THE ENLIGHTENED NO

All aboard the North Pole Express.

The train gig this weekend has used up my vocal cords. In a way, it has rendered me voiceless. This was a dangerous yes when my impulse was to say no.

My voice is so tired. It feels like when you have done too much exercise, and it’s hard to lift your legs. My vocal cords are like heavy legs—so much effort to coordinate them into making sounds organized as words. I am taking a vocal rest for a few days.

I will also add that the JOY we brought to the folks riding on the North Pole Express was palpable. I saw children, parents and grandparents with their eyes sparkling and widening in wonder as we leaned in and sang just for them. So special.

We sang in 63 train cars over two days. No. Just no. I say no to this kind of work so I can say yes to the YES work.

I will also add that the folks who run the Railway Museum of British Columbia are so kind and beautiful. Located in Squamish, BC, the gorgeous vintage trains are gathered at the station at the edge of snow-topped mountains. The ride is breathtaking, and it chugga-chugga choo-choos its way into the stunning wetlands surrounding The Chief’s mountain face. Most of the people working to make this holiday magic happen are train-enthusiast volunteers over 70 years old. They are lovely.

I watch a volunteer conductor dressed in his vintage conductor gear take the hands of children and families one by one and help them off the train. He repeats with delight: Go get yourself some hot chocolate! Ask for extra marshmallows! Have as much as you want! And don’t forget a gingerbread cookie!

We three sisters enter the seven-car train from the back and sit in the metal caboose on folding chairs around a tiny space heater. Mike the Elf goes first. I can’t tell if Mike the elf is 13 or 713 years old, but I guess he IS an elf. As the train leaves the station, Mike the Elf begins his juggling act down the train car. The families enjoy his tricks and laugh at his jokes. All the while, I am thinking about Einstein’s theory of relativity and how an elf can juggle on a moving train without losing his balls. We, Myrtle Sisters, talk about this and nod in understanding that the air is coming with us in relation to the train. Gladys says I look like Einstein and I frown. Edna sees my frown and says, But Einstein is very cute. I say, yes, for an old man, but I am a relatively young woman.

We are shivering in our red dresses and pillbox hats, waiting for Mike to finish up his act. Edna carries a rubber chicken purse named Gertrude, which holds a red-horned kazoo, and it peeks over Gertrude’s head. The purse also holds my throat lozenges. We will get warm as we sing and dance from the back car to the front car, and we will exit from the executive car into the lunchroom, so we leave our jackets in the green room. This means we are cold to begin with, and cold between cars. Hot and sweaty to wet and freezing is not a great combination for health and vitality.

Edna with Gertrud, her chicken purse. (PS- In 2019, I was in a bar in New Orleans, and I saw a lady with this purse. I immediately went on my phone and ordered it for Edna.)

We have an hour to rest and snack before we start the journey all over again.

When we see Mike the Elf exit the first train car, we push open the very heavy door, and I begin strumming the intro to Sister Kat. We sing; If I could shimmy like my sister Kate, as we shoulder bounce our way up the aisle. People’s faces immediately light up, and out come the friggin phones. We stop midway through the train car for the tap-dance breakdown. I am strumming ukulele shots on the one beat, as we dance a rhythmic tap section for eight counts of eight. Musicians think in fours, while dancers think in eights. I’m doing both, while playing an instrument and tap dancing at the same time, rolling down the tracks in a vintage car. No one can say I don’t try- REAL HARD. I mean, come on, it’s quite a beautiful feat. The three of us in our ruffle and fur collars, red lips and cheeks, pillbox hats and a chicken purse. Gladys is seven months pregnant and adorable with a very prominent baby bump. We are a delightful scene, and the first train car is kinda fun, only 62 more to go. Fuck my life.

Smile! Dance Monkey! Next car!

But the smile is real, because these are real people lighting up as their starry eyes welcome us, Myrtle Sisters, into their hearts. I feel a commitment to make sure that everyone gets a moment with us. What I give is real. So many eye-to-eyes and growing smiles. Look, they’re tap dancing! They say.

Only two cars have hard surfaces on the aisles ways. The other cars are carpeted, and I don’t want to do the tap-dancing bit on the carpet. Gladys and I begin our debate over this. I feel silly silently tap dancing between the shots on my ukulele. I sometimes will say, Carpet tap! as I project their confusion at us. I want to cut the tap part out, but Gladys is adamant that they love it and that it is important for us to do. I think they are getting enough bang out of us in our character and song. By the 40th train car, we have our 5-minute schtick dialled. I keep thinking, would my famous singer pal do a gig like this? Oh, HELL NO!

We finally find a compromise in doing a different, more physically dynamic tap section that has the ukulele strumming through the entire 64 counts instead of just shots on the one. Gladys will also make clicky sounds with hand castanets. After this song, Edna announces to the car; We are the Myrlte Sisters! Gladys and Edna take turns pretending that they are going to meet each person, one by one, starting at the back of the car. Shirl says- Girls, we don’t have time to meet every single person, although that would be really nice. We decide that perhaps everyone can say their names all at the same time on the count of three. One, two, three! Nice to meet you, Kelalfreshloopetanormoosh!

Next, we play; Let Yourself Go, an old Ginger Rogers song. In the middle of the song, Edna’s hand-sized metal rings, which she has been using as percussion, get linked and stuck together. She gets a kid to try and pull them apart to no avail. They she works her magic and gets a child to blow on them, and they wondrously come apart! We finish with an old song, Alabama Bound, which we change to Well, I’m North Pole Bound. By about the 50th set, I figure out a nice short version of the song, which works like a tag as we sing our way to the front of the car. See you at the North Pole, Edna shouts as we wave goodbye and exit the car.

If the timing is right, we cross through the coupler-vestibule area and launch into the top of the set on the next car. If Mike the elf is still entertaining in front of us, then we shiver in the outside in-between area, while I re-tune my ukulele. It gets knocked out of tune every time we exit the warm car into the freezing in-between area. I think about how many movies I’ve seen where someone is being chased through these areas of a train.

The morning of day two, I can’t seem to hold myself together and make so many mistakes. I start songs in the wrong key and then stop and start again. I completely blank out and don’t sing my parts. Eep. Pull yourself together, Shirl. I pull myself together. I haven’t been drinking all month, but I feel that I really want to have a glass of wine when I get home.

The folks who hire us LOVE what we bring and ask if we can come for any of the other weekends of the North Pole Express. I say we will think about it. By the end of the second day, for me, it is a clear NO.

Part of this inner debate is about money, but there are other reasons for taking gigs. I consider the energy exchange. I give my gifts freely and am rewarded with:

1. Money: Is this opportunity going to make me a lot of money?

2. Fun: Is this going to be an extremely fun experience?

3. Artistic Mastery: Is this going to be an opportunity to build mastery in any of my artistic modalities?

Ideally, a gig has all of them, but it has to have at least one, and it has to be worth the exchange. How much is the output going to cost me? Sometimes a gig is a community offering. Do I have the capacity for an offering? Sometimes the gig is about making the right connections.

This gig had its beautiful moments, but the output cost me a lot. I am thinking about how this opportunity has left me depleted. It didn’t pay that well, it was only a little bit fun, and didn’t really expand my artistic mastery- in fact, I think it took away from it.

We did get some nice photos, though.

REMEMBER THE ENLIGHTENED NO. We need to say no to certain “opportunities” so we can say YES to the right ones. I’m not a desperate artist scrambling for gigs anymore.

I’m happy to say that the Myrtle Sisters have a great tour coming up in March 2026. We will be playing gorgeous soft-seat Civic theatres across BC, sharing our theatre shows: SAME SAME DIFFERENT for families, and The Myrtle Sisters’ REVUE for adults!

That’s a big YES for me!