The McPhee Imagination: “Tell Me, Where is the Shepherd?”

By

Greg (Gregoriancant)

“Hey, Katharine….it’s me, your best friend, Kasey. Come on over here and join me under the dining room table while your mom works with that student in the living room. It’s been a few weeks since we did that last—and we always have fun listening together whenever she works with her students, don’t we?”

 “Hi, Kasey! This is Katharine. Ok, I’ll be there in a minute. Mom’s introducing me to this new student of hers first. And she’s telling me that this student was invited with a bunch of her other students to sing ‘Happy Birthday’ to me at my sixth birthday party next week.”

 
I think that’s how the dialogue went that day when I was just about to turn six. I’d always spent time under that table more or less alone when mom had her music lessons with students. Now the friend I created in my mind, Kasey, was inviting me under there. He was just a literal teddy bear, of course—but was as real to me as any other real person. It’s really odd tapping into that time period again…especially when I feel so much different now as I’m about to turn 18. I graduated from high school a few months ago and feel the pressures of being an adult, various issues I’m currently grappling with, and getting ready for college. All that means any thought I was talking to teddy bears and spending time under our family dining room table to hear students sing seems miles away from where I am now. Actually, I wish I could regain that sense of imagination that I had when I was five and six. Maybe I will somewhere down the road when I can get through some of the things I’ve been going through lately.

 
That day with Kasey still has so much meaning to me somehow:

 
“I’m glad you’re here with me now. But, wow, I wish you wouldn’t leave me under this table for too long. Your pet dog almost chewed me up earlier when he suspected there was more to me than just a stuffed animal. And then that carpet freshener your housecleaner uses makes me itchy…”, Kasey said in a knowing way to me that I instantly understood. I watched mom’s sense of humor in her cabaret shows, and I really picked up on sophisticated comedy early.

 
“Do you think Adriana might join us sometime soon?” I asked, while just then wondering why my sister and I did everything else together except spend time in this little imaginative realm on days I was stuck indoors.

 
“I think your imagination is a little different. She might not get why you’re spending time under here,” Kasey said to me in a way that continued to make him a teddy bear philosopher par excellence.

 
“I don’t know why I’m attracted to those singers mom brings in here. Adriana’s probably smart not to spend time listening to people struggling to hit certain notes while mom patiently helps them. But there’s something about those songs mom plays and teaches…”

 
“And that’s all we’re going to talk about here in our little environment. No bringing up Michael Jackson, New Kids on the Block or Paula Abdul’s latest hit until we’re at least back in your room.”

 
This was March of 1990—and I listened to some contemporary pop from the time period. But The Great American Songbook was everywhere in my household—all from the result of mom’s influence…and some from dad too.  I was instantly attracted to that sound more than any other. Or maybe it was attracted to me, I don’t know for sure. When you’re a kid with an overactive imagination, hearing music in your home that doesn’t sound right with the times probably helps enhance some aspects of the brain that don’t usually get activated when you’re a little kid.

 
“Ha ha…listen to that, Kasey. Can you hear Mrs. Sandstrom trying to hit that high note for mom on that one song called…um…’Somewhere, Someone…’”

 
“’Someone To Watch Over Me?’ Yes, that’s a beautiful George Gershwin song, isn’t it? I put a lot of heart into that song myself—because I seem to live those lyrics to some degree. But I bet you could hit that note yourself. I’ve seen the videos your dad made of you putting on those little singing shows with the microphone.”

 
“Oh, that’s so embarrassing you saw those. But I think I may want to be a singer when I grow up. It’s either that or being a vete…veta…vete-rin-arian…so I can take care of you and people like you.”

 
“I notice you just said ‘people.’ I appreciate you saying that, Katharine. We teddy bears don’t want to always fall under the ‘just a teddy bear’ persona.”

 
“Hey, do you think I could attempt that note Mrs. Sandstrom couldn’t hit?”

 
“Well, sure…give it a try. We have to get busy and step up our activity somehow while we’re down here.”

 
I didn’t really know where to even start on approaching that note. So I just started mimicking Mrs. Sandstrom instead. In my mind, it sounded just like Mrs. Sandstrom doing a complete octave scale starting at middle C. To mom and Mrs. Sandstrom—it probably sounded like some wild bird had somehow gotten into the house, flown under the dining room table and had just been caught by the family cat.

 
“Oh no…I don’t hear your mom or Mrs. Sandstrom talking any more. You must have scared them with what you just did,” said Kasey in a worried tone that our little world might start heading back closer to reality rather than tilting back to our usual deep imaginative realms.

 
“Katharine, was that you?” Mom said while walking into the dining area and not quite being able to see me because of the tablecloth hanging down enough to conceal me and Kasey.

 
I was afraid to answer—because it would instantly take my own little environment away from me to the way I wanted it to be. Instead, I just stuck my head out so mom could see me…and I waved to her with a little cute smile. I could see mom just starting to laugh…with Mrs. Sandstrom, who came walking up behind her, looking curious…yet appalled.

 
“I thought you had a pet parrot back here for minute,” Mrs. Sandstrom grumbled.

 
“Well, I think I do. Katharine’s always mimicking other students. But don’t worry…she only does it once and then goes back to whatever she’s doing when she spends time under there,” Mom replied while turning Mrs. Sandstrom around to head back to the living room so they didn’t waste any more time with her singing lesson. She said those words in a way that seemed to understand where I was coming from. Perhaps I was a repeat of what she did as a kid.

 
“Whew. That was close,” Kasey exclaimed while also reminding me that I actually mimicked one student (Mr. Garrison’s horrible baritone) twice within fifteen minutes several months ago rather than just once. Apparently mom had forgotten that or just gave it a pass from agreeing with my lampooning.

 
“Oh, now Mrs. Sandstrom’s singing the whole song. You know what we always do when one of mom’s students starts singing the whole song…” I tried to tip off Kasey who sometimes liked to do different imaginative things at the drop of a hat.

 
“Yes, we always close our eyes and take in every note. Or at least you do, Katharine. I usually just watch you go into some kind of trance when those old songs are sung by the students or your mom plays an old recording of the song.” Kasey replied with a hint that he wanted to do something different before it got too late in the day. I could tell he was trying to formulate something that would help re-energize our creative minds.

 
I never knew exactly what I looked like when hearing those songs—but I definitely went inward when hearing them and placed myself in romantic environments. I was already a romantic at heart by the time I was three—maybe thanks to the older romantic songs that had a completely different romantic sensibility from songs in my era. Most of the environments I imaged myself in were environments where it was always late spring/early summer, people were all in love with one another, and where everything worked out perfectly in the end. It was a little like Dorothy going into Oz…but without the turmoil. It was also in even more vivid Technicolor than anything seen in any old MGM musical.

 
This time, I decided to take Kasey with me there again after he visited there with me a few times before. The spot of floor where I sat with him under the dining room table turned into a flying carpet that flew over that world.

 
“Wow…I’ve never been with you to this area,” Kasey shouted while we flew over that huge bed of yellow roses I always passed during the most romantic parts of a song. This time, it was during the second verse of ‘Someone To Watch Over Me.’

 
“Look at that! Who is that?” I yelled to Kasey while flying over a young boy walking around by himself in a meadow that looked greener than the ones in Ireland.

 
“Have you gone so far into your imagination now that you don’t even know who it could be? I guess that could be possible. Well, go ahead and land and ask him who he is,” Kasey suggested in his smarty-pants tone again. We landed in an area where the boy couldn’t see us.

 
“Excuse me, but I’ve never seen you here before,” I asked while walking up behind the boy—somehow forgetting that he was just a creation and not something real. But when Kasey and I ventured too far into our imaginary world, it brought things up I couldn’t quite figure out sometimes.

 
The boy didn’t say a word, but came up to me, gave me a quick smack on the lips…and then ran off over the meadow with this giddy laugh. Then there was a strange feeling overwhelming me that I couldn’t understand. It compelled me to pick up Kasey and run after the boy…despite not being able to find that kid anywhere. Finally I spotted him across a giant lake where he gestured for me to come join him under this rainbow that was the largest and most stunning sight of color I’d ever seen in this world or in the real one.

 
“I know you can swim well, Katharine—but I don’t think it’s a good idea to go to an area here you’ve never been before. Our world can get into dangerous territory just as much as the real world,” Kasey wisely informed me. I dangled him from my left hand while standing there with a jaw drop looking at the boy across the lake.

 
“But I feel something weird here,” I impulsively blurted.

 
“You can venture here later when you’re a little older—and hopefully when you still have the capability to come here whenever you want. But right now, at least we’ve learned a little something different about this place.” Kasey started to bask in the comfort that I was now cuddling him in my arms rather than that boy.

 
It’s funny that it took all this time to realize that it was my first broad perspective of romance. And that boy seemed to be an amalgam of a lot of boys I liked in kindergarten…and many I’ve since liked and dated. Kasey was actually quite smart in telling me to stay away from getting involved with that boy in our invented world. Had I gone there then, I may have created too perfect of an ideal in males too early. Instead, I managed to accept the real world when it came to relationships. It helped in creating a balance there when I finally did catch up with that boy on one of my last excursions to our world about five years later. I’ve never been back since then—and the reality of some of my relationships in high school makes me shudder why I even entered that world in the first place.

 
“Come on, Katharine…the song’s about to end,” Kasey reminded me as I walked back to our scrap of flying carpet and smelled some of the yellow roses along the way that were in a huge garden nearby.

 
It was raining back in our real world of California—so it was nice to stay in this world where everything beautiful and perfect was a recurring cycle. But Mrs. Sandstrom singing ‘Someone To Watch Over Me’—as imperfect-sounding as it was, was in its final few notes...which meant we had to head back. Only hearing these songs provided the fuel to get to this world. Fortunately, mom—in order to show Mrs. Sandstrom how to approach certain notes—put on a CD of Ella Fitzgerald singing ‘Someone To Watch Over Me.’ That extended my time with Kasey in our world for a few minutes longer. But I really slipped into the sensory experience of this environment. I had a strong symbiotic relationship between this world and these songs—to the point of swearing I was right there. Each scent, texture and sound became more than vivid. Mom had already taught me a few things in my early vocal lessons on how to tap into your imagination while singing a standard—though she probably never suspected I already had one built up that would be an Eighth Wonder of the World if people could actually see what I saw.

 
“Katharine, wake up. I have some new ideas for us,” I could hear Kasey say. I apparently fell asleep basking in the environment of our world and had to be reminded the music was over for now.

 
“Oh no, now we have to hear just musical scales,” I said while coming to my senses and hearing mom’s next lesson arriving for the afternoon—Mrs. Haggis—who was just in the preliminary stages of learning how to sing.

 
“I know you don’t like repetitive things like that and just want to get to the good parts. That’s why I have another idea before we leave here. You know, I’ve been thinking about the future…” Kasey said in that thoughtful way that I knew meant he had something cool in mind.

 
“I have trouble doing that sometimes. Though I sometimes wonder about myself—and what kind of famous singers there might be in the future.”

 
“That’s exactly what I have in mind. After seeing that talent show you were watching on TV the other night…I wondered if there might be one exclusively for singers someday. Can you imagine it?”

 
“I guess so. I’m not sure if people would want to see one, though, with just singers.”

 
“The future’s the future. Anything can happen then. And I see you on a show like that someday. How about we create that scenario right now?”

 
“It’s a cool idea, Kasey. It’d give me a chance to see what it’d be like if that ever did happen. But we need to set up an audience.”

 
“No problem with that. See that set of stacking Russian dolls your mom bought last year? Go reach up on the counter and get those and set them up on the floor.”

 
Sometimes Kasey would get a little too ambitious in the things we’d create—which led to me doing some things mom would probably spank me for. Nevertheless, I was careful with the things we used as props to create our environments. It only took me seconds to get those Russian dolls off the nearby counter, take them all out and line them up in a formation resembling something close to an audience. Because there was a set of three mother dolls—it was about 15 dolls total after being unstacked.

 
“Ok, see those three dolls there? Put them at the front. These will be the judges—with the biggest doll being the most important judge. The slightly smaller dolls have to seemingly go along with the big doll judge,” Kasey directed in a way that showed he may have thought a little too much about this.

 
“Why does that judge have to be so big?” I had to ask.

 
“Because there has to be a judge who’s so important that he goes after you for no good reason. That’s usually how a lot of people who think they’re important operate, right?”   

 
“I’ve seen some people that way, yeah. Dad’s told me about people like that in his job.”

 
“Now all we have to think about are some of those Russian dolls out there in the audience as your family rooting you on. And then there’s the thought of what you’re going to sing. While you might do some standards—I think you can do pretty much anything.”

 
“Thanks for saying that, Kasey. Mom played that old Broadway soundtrack album to ‘Annie Get Your Gun’ the other day—and that ‘Can’t Get a Man with a Gun’ song’s been running through my head. Whattaya think about that one?”

 
“That’s a good showstopper. All you need with that is a rifle prop to make it authentic as in the show. Up there, grab that giant candlestick up on the counter to use as the rifle.”

 
Another careful trip from under the table enabled me to grab that candlestick. And all those trinkets on the counter were right near the edge so I could grab them easily without having to get up on a stool.

 
“Now we need to scoot the tablecloth down a little more so we’ll have a decent curtain you can come out from,” Kasey suggested. I agreed and started to carefully pull on the tablecloth that already hung down about halfway over all four sides of the table.

 
As I pulled it down about half-an-inch every few seconds, I started to hear some items on top of the table start to wobble—though I managed to get the tablecloth down enough where it didn’t cause any accidents. Then I crawled around and behind my new curtain…while starting to hear the very distinct sound of people cheering…and chanting my name.

 
I could hear Kasey start to announce me in an announcer’s type of voice…

 
“Miss Katharine McPhee is a new up-and-coming talent. She’s just come in from a long local run playing Annie Oakley in ‘Annie Get Your Gun’ and will now perform her rendition of ‘You Can’t Get a Man with a Gun.’ Ladies and gentlemen, will you welcome…Katharine McPheeeeeeeee….”

 
As my curtain opened, a huge spotlight shined on me. It was actually the sun coming in through the nearby window—but it was very convincing. The little faces on the Russian dolls seemed to be alive—with several of them looking a little like mom, dad, Adriana, and my grandparents. All of the dolls were cheering like crazy people and wobbling back and forth where they stood on the floor. The three doll judges just sat there stoned face, however appearing to be applauding politely.

 
Then everything went silent. This was my first real test of performing in front of people, but I had the same feeling I always had when putting on those little shows for dad and mom while they captured it on video. There was no sense of fear in me that I could detect. In fact, it seemed to push me to some kind of ecstatic feeling that you only get when you have total freedom to do whatever you want. I ripped into ‘Can’t Get a Man with a Gun’ with a huge passion that I almost wish dad and mom could capture on video for me. At one point, I inadvertently aimed the rifle toward the large judge who looked scared to death that I’d actually shoot him.

 
Even before I hit the final note, the whole set of those Russian dolls seemed to go crazy and act like they’d just heard the greatest thing they’d ever heard in their lives. Even Kasey seemed stunned at what he’d just heard. It enabled me a chance to come back and do another number before the final vote would take place. With Kasey yelling out to me to sing something slow this time—I went back behind the curtain to try to formulate what I wanted to do. I’d never really attempted to sing anything overly intimate at that age yet. All of my mock singing dad and mom captured on tape was me either making up songs, singing upbeat standards or contemporary songs. That was the nature of a little kid to be attracted to what’s musically exciting first before attempting to go inward and sing introspective type of material.

 
“’Someone To Watch Over Me,’” I said under my breath while standing forward behind the curtain. I really knew it inside and out at this point from mom singing it so often in her shows and teaching it to Mrs. Sandstrom…plus so many students that I’d listened to for the last couple of years.

 
The curtain opened after another rousing introduction from Kasey. This time, the cheers were even louder as some sort of sign this song would turn the tide for me. As I was during ‘Can’t Get a Man With a Gun’—I was also standing on my knees that I’d somehow gotten accustomed to when spending time under that table. Then you could hear a pin drop as I started singing a cappella the seldom-sung verse of the song:

 
There’s a saying old, says that love is blind

Still we’re often told, “seek and ye shall find”

So I’m going to seek a certain lad I’ve had in mind

Looking everywhere, haven’t found him yet

He’s the big affair I cannot forget

Only man I ever think of with regret

I’d like to add his initial to my monogram

Tell me, where is the shepherd for this lost lamb?

Then the famous verse followed—with a few phrases not resonating with me, yet a lot of other sentences began to hit me with an odd sense of emotion that I hadn’t experienced before. It was almost as if I was picking up the overwhelming feelings of another life before mine that somehow was transplanted into my body at birth. Or, maybe it was feelings I’d absorbed while still in the womb. I sometimes think that there’s a strong perception of learning when you’re in your mother’s womb than when you actually come out into the real world later. Whatever it may be, I couldn’t fight back the tears while singing about finding the perfect companion, the complexities of love and that we truly need someone to watch over us…even if it’s just a father/mother figure or friend. I looked over at Kasey who seemed to form the sweetest emotional look on his face while he watched me perform as if he understood everything. Then again, him being a teddy bear…he always seemed to have a sweet expression on his face.

 
I took in a huge deep breath before holding that final “Meeeeeeeee” note. Everything went silent again after I finished the note—followed by the feeling of the whole table about to collapse on us all. The noise was tremendous from the crowd Kasey and I created. Even the judges were wobbling around in their place with excited expressions on their faces. I figured I probably had this contest in the bag, despite the unspoken notion that there were other contestants I was competing against. Kasey and I didn’t even bother creating the performing competition initially…until he inadvertently announced the next performer. I turned around and the little wind-up robot from my toy collection that I’d left under the table overnight came out from behind the curtain to perform a song. When wound up to full capacity, the robot would walk around erratically and could always do a somersault if it lost its balance and fell over. It did that about 20 times as it proceeded to sing some kind of horrible Michael Bolton song.  After that was all over, the crowd also erupted into a sound that about collapsed the table.

 
So, it all came down to me and that robot in the decision-making process with the judges. When Kasey announced each of our names—the intense crowd response was about equal. But I didn’t really care who was going to win. I’d grown into something with my own singing and had an odd, proud feeling about myself. Just as the judges were about to announce the winner—the excitement that Kasey and I truly accomplished something in our little world made me tug on the curtain a little too hard. That’s when I heard that wobbling sound of things up on the table again…followed by several things falling over and onto the floor next to where I sat.

 
“Katharine!” I heard yelling from behind the now nearly pulled-down tablecloth hanging over the one side of the table. It was mom’s voice—and she pulled the tablecloth aside to look in on the little world Kasey and I had created. Fortunately, I managed to gather up all the Russian dolls so they were placed back in their respective mother dolls. The candlestick I just placed next to them.

 
“Please be careful! Fortunately, you didn’t break anything,” Mom said while grabbing my arm, grabbing the dolls and candle, then taking me out from under the table where I noticed the items fallen from the table were fortunately unbreakable items. I also grabbed Kasey in the process. Mom didn’t spank me—because she looked under the table a second while straightening out the tablecloth and seemed to nod her head a little like she understood what I was doing. Then she said to me:

 
“And do more of what you were doing earlier. You sounded beautiful singing ‘Someone To Watch Over Me’ to yourself.”

 
She went back to the living room to wait for her next student who was expected to arrive any minute. Mom didn’t lead me off to my room either…apparently giving me a choice to either go back under the table or choose reality for a while. I seldom stayed under the table more than an hour…so I took Kasey with me back to my room.

 
“You DID sound beautiful, Katharine. I knew you could do it. And we’ll get to keep working on that for months to come in our little place. Meet up at the same place tomorrow?” Kasey remarked and asked while I stood at the foot of my bed to place him up there before embarking on some other thing to occupy my time.

 
And I agreed to keep meeting up with Kasey there off and on for the next several years. After I started singing in public more later, Kasey no longer spoke to me. Sometimes Kasey became so real that I guess I sort of felt strange creating that companion for myself. When reviewing your childhood, though, you start to wonder what was real and what wasn’t at the time from the haze of going between the subconscious and the conscious world. But Kasey’s comments were sometimes so outside of my own thoughts that it seems somewhat eerie now.

 
Here I am currently at 18…looking at a somewhat tattered-looking Kasey at the foot of my bed. I’ve been packing to head off to Boston and Boston Conservatory to study musical theatre, and I’ve been going through my old things in my room, which turned up Kasey in my chest of drawers. He hasn’t spoken to me in over ten years—despite seeming longer. Right now, some guidance on where to go from here would be helpful for me. I’m loaded with uncertainties about life and very real problems that’s taken me over to exercising the more practical side of my brain more recently in order to make attempts at straightening things out.  When you do that for too long…it zaps away your creative imagination. That may be the true reason why adults lose their imagination after a certain age because of the focus on real life and problems. But I need it back when I study at Boston Conservatory this coming semester...or if I end up doing musical theatre later.

 
“Katharine? Katharine, if you can hear me…speak up!”

 
“Kasey? Is that you? I can hear you again!”

 
“I’ve always been talking to you…but you just stopped listening until now when you managed to re-enter the place in your head where you always could listen. It may have been about ten years since we’ve talked—though our little world is still intact. It never changes, and you can go there anytime you want to figure things out and get inspiration.”

 
“Can we go there one more time before I leave town tomorrow morning?”

 
“Yes, I think you need to at this point. And it doesn’t have to be under the dining room table. Your mom and dad might think it a little strange if you did that now. Remember we entered our world in your room a few times when you were seven? Well, we can do it right now in just the same way. Just put on a CD of one of your favorite songs—and it’ll help all over again.”

 
“Ok, I will. You’re right, Kasey…we’re back there again. My own little utopia hasn’t changed at all since we last left. It looks even more romantic than it did ten years ago. And, look, there’s some new territory over there across the meadow I’ve never seen before.”

 
“I’m aware of those new areas. It’s dangerous territory that’s only meant for the toughest adults to handle too. It’s an area of ridicule and uneducated attacks. You’ll have to go there to explore eventually—but save it up for a while. The important thing is to keep coming back to the territory you’re already familiar with when you need to while performing and during other life issues.”

 
“Kasey…you sound so wise for a teddy bear. I can’t believe I actually created you when you feel so outside of my own self.”

 
“Don’t underestimate what’s in the creative mind, Katharine. When you explore there, you find things that can help you, hurt you…or leave you in a state of wondering where things come from. When it gets too complicated to figure out—just accept the simple answer that I’ll continue to be your close companion and inspiration if you choose to let it stay that way for the rest of your life.”

_______

I finally read your story, Greg.  I absolutely loved it.  I think we all did stuff like that when we were kids.  I know I had a teddy bear that I packed around everywhere.  I remember my teddy bear losing one eye and getting an eye patch for it.  So he was kind of a Pirate Teddy Bear.

Anyway, as for the story.  So vivid.  I mean I was right there with all the Russian dolls in the audience watching Katharine & the robot face off in the finale.  I don't want to say too much for people who haven't read it all yet but...we do all need to keep that imagination going.  That's why I like writing these stories.  Being creative really keeps your mind alive when it can easily slip into automatic pilot doing the daily routine.

One thing I noticed.  We now have Kasey, the teddy bear in this story.  We have Kaycee McDonald, Katharine's first child in Rainbowland.  And we also have Kasey Phillips, the Kellie Pickleresque character in my "4 K's" world.

Strange.  Didn't know we all had the name Kasey/Kaycee on the brain.