Remembering my Father
I’m sitting here working on the last page of episode 6 jamming out to a playlist the great and glorious algorithm found for me. I had bought a new set of headphones so I wouldn’t disturb my sleeping cat while I worked and I started thinking of my father. My Dad was an eccentric man to say the least, he had the weirdest taste in music (Polkas, Disco and Led Zepplin where a typical mix for him) and loved wearing miss-matched clothing, and making random sounds because, why the hell not. At the end of the day after work my Dad would come home and head to his room to listen to music that only he liked. He had these giant chrome headphones he’d wear, they had dual volume control on each gigantic silver, half-sphere earphone. I’m sure at the time it was a kool feature to have as far as headphones go.
He’d listen for hours, reading from the backs of the huge assortment of vinyl LP’s he had as he listened to each record. My Dad loved to dance, but he was like an engineer when learning new steps, much to the annoyance of my Mom who really just wanted to move with the music. My Dad on the other hand had to work out each step in the dance, get the sequence down and practice, practice, practice. I remember him, many times cajoling my Mom into practicing their steps in the kitchen at the most inopportune times. My Mom, always the practical one wanted nothing to do with this. She’d relent eventually for a few steps then get annoyed with him for interrupting her cooking.
I always saw my Dad as a lonely soul, someone who didn’t quite fit into the world. He was with us, because he loved us, and wanted to do what was right for us; but I think he never really felt a part of this world. He lived in his head, with his music and his dreams. He’d try to reach out to the world and be a part of it, but the world didn’t seem to understand him very well. I know I certainly didn’t.
The older I get, I notice I’m more like my Dad than I realized. I wish I could reach out to tell him I understand him better now, that I love him and I miss his strange, eccentric, sometimes annoying, but always loving ways. I wish I had expressed that to him while he was still with me.
My new headphones sparked this memory of my Father, he passed away too young. I imagine he’d love all the different ways he’d be able to listen to music today.
So I’m thinking of my Dad today; as I also live in my own head, working on a story, reaching out to the world, that I don’t think I feel a part of; but I’m doing my best to be here; even if I don’t really understand it all that well.
DR
This was such a wonderful sharing, Scott. I feel him in a fuller way through your refections.