Dad’s Voice

“Mom, Mom. He sounds just like John Wayne!”

Charlene, a girl from high school with whom I was visiting, enthusiastically told her mother what she thought about my father’s voice.

Dad was there at her house to pick me up because, for some reason, I was without transportation.

My dad’s voice had always been deep and clear. He was a frequent speaker at AA meetings where he could mesmerize an audience with his story of overcoming addiction.

He also spent a lot of time on CB and ham radio, speaking with that cool voice with folks from all over the world.

And of course, he sounded like John Wayne.

Unfortunately, I did not inherit my dad‘s proclivity for a deep and clear movie star voice.

I spoke with what I concerned a raspy, pathetic, and unclear voice.

There was one time as a teenager when I was working at a fast food joint and we had a roving manager who would come in on the weekends. Danny also worked part-time as a disc jockey. One Saturday at the chicken joint, he stared at me for a minute and said, “Have you thought of radio? You’d be a good fit with that voice.” I thought he was kidding and promptly ignored his advice.

To try to correct my voice, the summer after high school, I had surgery on my vocal cords to eliminate some nodules.

Since then, I’ve attended several speech therapists. The one constant I discovered was that I am a terrible patient, which is a different story but needs to be said.

Regardless, as I’ve sat for speech therapy through the years, I’ve thought of my dad’s, strong, clear, and deep voice. And I’ve wondered why I didn’t inherit his sound.

Eventually, I realized that I’d fallen into the same old trap I’m always telling my family to avoid.

Asking why.

Why did this happen?

Why did that happen?

I’ve learned that the better question is, ‘What.”

What are you going to do about whatever the problem is?

What are you going to do about losing your boyfriend or girlfriend or job or iPhone?

What are you going to do about the situation? Not, why did it happen?

So, instead of asking why I didn’t get my dad’s voice, I eventually started doing something about it.

I’ve spent a good amount of time with some really good voice therapists.

What I’m left with is a voice I can live with. It’s not John Wayne quality or even Cecil Swann quality, but I’m able to communicate in a way that allows me to focus on my intended communication and not the quality of the sound waves emanating from my mouth.

Focus over form.

My stories: https://draft2digital.com/book/?contributor=Paul%20Thomas%20Swann