my dad and music

driving to work today, i was listening to a song. it has strings like some smooth song from the 1970's. it was the type of song that made you want to tap your foot and let your ears enjoy the melody (because 70's music was all about the melody).

it also made me think about music and my dad. if do not know, my father had cancer when i was 8 and six year later died when i was 13. at the time i was not into music or film. i enjoy the outdoors and playing in the basement of our old massachusetts house.

in that basement, i used to find records that were my fathers from his younger days. he had queen, led zepplin and all the classic in vinyal. i remember as a kids driving in the car with him and he would turn up the radio. Jamming out to Queen's Bohemien Rhapsody i remember, it was the first time i heard the song, my father saying, "wait for it, wait for it" (then playing air guitar) and going to the stranger lyrics of the song. He knew all the lyrics. Every single one. It was always a strange sight to see because my father was a big time banker in Boston. He always wore a suite and tie to church and work. His casual clothes always seemed to have a collar on it and his mustache always trimmed.

Now, i wonder if David Loy would sit down and listen to music with me. I wonder if my dad would want to go to Josh Rouse or The National concert or be eager to know that i love Paul Simon's "American Tune". As i drove to work, I wonder if he would enjoy having conversations with me as a person. Would he randomly call me during the week and ask me questions about what is going on in my life. Would David Loy want to know if he would try to be one of my best friends. Or at least fly down and go to a Toad the Wet Sprocket concert.

I know these questions will probably never be answered. It makes me wonder about my kids and how they will want to see me as a father. I want to be a good father.

Lately, Andrew (my brother) has put together old family films of us. I watch my father as a ghosts in these films but the memories are very real. And I want to ask him he would enjoy listening to Damien Rice or Andrew Bird but no response. Then I think about a story my mom likes to tell me about one of their first dates together. They drove 30 minutes in the snowy plains to go see Fleetwood Mac and Three Dog Night at Westminister College. Maybe these stories and memories are conversations that i long for.