Moon River
Huckleberry Friend Insights May/June 2025
" Life shrinks or expands in proportion to one's courage." - Anais Nin
My sister Lyn and I are on the vacation of a lifetime, exploring the Côte d’Azur—France’s dazzling French Riviera in Provence. On our second night, she invites Angela, an American friend who lives in Nice, to join us for drinks at the rooftop bar of the Anantara Plaza Hotel, where we’re staying. As the sun melts into the Mediterranean, we sip chilled Rosé and share laughter under a golden sky. The sea glimmers below us, timeless and calm. Like me, Angela is a life coach—she calls herself a women’s confidence coach—and something about her energy instantly puts me at ease. Feeling safe in her presence, I begin to open up.
“A few months ago,” I tell her, “I started taking singing lessons. I’ve always believed I didn’t have a good voice, so I rarely sang. But now, I’m inspired to find my voice—not just to sing, but to truly express myself and connect through music.”
I explain that my voice coach believes I’m ready to perform in public. Angela lights up. “Jeri, tomorrow night is open mic at a local pub I love. It’s a warm, supportive crowd—the perfect place for your first time. Meet me there at seven?” My heart flutters as I agree to do it.
But that night, I can’t sleep. I toss and turn as doubt creeps in. I picture myself onstage, voice trembling, performance unraveling. Embarrassment. Regret.
By morning, I’ve talked myself out of it. I’m on vacation, I reason. I don’t need this pressure.
Then her reply stops me cold.
“Are you still telling yourself the old, negative stories about your singing? Is that really why you’re backing out?”
She’s right. Her message is a mirror, and I see it clearly. Meeting her—a confidence coach, of all things—at this exact moment, with this exact opportunity, is no accident. It’s fate.
“I’ll be there,” I text back.
That evening, an hour before we leave, I rehearse for Lyn—more to calm my nerves than to perfect the notes. We arrive at Allez Hops . To my relief, the crowd is mostly American and the vibe is relaxed. Nothing like the intimidating nightclub I’d imagined. Angela’s not there yet, so I introduce myself to the host and ask if he knows my song. He does. We do a quick run-through as the room buzzes with chatter and clinking glasses. No one’s really watching the performers. I turn to Lyn and laugh, “This is actually less scary than I thought—nobody’s listening!”
Then it’s my turn. I walk up, mic in hand.
“This is my first time singing in front of an audience,” I say. A few cheers and claps ripple through the room. I smile. “And it’s also my first time singing with live music. You probably know Derrick—he’ll be accompanying me on guitar.” More applause.
“I’m singing one of my mother’s favorite songs, Moon River. She passed away a couple of years ago, and this one’s for her.” My eyes blur with tears. I can almost feel her beside me, gently smiling. Derrick nods. I take a deep breath.
I begin:
“Moon river, wider than a mile, I’m crossing you in style someday…”
The room quiets. It’s just me, Derrick, and the melody.
I sing with everything I have—with longing, with heart, with the joy of surrendering to the moment. The words carry me deeper:
“Two drifters off to see the world, there’s such a lot of world to see…”
I glance at Lyn. She’s smiling, eyes glistening. I sing to her,
“…my Huckleberry friend…”
“…Moon river and me.”
Applause erupts. I beam, whisper a thank you, and rush to hug Angela—my unexpected guide, the true heroine of the night. Angela Erwin Her loving support radiated through the room the entire time I was singing.
Later, lifting a glass of brew with my new friends, I realize something powerful. I know I gave something that changed me in those moments, that really took me out of myself and let the song and the music connect with the heart and soul of others and in doing so, created a lifelong memory. My international singing debut in Nice, France!!