Symphony Boyd's Award

I was walking as fast as I could through the dimly lit hallway of the community center. I said to myself, “I sure hope I make it to the bathroom in time.” I was a little irritated by how long our rehearsal had been.

Abigail snatched a little black book off the sink and put it in her pocket as I entered the bathroom. Fortunately, I saw my initials before she stuffed it in her pocket. I wasn’t really sure if she knew I saw my little black book. She said “Heyyy Ms. Symphony” as she washed and dried her hands before leaving the bathroom looking wide eyed like a deer with sweat beading on her forehead.

Her expression led me to believe that she knew I saw my little black book. I hurried so that I could corner her in the lobby. I grew up with Abigail and she knew that I was known for snatching women bald. So it was no surprise when I backed her against the wall and got in her face so close that I'm sure she could smell the garlic on my breath. I raised my fist and was prepared to hit her. In a deep growling voice I said “Give me my book!” She looked around to see if anyone else was in the lobby and hesitated for a few seconds before she threw my little black book on the floor. I yelled “Pick it up and hand it to me!” Looking petrified, she stooped down and picked it up; handed it to me and ran out the community center.

Later that evening as I stood at my bookshelf counting one, two, three, four, five. Finally my fifth book was in it's rightful place again. I had twelve different black books on my shelf one for each month. This book holds a very special place in my heart. I will go even further and say that this book saved my life. If I had not been able to journal when I was sick, homeless and going through other trials tribulations, who knows where I would be? This book is so valuable to me because it is filled with songs I wrote during that season of hardship. I cried many tears on the pages of this book. Most importantly in this book all the copyright information is listed for each song.

As I laid in bed that night thinking about how shocked I was find out that it was Abigail and not Victoria, another soprano, who had stolen my little black book from my purse. Now that I’m thinking about it's been missing since I won 1st place in The Amateur Songwriter’s Contest three years ago.

I don’t have to wonder anymore why Abigail is always singing lead. I know now how Kingston got his hands on my songs. For the last three years musician/songwriter, Kingston Vance, had won the Stella Award for songwriter of the year. Except all three of those songs were written by me. I am so glad I have copyrights for each song. Rumor had it that Kingston had stolen a song from a member of The Moss Community Choir too. No one believed the young whistleblower and since he wasn’t able to prove it he didn’t pursue it.

Kingston Vance was very handsome. He was skilled, gifted, popular and extremely charismatic. He was well know in the Midwest and always in demand. Most Mega Churches and anybody who was anybody wanted him and The Voices of Zion Community Choir. We performed at lots of concerts. We did several live recordings. He was on the payroll of various churches, funeral homes and theaters.

Do I confront him? How do I confront him? Did I give him permission to steal my songs by not speaking up? The feelings and thoughts I had that made me apprehensive about confronting him hunted me. They were the fear and trepidation of being ostracized, critized, kicked out of the group or maybe even black balled from every community choir in the city. These feelings consistently plagued my mind.

I started thinking that I should just be grateful. From our one hundred and fifty voice choir Kingston has hand picked his best two sopranos which included myself, two altos and two tenors. We were given an all expenses paid trip to Hollywood to perform at the Stella Awards.

I began to feel like I should just keep this whole situation to myself. After praying about it for a few days, I came to the conclusion that enough was enough. I had to tell someone that I could genuinely trust. I remembered that my vocal coach favored me. I knew she would take the time to listen. I called Ms. BuShae and made an appointment to see her.

When I walked into her studio, she was still wearing that same old bun at the top of her head except now her hair was fully gray. We went to her office, had a cup of tea while we quickly got caught up on what we both had been doing over the last five years.

“Soooo what’s troubling you?” she asked. I picked up my teacup and took another sip. As I sat the cup back down I stared off to the left admiring a photo hanging on the wall. I said “do you know Kingston Vance?” She said “Yeah most people don’t know this but he's my son.” I said “Your son?” She further explained that when she divorced his father, she started back using her maiden name. I was stunned. I sat there frozen. I started to hyperventilate. I looked at my watch and was talking really fast. I said “I forgot I had another appointment, thank you for your time.” I got up from the chair quickly, grabbed my jacket and knocked my purse to the floor. My lipstick came rolling out, my compact mirror and low and behold my little black book. I bent down and picked up my items one by one. However, when I reached to pick up my little black book, Suddenly I felt a surge of energy, a new confidence and the courage to tell Ms. Bushae that her son was a song thief.

Her jaw dropped, she leaned halfway across the desk and said “This can’t be true!” She waIks around her desk and stood in front of me. With her arms folded she said “Do you have any proof?” I opened my little black book and pointed to my registration numbers from The Library of Congress. That was all the evidence I needed to convince her that I was telling the truth. She reluctedly mentioned that there had been a rumor about Kingston being a song thief. She sincerely apologized and assured me that she would do everything in her power to make things right. I knew that Ms. Bushae was a woman of her word. I left her office feeling hopeful. I prayed a quick prayer for Kingston as the studio door closed behind me.

Three months later as I was getting dressed for our Stella performance it occurred to me that I hadn’t heard from Ms. Bushae. At this point it didn’t really matter to me as much as I thought it would. I had my little black book with me as if it was an accessory to my outfit.

We were looking really fabulous. Our colors were black, and royal purple. We had on rubies, diamonds and pearls. We lined up in the corridor of the auditorium while we waited to be seated on the front row. I was so excited that night to be performing on live television at the 58th Stella Gospel Music Awards. A few seconds before Donnie Dunlap and Yolanda Applegate announced the winner of Songwriter of the year; I looked down our row and noticed Kingston wiping away tears.

When they announced that Kingston Vance had won, he grabbed me by my hand and ushered me on stage with him. It was as if I was outside my body listening to him tell everybody that I was the author of the song. I almost fainted when I heard Kingston say “This is Symphony Boyd’s Award!”

God had answered my prayer! Finally, truth had prevailed. I was so happy and so relieved. I stood there waving my little black book in my right hand and holding the $20,000 check in the other.

By Marilyn Sims