A Note on Music to Mom and Dad

I was driving Emma to her friend’s house tonight to practice for her ensemble performance.  I told her she could play music through the car radio from her i-Phone.  I didn’t know the music or band, and wasn’t sure if I liked it, but asked her who it was and how she learned about it.  For some reason, it made me think about music and both of you.

Music has always been very important to me.  At least from a fairly young age.  Could never really play a lick of it, but sure as hell enjoyed listening to it.  Still do.  Music has always brought out emotions, and evokes memories.  I can measure stages of life with the music I was listening to.  There is a song that used to come on the radio, particularly when my clock radio alarm would go off in the mornings when I was in 7^th grade.  It was the month or so prior to spring break, and we were going to Anna Maria.  It seems that each time I heard that song, it was a day closer going to a place I loved.  It was that much easier to get out of bed.  When You See a Chance, Take It by Stevie Winwood, in case you are curious.

It started with sitting in the rocker in the living room in Milford, where the stereo was.  I listened to my first album, The Monkees’ Greatest Hits, over and over.  I knew it was the best music ever.  As I sang along, I wondered how it couldn’t be. 

I realized that musical tastes are often cultivated in the car.  There’s the radio of course, but in my formative years, it was the cassette player.  Dad-You had a tape that I think about to this day.  It was a year’s worth of top hits from the top country artists.  I remember listening to the lyrics of Skip a Rope, by Henson Cargill (Had to look that up on the Internet) and D-I-V-O-R-C-E by Tammy Wynette.  I learned that songs told stories.  I didn’t realize I was learning about social issues, as well.  And talk about stories.  I’m quite certain that cassette tape contained Jimmy Dean’s Big Bad John.  I realize now how parents influence their own children in various ways.  I might not have admitted that I liked that music then, but I sure do appreciate it now.  I understand and love the fact that traditional music, Americana, builds on the blues of the south and string instruments of Appalachia.  With XM radio, Outlaw Country stays close to the roots.

Mom-You took me to my first concert.  Neil Diamond.  I wish I knew where we saw him.  Riverfront Coliseum?  I’m just not sure.  I remember my Neil Diamond phase.  My favorite song is still Shilo.  About the boy who had the imaginary friend.  I remember feeling comfortable enough to play my music in the car with you.  The Buick Regal.  I’d play my Jimi Hendrix, Led Zeppelin, Rolling Stones, and music I wasn’t sure you’d appreciate.  But you were always ok with it.  That was important to me.  I felt like I could experiment with music.  Test it out to see if it was worthwhile.

One thing I will always remember is that neither of you ever censored my music.  In Milford, I finally got my own turntable for my bedroom, and I bought and listened to KISS.  Davy Hemminger wasn’t allowed to listen to that band, so he’d have to come over and listen to it at our house.  I remember my first job, cutting Mr. Pauly’s lawn each week.  He paid me $35 each time.  I spent a significant amount of my earnings on records.

One of the most exciting things you ever bought me was my first stereo system.  Dad brought me to Swallens, and we picked out a tuner, cassette player, and turntable.  We added a cd player my freshman year at DePauw.  I still have most of those components, though they’re not functioning any longer.  I hang old records on the wall of my classroom.  They’re kind of like antiques to the students.

It makes me smile to think of such things, as music goes.  I’m happy that my children appreciate music, and can actually play it.   I love that I understand the influences in my life.  Music isn’t a cure-all.  But it sure can make you feel good.  And if you want, it can provide a soundtrack to life.