1976

When other kids were listening to Boston, KISS, Peter Frampton or ABBA, me and my sister were at home practicing our Barbra impersonations; the cross-eyed stare and the head shake dance.

But mostly I think we were mesmerized by the high notes Barbra reached and held onto for what seemed like an eternity, the notes we could not copy, instead flailing to the ground out of air.

At one point I began buying opera records, like Carmen and Madame Butterfly, which probably made my folks wonder what the hell was wrong with me. But my curiosity of high notes lasted briefly, as I soon returned to Queen and Rod Stewart and the British invasion.

And when I grew weary of them, only she remained ... the greatest singer of all.