The music that makes up my childhood isn’t necessarily a reflection on my age. My father truly enjoys music and so many of my younger days were filled with songs from his own childhood and youth. He would regale my brother and me with facts and stories behind the artists or lyrics, which in all honesty I didn’t always appreciate. Why did I need to know that that song was written in 1968 or that this musician died tragically in a plane crash? It was just music.
Where there was frustration, there was also appreciation. Many of those songs are brimming with nostalgia for me now; a wistful longing, almost mourning, for days long gone. I also care a lot more about the people behind those songs than I did as a child.
My Dad got his first taste of working in radio through a Junior Achievement program when he was only fifteen. He later continued in that career, his booming voice announcing the next tracks, off and on for several years. As a little girl I remember being in awe of the radio station he worked for. All of those blinking lights, buttons and knobs, meant something to him. The walls lined with CDs were in perfect order for the one behind the booth. I would have been desperately lost. My favourite memory of my Dad’s time in radio was spending the night at the station, since my father had the overnight shift. I was quite young still but I recall falling asleep to the lights blinking above me.
Teaching is also a passion for my Dad; which looking back likely explains the music history lessons. He has stood before hundreds of students during my lifetime, regaling them with animated tellings of historical events. He has a much smaller class now. There are only two sets of ears listening intently as he teaches each week, but they belong to two very precious students.
Part of the beauty of homeschooling is making my own schedule and routine. So, I asked my Dad if he would like to teach a lesson each week to his grandchildren. Every Tuesday, my son and daughter make themselves comfortable on the couch, set up my laptop so they can make a video call to Grandpa and then they listen while he gives them a little background about the artist or year he is featuring that week. I sit nearby, poised with the remote so that I can play each video he’s queued up in the YouTube playlist he created just for these lessons. Some songs are hits with them, some aren’t. My son is a lot more obvious about his like or disdain of each son (like clasping his hands over his ears and grimacing), while my daughter is much more diplomatic. They do agree that they like their lessons with Grandpa, though.
Sometimes my Dad shares little bits about his own life, and why certain songs are especially meaningful to him. While it is intended for the children, I find I am drawn in too, wishing I had paid better attention as a little girl when he tried to share some of these stories about his younger years with me. My children are only nine and eleven themselves, so they don’t always appreciate these times as thoroughly as they might someday wish they had, but they do seem to recognize that this weekly lesson is more than just listening to music and trivia. They’ve heard old, crackling recordings of Grandpa on the radio, added some new-to-them music to the songs they ask me to play, and have had some great quality time with someone I wish wasn’t so far away. I’m thankful that technology has allowed us to connect with my Dad in this way and I pray that these weekly lessons will be a time my children look back on in the future with fondness.
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