Hit Man

My dad has always had the best taste in music. Well, I had to learn that I guess. When I was 6 he got me a really cool cassette tape holder, but said it came with "strings attached." There must have been 30-40 slots for tapes, and in order to EARN it, I had to listen to enough music to fill half of those slots... oh and of course he'd provide the music. This is how I was introduced to the classics: Bach, Mozart, Vivaldi, Handel, Brahms, Tchaikovsky, oh and the list goes on. He'd take a friend and me to see Peter and Wolf at UCSC.
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He took me to my first concert when I was in junior high. He taught me to play Heart and Soul on the piano with him, and how to play it in more than one key to "take it up a notch." In New York when I was 10 we went to see Chorus Line and Cats. Then we'd get hooked on a song that was on the radio, go and buy the album, and listen to it over and over again, until Mom had to plead with us to just stop it. When I was home sick with the chicken pox he brought me my favorite album ever. (Can you guess??) He's the only one who will come listen to me sing at church, when we have a new song I'm really excited about or just because I ask.
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When I was little Dad would play the piano while I drifted off to sleep. Those are some of my fondest memories. He loved to listen to me play the piano too. He'd grab a book, or whatever he was sketching or studying and sit back and listen to me play. He was never harsh or condescending, always encouraging, always with a smile. "Meg, you don't need to rush through that piece. It's beautiful. Play it slow so I can hear ALL the notes this time." I fell in love with music because of him, all aspects of music: the beauty, the simplicity, the breadth, the feeling, the language, the love, and most importantly, music that is LIVE.
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Tonight I sit home watching, listening, feeling, loving what I'm hearing:

I soooo encourage you to rent/buy/borrow this DVD and be transported. It takes old and new songs, famous and just emerging stars, and it is BEAUTIFUL. Dad had a light in his eyes when he was telling me about it. How could I resist?

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I've been reminded recently that adults don't grow up knowing how to be adults. They kind of have to feel the way through I guess, trial and error. Some do better than others. Last night I was in bed, had just turned the reading light off, and was starting to nod off to sleep, and was thinking how great he is... I've been so blessed. I have the best dad ever, the most perfect dad for me. Then like it was audible: Tell Him.

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Oh my gosh. How have I come this far and not said these things to him? Life is so fleeting. So here I am, posting a blog about a great DVD: Hit Man- David Foster and Friends, which is great and all that. But let me tell you more about my dad... he is MY hit man, my rock, not just my source of strength, but the one who taught me to enjoy the little things in life, be good to yourself, how to love LOVE LOVE, and how to put one foot in front of the next, even when you don't think you can. Thank you, Daddy.