So this started as a comment on Lindsey's postbut be came it's own monster.
Last Thursday I put on Joy to the World at a bar. I was out with Erika, Matt and J.P. (Amanda's brother). Things were on both extremes of bittersweet but even at the toughest of times that song can melt through my sorrow. If you step back just a bit you can hear him singing it. It almost brings a tear to my eye imagining the hapiness that was always so tangible in his voice. I wonder how many times he actually wanted to be singing that to us? It always felt like he wouldn't be anywhere else in the world.
Dang, songs our parents sang.
The only other song I remember Dad singing was fuzzy wuzzy and that mom wasn't sure he should be singing it.
Mom on the other hand has had no qualms with singing anything. It's kind of interesting because i hardly noticed her taking an interest in her own music for listening. Maybe she was more a child of tin pan alley than my father and grew up defining music instead of the other way around.
Looking back it's amusing to think of the stuff she would sing. A good amount, looking back, seems to be only portions of songs and talking to her now and then I've learned that this is all she knows and that really she's just made her version from her father's version or a snippet she heard on the radio once. I once looked up the song that goes "If I had the wings of an angel, over these prison walls I would fly"... she did it much better (even if only 1/3 of a chorus)
I sometimes wonder how much of the evening time experiences I had were as awesome as I remember or if it's just me placing severe nostalgia on a time that i look back on so happily. My guess is both but either way I'll always be grateful.
Some other songs:
All the pretty little horses
booomda boomda booomda sarah sponda
everywhere he went he did his war hoop
hung from a golden chain
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Boy was I surprised to go to camp and learn where mom found those songs.
There was the Dona Dona song and that other cowboy song. "way out west where the bad men are and the only thing to guide you is the evening star..."
I also think we listened to that Saturday evening post collection of records.
I know that I did what ethan did, so I was into billy joel, who I will still defend. How did the billy joel worship happen?
Something about the squeak of the formerly pink rocking chair and being able to look out the window and see the walnut tree while mom sang was always comforting.
P.S. Dad still allows me to call and force him to sing joy to the world when I am upset.
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