked to sing the Arabic refrains at the Maronite services at the Catholic church.
Our grandfather sang all the time as he went about his duties in the store.
We didn’t know much about one of my mom’s brothers. When we were in elementary school, Marshall died at the young age of 21 from kidney disease.
My grandmother grieved for over 40 years, always wearing black or navy blue, seldom smiling.
A few weeks ago, my cousin, Jimmy, was cleaning out the third floor over the store my grandparents owned. The Standard Store has been in the same location in Olean, N.Y. for over 80 years.
My grandfather had everything in the store anyone could want – yarn, towels, candy, cigarettes, tools, kitchen items, knick-knacks, potholders – and the merchandise was stacked from the floor to the ceiling.
As a result, there’s lot of stuff in the attic. One afternoon, Jimmy found a white box, and written on the outside in my grandfather’s shaky handwriting was “Marshall talks and sings – this is good tape.”
We know no one’s heard those tapes in over 60 years, probably because the family’s grief was so deep, they couldn’t bear to hear Marshall’s voice.
The reel-to-reel tapes were in remarkably good shape, and our cousin Amy put the word out to see if anyone knew how to translate the tapes into a digital format.
Our nephew Adam came to the rescue. He’s a talented musician in Athens, Ga., and he thought he knew someone who could translate the tapes.
Adam was right – Jason Nesmith transferred the audio from the reel-to-reel tapes to a digital format, and Adam made a special trip to our mom’s house to play the audio file for her.
He couldn’t have given my mom a better gift. She heard her brother singing and his voice for the first time in decades.
We were struck by how clear and beautiful Marshall’s voice was, and all of us who watched the unveiling online were so moved as we heard this young voice singing about love and springtime.
Vincent remembered Marshall going into his room and locking the door, playing and recording music for hours. No one, however, knew what a beautiful voice he had until now.
Our family is extremely grateful to Adam and Amy for not giving up and bringing such happiness to our mom and uncles, Vincent and Bobby.
Adam uploaded the recording to YouTube, and I’ve listened to our young uncle’s clear voice so many times, happy, strong and confident. I’m so sad his dreams of singing professionally were unfulfilled.
We wish Mom’s only sister, Beverly, could’ve heard the tapes before she passed away last year.
Like Bev’s daughter, Amy, we’ve chosen to believe there’s an Eade chorus in heaven and, oh, how magnificent they must sound.
This column was originally published in The Fort Bend Herald.