Skylar and Her Father Dancing to ‘Jingle Bell Rock’
My father and I shared the same musical taste and, as it turns out, much more.
“Chickity China the Chinese chicken / you have a drumstick and your brain stops tickin’ / Watching X-Files with no lights on …”
I freeze. I look toward my father, hoping he knows the next line, but he’s stuck, too.
“One more time?” he asks. I nod as he presses replay on the car stereo.
A big breath in and … “It’s been one week since you looked at me / cocked your head to the side and said ‘I’m angry,'” we sing in unison.
I’m nine years old, and we’re parked outside Baskin-Robbins because we’ve promised each other we won’t go inside until we nail this last Barenaked Ladies verse. I can’t remember if we ever actually figured it out, or if we even got the ice cream, but what I do remember is: That moment and that music were ours. READ MORE
Coaxed out of a deep slumber. A soft trumpet moaning out Reveille. But I am not a soldier in the barracks. I’m seven years old, snuggled in bed. This was Dad’s way of waking us up. And at bedtime, he played Taps.
My dad — the Music Man. He used music to speak, to teach, to show his love. I fondly remember dancing on the kitchen table as a toddler, Dad and I singing along to Bob Marley’s Buffalo Soldier.
He played trumpet as a kid, but eventually moved on to guitar. I still remember the first song he played for us, He’s Got the Whole World in His Hands. Over the years, Dad played many instruments (bass, drums, Native American flute, didgeridoo), but came back to the guitar later in life. READ MORE
Today’s story appeared originally in The Wall Street Journal. Barbara Corcoran spoke with reporter Marc Myers. Barbara and Marc kindly allowed Savvy Dad to share this story.
I know that I seem tough on TV’s “Shark Tank,” often tearing into business pitches, but deep down I’m really a softie. Growing up in Edgewater, N.J. in the mid-1950s with five sisters and four brothers, I loved listening to my father sing in the living room every Wednesday night with his barbershop quartet. The song he sang that touched me most was “Heart of My Heart.”
Barbara and her Dad
My father loved music more than anything else. A printing press foreman in Newark, N.J., he had taught himself to play guitar, piano and accordion. He also sang tenor with a group of guys he worked with and always sang at family gatherings. When I was about 5 years old, my father began singing “Heart of My Heart” each night to put us all to sleep. But since he couldn’t be in both the boys and girls’ rooms at once, he’d sing live in one and play a tape of him singing the song in the other. The next night he’d switch. READ MORE
Music. “Soul to the universe. Wings to the mind.” With Plato we agree.
Today our story is music in form. It’s quite a treat.
Perhaps a coffee or tea, a comfy chair, and put up those tired feet.
Now close your eyes and relax your mind.
One warning, a Kleenex you may need to find.
The Blind Man in the Bleachers by Kenny Starr.
One parting note to our dads out there…
“Your kids don’t care how tall you grow, how smart you appear, how much you weigh, or how well you tell jokes. They don’t care whether you play drums, shoot hoops or shoot guns. They just need to know you’re there.”
Kenny Starr (real name — Kenneth Trebbe), recorded with MCA Records in the mid-1970’s and was a member of Loretta Lynn’s touring band during much of that time. His hit song “The Blind Man in the Bleachers” was released in 1976 and reached #2 on the U.S. County Music Chart, #1 in Canada.