I used to hate being tone deaf. Actually, I didn’t know I was until midway through elementary school. I should have guessed. My mother asked me to sing Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer and then laughed; well, I remember that moment. I asked what was wrong and she said, “Oh, nothing.” Yeah, right.

Then in second grade, the music teacher came in and had each child come up and sing back to her the notes she had just sung. I had no idea what was going on. Then it was my turn: the teacher and the kids laughed at me and I didn’t know why. It was awful.

Today I read that a gentleman had written he could only manage to listen to a vinyl record 10 times before being annoyed by this distortion caused by needle meeting vinyl. Heavens to Betsey, it is amazing to me that anyone could pick up something such as that. Frankly, I listen to music for the cheerfulness factor – and the lyrics.

Here’s something that will shock music fanciers: I like The Stein Song by Rudy Vallee as sold by itunes. It is tinny and fuzzy and oh, so great. And I never get annoyed.

Come on, everybody sing . . . and sing ’til the rafters ring.