Whenever somebody tells me they want me to stop singing, I'm gone.

There is a great feeling in a small venue, with the closeness of the people and the intimacy.

One day, when I was about eight years old, some kids pushed me on stage at school during a talent show because they knew I could sing.

I have fun just about everywhere I go.

My uncle was 16, in junior high, and he heard me singing and snatched me off the stage. I thought he was happy and was going to pat me on the head and say I was good. But he took me home and told my grandmother this youngin' was at school singing the blues.

I'm old enough to be Obama's grandmom. But I still like seeing good-looking things. Nothing wrong with that.

My voice is my gift. And Pops had me using it in the right way. I had many offers to sing pop, to sing rhythm and blues. Pops said "Mavis, this record company want to give you a million dollars." I said, "No daddy, I want to sing with the family." And I did. I never wanted to branch out by myself. But I've had to now. It's my mission. I've been left here to do it. And I'm grateful.