I grew up on a steady diet of guitar solos and reverberated drum beats.
Some of my earliest memories are my introductions to bands such as Van Halen, Journey, The Eagles, REO Speedwagon, Chicago, Toto, etc. You name it, and my dad had a greatest hits CD. Wherever we were, my dad always seemed to have something to share.
Many of the bands from this era of music didn’t sink in as some of my favorites until later in my life, but I realize now the impact they had on me.
Not to get too sentimental, but music really does shape us into the people we are. It affects how we view the world, how we view other people and how we view ourselves. For me, all of these views were affected by the music my dad shared with me.
Naturally, music was one of the ways I bonded with my dad. The music he shared was a way for me to understand what he felt, and ultimately, understand what I felt.
It allowed me to view my dad as someone other than my dad for just a minute.
When I listen to my dad’s music, I can see a 14-year-old, jean-shorts-clad version of him lying on his bed with his chin in his hands staring wistfully at a Linda Ronstadt poster. Or I see a 17-year-old him, driving his 1980 Dodge Omni too quickly down a dusty country road, giving my grandparents gray hairs in the process. I can see him and my mom on their first date when they were barely older than I am now.
I think most of us would agree that when a person shares their music with you, they share a part of themselves. They share a glimpse of what makes them tick.
When my dad shared a song or an album with me, he wasn’t just saying, “I love this music enough to share it.” He was saying, “I love you enough to share it.”
My dad taught me a lot of things through example: how to work hard, how to use my brain when it would otherwise be easier not to, but one of the most important things he taught me was how to share. And not just how to share my things, but how to share myself.
When it comes down to it, I don’t really view it as my dad’s music anymore. I view it as mine. And sharing it means sharing myself. Not everyone’s going to like it, but it still deserves to be heard.
So, in the spirit of sharing, here are some of my dad and I’s favorites: Bruce Springsteen, Fleetwood Mac, and Air Supply.