LAKE BLUFF, Illinois – April 6, 2026 – A small church congregation in Lake Bluff, Illinois, which had gathered yesterday to celebrate Easter Sunday, was unwittingly subjected to the cringeworthy shrieking of a deluded soprano during the singing of the classic Easter hymn “Christ the Lord is Risen Today.”
“Yeah, that was me, ” said the widow who calls herself Ridiculouswoman. “Every amateur church choir has one — you know, the demented soprano with an ego much bigger than her talent. I’ve heard many of them, but I never thought I’d be one of them.”
Ridiculous said she knew something was wrong only after the service ended, when no one complimented her on her singing.
“That’s really unusual. Every time I sing in the choir, someone comes up to me after the service to tell me how much they enjoyed it. But not this Easter.
“And it occurred to me that it was possible that the person in the congregation who audibly exclaimed, “Jesus!” as the hymn ended didn’t mean it as praise, to Him or to me. And the one choir member who spoke to me after the service said it was nice to sing with me…last week.
“So while I don’t usually do this, because I hate seeing myself on video, I viewed the recording of the service when I got home. I was shocked. It wasn’t just that I was singing way too loudly. I was singing consistently sharp, and during the descant part, my voice broke and cracked and wobbled out of control. It sounded like someone was strangling a cat – a very big, very fat, very spoiled cat.
“On top of feeling humiliation, not to mention concern for my sanity, I was deeply disturbed that, while I was singing, I really believed I sounded great. After all, it’s my favorite hymn, and what better day than Easter to really let those high notes rip? But when I saw the recording and heard the hymn, I realized I had turned into “that soprano.
“At first I tried to blame it on the sound quality of the recording, which honestly was pretty bad, at least on my phone. But when I watched it on a TV connected to a Roku streaming stick, I couldn’t deny that the unbearable, out-of-tune caterwauling was coming from me.
“That has really shaken me. For decades, my identity has been bound up with my singing ability. If I’ve lost that, I don’t know who I am anymore. I feel like I’m melting, like the Wicked Witch.”
At this point in the interview, Ridiculous broke down emotionally, but she managed to ask this reporter to convey her sincerest apologies and deepest regrets to the choir, the congregation, and anyone passing by on the street, who were subjected to the unholy screeching of a deranged soprano, who thought she was delivering a thrilling performance, but instead supplied a form of torture that churchgoers everywhere dread.
“The only thing I can do now is learn the Brunhilde parts of the Ring Cycle. The role of Tilly Tin Tits (as one of my college music professors called her) is the only acceptable vehicle for excruciating soprano singing, because no one can tell if you’re singing the right notes anyway. In fact, the more painful it is to listen to, the more Wagnerian it will be.”
Off to salve her ego by singing something everyone already expects to be God-awful, she remains,
your mortified, identity-crisis-suffering, receding-into-the-hedges-determined-to-be-invisible-and-if-she-ever-shows-up-at-church-again-will-be-in-disguise-and-definitely-NOT-singing,
Ridiculouswoman
I can soooo identify with this! Laughing with you, not at you 🥰🤣
Is that because you sing, or someone else has sung at you?
I am so sorry that happened to you. I also have sung all my life- my mom was a folksinger and I often sang duets with her as soon as I was old enough to remember all the words. Cute little sidekick lasted only so long but then I always got solos in chorus in school, etc. Here in my retirement community, there are many former musicians and music teachers, directors, and performers as we are right next to Oberlin College and the Oberlin Conservatory. I started singing here at a casual group called Song Swap- mostly folk songs or old favorites before my time, vaguely remembered from my mom. And then I found out- the notes that were in my head were not the ones coming out of my mouth. Something in my brain no longer lined up with the music I knew so well. Another unexpected loss due to my eldering body. You are not alone but it is a sobering moment to realize some things we identified with as ‘who we were’ in the past must be shed in order to find new resilient expressions. I used to be a dancer also. With MS that is long gone as well. Well, you and I still can write and that is what we also do rather well. On we go…
Thanks so much, Judy! I danced from 5-15, used to ski ( now the risk of more meniscus tears has sidelined that, along with lack of funds) but yes, I still have the writing! Hope I don’t get to the point where “words fail me” for a long time yet!