I admit it…I’m an American Idol fan. I’m not a fanatic…I don’t call in to vote, or obsess about my favorites, but I do watch it religiously every week. It is always exciting for me to see young, undiscovered talent, who would never otherwise have this kind of opportunity, break into the music business. I love music, and while my ears have near perfect pitch (due to the efforts of a tyrannical piano teacher) my vocal quality is best used in a huge choir where I can blend in and never be singled out. What a wonderful gift it is to sing , in fact the best fantasies I have are being able to belt out one of those high, strong notes. Anyway, last night’s program involved the final four, and I wept like a baby during many of the songs performed. Perhaps it’s been a long week, but it felt so good to be moved by something beautiful. I was relaxed, and felt the same kind of calm that I do after a massage. Of course it helped that I was the only one home…the men in my house snort and choke on their laughter that I am lame enough to cry over something beautiful. In the quiet solitary of my room, I could weep and blow and do that ugly cry that Oprah talks about with reckless abandon. The world seemed less bleak afterwards, though. The music literally tamed and soothed my soul.