My Father, the Musician


My father is a musician, and has a deep appreciation for music. When we were kids, he would blast the Beatles from homemade speakers to get us out of bed in the morning.

When I was old enough to pick out his presents, I chose "best of" CDs of bands he loved. Later I learned that he prefers actual albums over hits, because of how they are constructed. He enjoys an album as a piece of art.

My dad is a jammer, and a damn good one. When we first started dating, Jeffery played guitar and was in a band. He brought his guitars over one time and he and my dad tried to jam. It was like worlds colliding. Old school psychedelic rock meets hard core punk. But over the years Jeffery's taste in music has drifted closer to my father's, and when Jeff lived with my parents in Hawaii for a couple months before coming to live with me in England, my dad gave him pretty much all of his music.

Some of my earliest memories of music involve me and my dad sitting at his keyboard, singing along to kid's songs. Upon my request he would play the same songs over and over again.  

Although the list of instruments he plays has grown past repeating, he just started taking piano lessons, and I admire his desire to improve as a musician.

Happy Father's Day, dad. And thank you for the music.