For better and for worse, brain affects mind—neurology influences our self-experience. It’s possible, dear Scott, that your Dad’s tumors enabled “softer” parts of himself to surface in his response to opera.
Given his time-in-history, given his family-development, and given gender stereo-types of our socio-cultural milieu (especially Italian-American culture), it’s possible—for many years of his life and like most heterosexual men of his generation—that he couldn’t allow open emotional expression of tenderness & vulnerability. It’s possible, dear Scott, that his tumors “dis-abled” those impediments; paradoxically, they freed him to reveal himself. It’s possible that you felt those softer parts of him even when they were denied & hidden, and weaved them into your own identity. It’s possible, Scott, that somewhere in his soul, unspoken parts of him were very comfortable with you, even years ago.
HIS song was YOUR song … the silent lyrics of unconscious communication between a father and his son. There’s a word for that. LOVE.
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This is a great article a pout the love of music which ran in
my family.
My grandma and grandfather were not music aficionados.
But my pop and his brothers and sisters brought home Sinatra,
Goodman,Miller after tours in World War II.
By the time I was seven, my grandma had one of those Motorola counsels that was eight feet long and 300 pounsds.
She had her Mexican Vicente Albums and my counsins and I would be sneaking in 45s with the Beetles, Ronnettts and
Little Stevie Wonder.
Oh what times!
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So many touching moments that deserve front page. We are so much more than we show on the outside. My Dad was born in the 1930's and left school in 9th grade. He fought in the Korean War and returned home to a painful attempt to have a family and keep a job. But, during the course of all he dragged me to record stores and brought home "Madame Butterfly" on a single disc, Mills Brothers and Dinah Washington. He asked me for library books about Van Gogh and Lautrec and the history of Opera. He loved Pavarotti and Corelli and died at 73 while singing "Beginning to See the Light". He gave me a bleeding heart and a passion for music but never a mention of fishing or baseball and almost no work ethic... This was my Dad.... “And I never started to plow in my life
That some one did not stop in the road
And take me away to a dance or picnic.
I ended up with forty acres;
I ended up with a broken fiddle—
And a broken laugh, and a thousand memories,
And not a single regret.”
― Edgar Lee Masters, Spoon River Anthology
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It's so sad that the author of this fine piece never developed a love for opera, like his dad. It would have enriched his life.
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Sometimes, even when you don't talk, you can still make a meaningful connection on a deeper level than you thought was possible. Music is a universal language and crosses barriers like age, religion and language.
I miss my Dad but every time I hear "Sin Ti" I'm brought back to the moment where I was sitting on the front porch with my Dad and he played that song for himself. I think I'll go play that song right now, ok Dad.
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I feel what it means for you to hear your fathers song .my mother gave me the text of an old German song and taught me the tune two days before my wedding . I am now 54 years married and have ever since carried her writing with me . Reading your story suddenly made me think of the day I leaned my song . Unfortunately I do not have an English translation for it .
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Thank you for a beautiful story.
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In tears reading this story and listening to Pavarotti sing Oh Holy Night - which conveys so much longing - this morning. Thank you for your generosity in sharing something so personal through your writing.
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I hope many Dads feel able to read this and can take something away. It’s a beautiful personal story, thanks Scott. All kids deserve some good parenting happening. I liked the Obama programme launched in 2014, “My brother’s keeper”, to revitalise young men of colour and the poor with no means. The messages were the same: adults have to find ways to connect so youngsters grow up fully fulfilled. New Zealand had “the good man project” by Celia Lashlie. Music can be the workable glue in relationships. Boys need attentive loving fathers to steer them into adulthood, not volumes of disappointment. Life has moved on towards greater personal freedoms. Masculinity also holds many aspects now, not least the respect for women and how to channel strength in society, not abuse it.
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Human beings are something to witness. Chasms deep and wide, misunderstandings, and then a connection.
Well done.
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My song with my dad came the day I said good-bye before he went on a respirator for the six weeks before we died. I can’t remember who how it started but we sang the song Irene, Goodnight to each other with emphasis on “I’ll see you in my dreams.” I rewrote the lyrics of the song with help from friends and it became a story about our lives together. I sang it at his funeral. Music heals.
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Almost poetic in its concision - a world and characters drawn successfully in a short column. Bravo!
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Beautiful, absolutely beautifully written story. Thank you for sharing that.
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My dad was a special person who bonded with my brothers over baseball and football but bonded with me over our shared love of classical music, art and nature. When he took me with him when he played golf, he never minded that I would catch snakes and toads, letting me bring them home in the golf ball pockets of his golf bag.
Dad’s respect, love, and interest in ALL his children was directly responsible for me growing up to be a well-rounded, well-adjusted and self-respecting gay man, and the acceptance of all my siblings and extended family.
I consider myself to have been so lucky to have had the parents I was raised by. I miss them terribly and in these awful political times, I miss my father’s wisdom, love and guidance.
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One of my best friends is gay and an umpire and hates classical music and is an amazing human being. Stereotypes are stupid. Should have told him you were gay a long time ago. Glad you eventually bonded. There is nothing wrong with fishing or baseball or opera or drama club or band or being gay or bi or trans or straight. These things are not mutually exclusive.
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@mikeWho can say the myriad of reasons that keep people silent with a parent. Should haves don't apply here.
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@mike --- true, there's nothing wrong with any of these things, but if the person you "should" be sharing them with thinks there is, then you have to think twice (or a million times) about the consequences of telling them. Will your father say "leave this house and never come back," even though there is nothing wrong with you? It's happened, and can be devastating whether you're 14 years old or 50.
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Just lost my dad last summer. In the weeks before he died, he loved falling asleep with his headphones on, listening to his favorite classical vocalists. I've found such consolation in listening to his songs.
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Heartwarming story.
But I’m so tired of these stereotypical categories that only hold interest for members of one sexual persuasion or another.
My father and I loved baseball and football. We also loved opera and Broadway and Barbra Streisand.
And neither of us was gay.
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Of course there are exceptions but, your personal anecdote aside, there is more than a grain of truth to these stereotypes, as a survey of any musical theater audience (and cast) will attest. I’m the only gay son of 5 boys and can relate to this story with uncanny detail.
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@David G --- to me, the author's gayness was only a part of the story. I read it more as being more about a lifetime of frustrated attempts to forge a father-son connection that both of them wished for but were unable to accomplish (I can only imagine the father's bafflement during his attempts to make friends with this child he'd created but had little in common with). There are lots of straight sons out there who could relate to this scenario, as long as they weren't distracted into thinking the sexual-orientation part was the main point of the story.
That said:
The sexual-orientation aspect can assume huge importance in that relationship, though: while we were watching TV coverage of the Three-Mile Island nuclear scare in 1979, my dad casually remarked: "That's what we should do with all the queers --- put them to work in nuclear reactors." I was 14 and newly awake to that side of myself; I realized that not only could I never tell him I was gay, but I would also have to hide everything about myself that *might* tell him I was gay. Any development of a father-son bond stopped that night: if we got close, he might find out. We maintained an outwardly respectful, arm's-length relationship from then on.
Of course, by that time he was already flummoxed by my failure to become an athlete, car-repair enthusiast, DIY home-repair guy, or extrovert, so I'm not sure how different things would have been if I'd been straight.
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What a beautiful story. Thank you for writing this.
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Beautiful story and wonderful writing.
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A lovely story - thank you for sharing a very poignant, personal story.
32
Thank you for this beautiful story. I know from experience that a late "connection" with a parent is better than none. I hope you continue to enjoy close relations with your mother and siblings.
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