I think about you most when I’m listening to music; cheap trick, deep purple, cream, ELO, CCR, ACDC, Van Halen, Eric Clapton. I hear you sing tiny dancer off-key, drink in your hand. Drumming on couch cushions and turning up the volume as you empty and refill your glass. We were the wild ones once, the free birds, the rolling stones, Layla, and the 4 non-blondes.
We sang at the top of our lungs until dawn most nights. Feeling more wide awake with each song change in your six-disc CD changer. I remember the first time I was allowed to use your stereo. I was so proud. No one else could touch it but I could. I’d load the CD’s and wait to hear the familiar words of our favorites, “don’t stop believin'”, “life is a highway”, “hit me with your best shot”. Increasing in volume as the snow fell outside. Sometimes you’d make me hot cocoa. When I got older you’d let me drink a beer like it was no big deal.
You’d have parties but it wasn’t the same as when it was just you and me, we connected when it was just us. You’d tell me about the songs, the people who wrote them. The scandals and the parties. The things you did when you were young and your memories associated with those songs. That’s where my love of words started, it was with music.
With your parties, I became just another kid and you were just my dad, but when it was just us we lit up the street with that music. Magic carpet rides and the cat and the fiddle. As I grew up people were always surprised that I knew the music I knew. Word for word I could recite those songs like bible verses. I guess I should thank you for that. You did one thing right after all…
“Today’s music ain’t got the same soul I like that old-time rock and roll.”