"OLE BLUE EYES"
I really have very little to talk about now a days. I feel like my life is a whole bunch of the same thing everyday and I don't want to bore you all with my comings and goings.
Plus, I haven't put new batteries in my camera and I am seriously considering a new one because it eats batteries like a cow eats grass. But I know that I love every second of my sisters blogs and that I just can't wait for new posts, so this is for Emily mostly.
I was just thinking something today I thought I would share. I don't listen to a bunch of CD's anymore with the use of an MP3 player and the radio in the car on the way to work. But, I got tired of listening to the radio so I put in a few of my old favorite CD's. As I have been listening to them the past couple of days I realized something, most of these CD's my Dad made and gave to me. Going back a little on that one: When I was in High School I craved, as some teenagers do, a way to be a little different from the other kids. I wanted something that made me stand out. I guess being the only Mormon for hundreds of miles didn't suffice.
Before my junior year of High School I had an eye appointment in Billings. Now, it is a good 4 hour drive from Ekalaka, so we usually tried to make it a little bit of a special trip. We would do all the shopping we needed, go to a movie sometimes, and Dad would take us out to dinner. (always a novelty when you live in a town of three hundred and the only restaurant is attached to a bar). Dad let me choose the place of dining. I had never been to an Olive Garden before and so that is where we went. It was only me, my mom and dad. I don't know where my little sister was, but that isn't the point of the story. I bet you are wondering what the point of this story is, huh? I guess I get a little carried away when telling a story. ON WITH IT THOUGH! So, we get our table and sit down. I was taking it all in, I felt so special being there. I was sure it was the nicest place I had eaten. I was especially loving the music they were playing. It was music you could really listen to you know. Violins, trumpets, trombones, piano's and a good bass were the main ingredients. Then, on top of that, the most enchanting part of all. The voice. I was mesmerized. I told my Dad that I loved this music, and if he knew who was singing. He looked at me a little funny, and then asked, "do you really not know who is singing?" I shook my head. "Frank Sinatra!" Of course I had heard Frank Sinatra before, but I guess I never really heard him. And OH, how much I was missing. All those 16 years of not knowing this music and this voice. From that moment on, I was obsessed.
I got every Frank Sinatra CD I could find. I downloaded every song I could find. I read books about him. And I listened and listened and listened. My obsession didn't end with Frank, I moved on to other artists of the genre. Dean Martin, Ella Fitzgerald, Bing Crosby, and on down the line. My friends were always taken back when they got in my car and I had "That's Life" blaring through the speakers. But, for what it was worth, it made me a little different than my pop, rock, and rap loving peers.
Soon, my Dad was suggesting more music he thought I might enjoy. First came a CD of Harry Connick Jr. A modern "Frank," if i may be so bold. I now own 2 of Harry's more recent records. Then came a Huey Lewis and the News CD. (one of the CD's currently in my car.) Then, of course, the Manhattan Transfer. One I picked up for myself was a glorious Elton John album. My Dad must have burned a half dozen or more compilations for me and I loved them all. No, I obsessed over them all. Now I have taken a huge love to Michael Buble', and I know that obsession will not end soon.
Not only did my Dad share that music with me, he instilled in my a love for music. Those who know my family well know that we are a little unusual. We ALL love to make music. And we can't help ourselves when we get together. My husband always explains it like this: "It's so weird because you will all just be sitting and talking and all of the sudden a million guitars materialize out of nowhere and everyone breaks into song!" This is not at all far from the truth either, except for the million guitars part. Music brings my family together in such an intimate way and it has formed a bond between us that has made us and unbreakable unit. I have my parents to that for that.
So, I suppose this post is a tribute to good, and I mean real, honest, 100% good music. The kind of music that lasts through generations. Music that is a heritage you can pass down to your children, and then thank your Dad for passing it on to you. I love you Dad, I got a little tender hearted when I was listening to my old CD's today. I admit that I teared up in my car a few times and I got the most overwhelming feeling in my stomach. It wasn't the chili dog from Dairy Queen I ate for lunch either. It was a gratitude that was emanating from deep within me. I could tell story after story about how wonderful a Father I have. But, none of them are as personal and perfect as this one. I will always feel like I share such a connection with my Dad, and part of that connection is because of music. So, here is to that fateful eye doctor appointment and that first trip to the Olive Garden. As Frank would say . . . "When I was Seventeen, that was a very good year."
Promise of Protection
11 years ago
