today is my dad's birthday. i would post it on his facebook page, but a) he doesn't have one, and b) probably wouldn't be checking it daily like the rest of us do, although c) it sure does warm the heart to see that a gazillion of your friends (in a variety of circles) all jump on and send their best wishes in your direction. i certainly appreciated it this summer when i spent my birthday checking out of a scuzzy hotel, driving a u-haul across wyoming for six hours, starting up a vocal jazz ensemble, and then finding out later that my grandma died. day one of my new year sucked.
people often ask me where i got my musical talent. i have no idea. my dad is definitely not a music guy. he is a retired feeder driver for ups, ruling the roads in his brown uniform for 36 years. that's a long time to do anything. so far, all i've done for 36 years is breathe. dad played the tuba back in high school, but he tells me it's because he was the only kid in his class strong enough to carry it around.
this jimmie giles is not my dad.
my dad is tone deaf. he arbitrarily moves his voice up and down when singing a church hymn. i stand next to him and try to match up with his crooning. we bust up laughing every time, but tone it down when my mom shoots the daggers at us. he doesn't really listen to music either. on summer vacations, the soundtrack to our road trips was a mix of bill cosby comedy albums and bruce williams financial advice talk shows that my dad taped from the radio. my sister and i sat in the back seat, our eyes glazed over, our brains chewing on a mixture of interest rates and chocolate cake.
my dad came to as many of my activities as he could. he worked nights, so he would need to leave in the bottom of the 5th, between the 3rd & 4th tunes, before act III. he is not artistically inclined, but is definitely a dedicated supporter of me and the rest of our family. he came to a jazz band concert in the summer of 2000, and we (along with my girlfriend sonja) later went out for dinner at the ground round. i asked him if he liked the show, and he told me "no" without hesitation. eek. i asked him why, and he told me that he didn't enjoy it because it looked like i wasn't enjoying it. what a great lesson for me to learn - know your audience. folks who come to shows listen with both their ears and eyes. i preach this to my students, and cite that experience with my father. don't be phony about your actions, but expect that those in attendance are watching your every move.
simon, dad, and me - after we chopped down a tree with an axe
i've got pretty decent ears and an active imagination, neither of which i can credit directly to my pops (ok nature vs. nurture argument. ready, set, go!!!) however, my dad passed along these life lessons; love your family, figure out that the amount of work you put into something is what you can expect to get in return, pinch pennies, hold the door, take pride in what you have, and care about other people.
keep singing these virtues to me, dad. they might be a bit out-of-tune, but i promise i hear every word.
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