My Father's Music

"My Dad, My Best Friend."nature.
You did not need to know my Dad very long at all toDad's true music extended beyond the harmony and
know that he loved music. So much so that when wemelody of notes and lyrics. The real masterpiece of his
finally bought a karaoke machine, probably some timemusic was demonstrated in how he combined a joyful
in the early 80's, tapes of Chet's Original versions ofthankful spirit and tremendous courage while exhibiting
various artists songs were littered all over the housean ability to love his family unconditionally.
and his Buick LeSabre. You could not get in his car forFor all of my five decades my father's music provided
any length of travel without Dad popping a tape in thestructure and at times sustained me. My father's music
cassette player and asking "who do you think thecrescendoed throughout my youth and echoed into
singer is?"...my adulthood. The fundamental values...such as
Most folks were pleasantly surprised to discover ithonesty, industry, courage, resilience, and tolerance
was not the well known balladeer they guessed butwere the cadence and beat he instilled to accompany
was really Chet, Sr. Though, I must admit at least onwhatever music I was to create.
one occasion when a grandson was asked who theyOn August 27, 2005, after a long courageous battle
believed the singer was the reply was..."I do not knowagainst emphysema my father's music was silenced.
but he is not very good is he?". This left my dadAs I waited for the hospice staff to perform their
unperturbed and with another good story to tell.postmortem tasks I removed the oxygen mask that
My father was always singing...he wrote and sang thehad tethered him to the life giving apparatus for more
lyrics to the 1947 Ashley High School graduating classthan a half decade. I laid my head on his barrel chest
song and sang at weddings alongside the polka/rockand knew his soul was singing somewhere in a better,
wedding band de jour at the request of familycelestial choir.
members. He tried his hand at MCing mostly I supposeMortality has a way of casting a veil over even the
to satisfy his need to get his music out and of coursemost optimistic souls and the grieving process provides
he sang at churches loud enough to drown out Momlittle room for hope. Even with this my father's music
and others who were self admitted listeners versuswas never so alive or forceful as it was at his funeral.
singers.Person after person approached our family with
Mostly my Dad sang at home.....from early in thestanza after stanza, tune after tune of their own
morning when homemade lyrics sprung from his lips toversions of my father's music.
late in the day when his favorite classics wereThere was the federal judge who in tears explained
reproduced to calm his mind from our busy, crowdedthat my father's intervention had provided second
house and as fatigue settled in from toiling at two -chances to scores of teenagers who became
three jobs.successful adults. The young man that told of my
It was at these times without the taped backgroundfather's kindness and courage as he chaperoned a
music of the karaoke or the organ music of theyoung family in and out of the projects so they could
sanctuary that my father's true music came forth. Thesafely reach their church or purchase groceries. And
acapella songs that spontaneously erupted as hethere was the doctor whose son had become a
prepared a family meal, whether playfully as a ditty orproductive adult because my dad intervened at a
teasing one of his grandchildren about a potential lovecritical juncture in his life to help him regain his footing.
interest, the music had a unique sound of its own. TheCountless others shared memories that sounded in
tempo of his music provided the beat of the house. Noperfect accord with the notes imprinted on my life.
matter what the circumstances or how tenuous theyI am unsure what quality and quantity of my music I will
maybe Chet's music overshadowed them and set theleave for my loved ones. I am painfully aware of my
household equilibrium in perfect balance.shortcomings but the other day one of my children
Now I am unsure if Dad intentionally deflected thesaid something that fanned the flames of hope when
anxiety, fear, dread or other feelings that naturallyshe said her Uncle, my youngest brother was a lot like
occur in the course of a families existence by hisme because he sang all the time.... especially in the
music or whether the music simply sprang from somemorning.
inner fire that was stoked by his extroverted, creative