As a kid I didn't have any deep conversations with my dad. A good man and hard worker, dad was a passionate conversationalist--especially when he'd had a few beers. But those conversations were limited most often to other adults. He was of the generation that believed children were to be seen and not heard. He would definitely have a "conversation" with one of his children if he was displeased. I can remember the booming voice that could just have easily been God if he was pissed off. Maybe that's the reason I still don't like to think of my concept of God as a male/father figure. Who knows? Dad was a disciplinarian in voice only, however. I don't ever recall him laying a finger on me. For that I'm grateful. I had friends who were spanked regularly. For instance my childhood buddy, Richie. Pretty much a weekly occurrence with his strict father.
Dad loved listening to music. The radio was always on in the car on short and long trips. He'd scan the stations and surprisingly settle very often on contemporary pop. His choices at home were more often records he and my mom had that reflected some of the great voices of their generation: Perry Como, Guy Lombardo, Lawrence Welk among many others. Mom had a particular fondness for Perry Como and a Polish crooner named Bobby Vinton--the "Polish Prince." But some of my clearest memories of dad and music were these car trips--very often with just he and my mom as I was the last of five children and when the others had left the nest, I was the remaining car companion. A few memories stand out. Some of them were from solitary short trips with my father like the times when he'd drive me to morning mass because I was an altar server and walking to the church was out of the question. Those were the few instances I recall where I actually got to hear my father speaking directly to me about music.
The Canadian artist Gordon Lightfoot had a top 40 hit in 1976 titled "The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald" about an ill-fated Great Lakes freighter that sunk in Lake Superior during a ferocious storm in November of 1975. The entire crew of 29 men perished in that disaster and the song basically told the story. For whatever reason dad deemed it important, we sat in the driveway of our house upon return from some errand once the song came on and my father told me to listen to the words as it was a true story. Perhaps it was the fact that it was a relatively recent news event and my dad was a true news junkie or perhaps he really liked the song, being a bit of a storyteller himself. Whatever the reason, it was one of those rare instances where my father gave me his full attention and it left an impression.
Other memories are a bit more subtle but one stands out in particular--again from 1976. It's easy to date these memories precisely because they are related to popular music. I wouldn't begin journaling until 1979. This memory evokes a bit more emotion however because I was at this tender age beginning to question my sexuality, even if I didn't fully understand it. Elton John had recently given an interview to Rolling Stone magazine and in the interview, he came out as bisexual. This news spread like wildfire since being openly gay or bi in the 1970s had an entirely different reaction than such news brings these days. Let's just say it wasn't celebrated. Contrary to what this type of news had done to countless other entertainers however, it didn't seem to hurt Elton's popularity. I suppose by then his music was so beloved that people could choose to overlook this "peculiarity." I strongly suspect that my father might have actually appreciated Elton John prior to this public revelation. Despite his flamboyance, his music attracted appreciation from multiple generations. An Elton John song came on the radio--not sure which one but it very easily could have been any that was then popular. My hunch is that it was Sorry Seems to Be the Hardest Word. That would have been the biggest hit that year post the Rolling Stone interview. What I remember most distinctly was my father's visceral disgust with Elton John as soon as the song came on. He made a statement along the lines of "that guy is full of crap." Years since, I've reflected on the fact that dad wasn't making a statement about the music. He was making a statement about the man. More particularly, how he felt about the man. I wonder to this day if it was because of the announcement in the interview.
More comical pronouncements from dad didn't take the form of discussion about music--just opinion. For instance, remarking on the voice of Barbra Streisand--whose music he really appreciated--his comment went something like "That gal's got a voice but boy, that nose!" Dad could be pretty crass when describing the physical characteristics of folks. Years later, when I was living in Texas, I made a habit of bringing CDs when I traveled back and forth and my portable CD player always in tow. On one visit, I was surprised to find him listening to some of the CDs I brought. He really enjoyed the Natalie Cole grammy winning album from the early 90s Unforgettable and surprisingly Bonnie Raitt's breakthrough comeback album Nick of Time which included such songs as Have a Heart. To paraphrase his comment at the time, "That gal's not bad looking for her age and she has a voice."
One of the nicest things about memories of my father that include music are the numerous road trips that we took with the radio always on and recognizing songs that were in heavy rotation at the time of those journeys. It has helped me to recall dates of trips in previous writings to recall songs that played incessantly on a road trip and simply date the song. There are many instances of pleasant memories in that regard. In years leading up to the time we lost him, I got closer and closer to my father--even as dementia robbed him of his storytelling glory days. There isn't a day when a song doesn't play that reminds me of him, whether I'm hearing it in real time or it's just playing in my head. And as far as Elton John is concerned, maybe my dad softened his opinion after he came to accept my being gay. I'll never know.
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