I like music. Simple. All kinds of music. Without a doubt, I can blame it on my parents, and I didn’t need to spend six months with an overpriced therapist.
So many of my childhood memories involve music. I remember singing Tiptoe through the Tulips by Tiny Tim as loud as we could driving down the road. My parents weren’t snobs about their music either. We listened to 50s and 60s, old country troubadours, gospel, classical, and of course The King.
From what I can remember, some of my father’s favorites were The Platters, Charlie Pride, Elvis Presley (the aforementioned King), Tammy Wynette, Ronnie Milsap, and Merle Haggard. My mother liked the Oak Ridge Boys, The Beach Boys, the Kingsmen Quartet, and Elvis also. Mother had a record player where she could stack up to 10 albums, and music would fill our home.
I remember laughing and acting silly singing Mississippi Squirrel Revival by Ray Stevens and Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer by Elmo Shropshire. Dad had put an 8-track in their old 1968 Plymouth Belvedere, and we wore out his Funny Bone Favorites. I can still sing along with so many of the songs: Along Came Jones by The Coasters, Stranded in the Jungle by The Cadets, and May the Bird of Paradise Fly up Your Nose by “Little” Jimmy Dickens.
Of course, they didn’t like some of the music I chose to listen to as I got older. However, I do remember listening to the soundtrack from the movie Blade Runner, and they came into my room with concerned looks on their faces. One More Kiss, Dear by Vangelis was playing. Another time was after I brough home a tape of Mozart’s Requiem and played it as loud as I could.
Music has filled our lives. As my mother lay in hospice and took her last breaths, we played music for her. Though she never opened her eyes those last hours, her lips sang with the songs several times. My youngest sister sang Patsy Cline’s She’s Got You for a pageant (that she won). My wife watched the video of it and thought she was incredible.
A few years later, we ate at a little café in Branson, Missouri. They had a jukebox. So, I played the song and asked my wife if she knew it. She smiled and nodded, saying, “This is the song your sister sang. But who is this? Your sister did it much better.” Many people would consider that sacrilege; however, they would be pleased to know that my wife is now an avid Patsy Cline fan.
My own tastes are varied. I love Johnny Cash, Manowar, Metallica, Mozart, Prince, Violent Femmes, Billy Idol, Brandenberg’s Concertos, Depeche Mode, Moby, Ella Fitzgerald, Dropkick Murphys, Lana Del Rey, Rend Collective, and Nine Inch Nails to name a few. But my all-time favorite musician has to be Annie Lennox. I remember the first time I heard her croon Sweet Dreams back in 1983, I fell in love.
My wife and I have seen 3 Doors Down, Mumford and Sons, and Thrill Kill Kult in concert. And I have passed my love for music down to the next generations. Our children and I go to concerts together. We have seen Billy Idol, Disturbed, Rob Zombie, Alice Cooper, Megadeath, and Five Finger Death Punch to name a few. Now, my granddaughters also love music.
When I walk in with a new purchase, they will look up at me and ask, “Are we going to dance now, Pappy?” Yes, we are. Because that is what life is about. Dancing to the music.
