I consider myself really lucky that I have a wonderful relationship with my Dad. We’ve gotten over those angsty teenage years and emerged great friends. Anchoring our bond through it all is our shared loved of music.
I thought about this a couple of weekends ago when I headed to the Hunter Valley for the inaugural Jazz in the Vines festival. We listened to the oldie songs on Newcastle community station 2NUR on the way up in the car, then shared our love of jazz standards and soul classics during the show. A few hours later we drove home with more music on the car stereo, before spending the evening chatting and gabbing over more tunes.
In the comfort of my parents’ home, Dad was in his element. He had his shiny new stereo and his record collection, because he swears that vinyl sounds better than a CD ever will. I tended to agree with him as I listened to the likes of Melanie Safka and Linda Ronstadt and Dad gushing over how beautiful and talented these ladies both were. I’ve lost count of the number of times he’s remarked at the cleverness of the lyrics of “Brand New Key,” but I don’t mind agreeing with him every time.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad I’ve got my own life now with my own home and a husband. When we see too much of one another, I’m very glad of that. But I also consider myself pretty lucky that I can take a weekend to go home and bond with the old man over some incredible tunes.
Image source: own photo