My dad has a massive collection of vinyl.
I remember discovering this collection in our basement when I was 11. We just moved into another new house and I was hanging out, pre-friends, with nothing to do and I stumbled upon about 3,000 records. I eventually figured out how to play these "records" and spent hours and hours in our basement playing Elton John (Goodbye Yellow Brick Road"), the Jimi Hendrix Experience, The Who, Bread, Deep Purple, Black Sabbath, The Beatles (he owns every single Beatles record ever made and several singles) The Rolling Stones, Billy Joel (same thing as The Beatles, the man owns. every. thing.) The Beach Boys (Pet Sounds, among with several other albums, Pet Sounds is by far their BEST ALBUM), The Eagles (again, owns. every. single. album), Simon and Garfunkel and even Paul Simon solo (Graceland, Still Crazy After all These Years) Chicago, and Crosby, Stills, and Nash (pre and post Young). There were several others but these are the ones I mainly remember.
I was immediately sucked into the world of music. My dad discovered me, late into the evening, hunched over his record player, covered in album covers. I was hooked on music and it only took one day. The White Album had this incredible pic of Paul McCartmey in it. I stole it from my dad and taped it to the wall of my room. I grabbed another one for my binder at school.
I thought he'd be pissed that I uncovered his collection. But he wasn't. He grabbed an album and slid right next to me on the carpet. And we stayed there for what seemed like hours. He said he bought the top ten albums every month from the time he was in high school to now. And he told me stories about each and every album:
"This was my first concert..." he said. He held up Elton John's self-titled debut album.
"I was 22 years old...he came to my college campus."
My dad traveled a lot when I was growing up. He sacrificed time with Andrea and me to make a great life for us, so I typically only saw him on the weekends and on holidays.
A few years later, when I was 15 years old, my dad got tickets to see Crosby, Stills and Nash, with Chicago as the opening act. I wasn't as into Crosby, Stills and Nash, but the look in my dad's eyes when he told me about this concert persuaded me to go. In fact, he didn't give me a choice. I was going.
So, we went. And it rained. There was a serious rain delay and the concert didn't end until 2AM. But guess what? We stayed for the whole thing. The rain soaked all of their electric equipment on stage, and they had to play every song acoustically. And after each CSN song, my dad would say...
"I just need to hear them play one more and then we can go...."
Well, that went on for 3 hours.
I remember everything about that show. I remember the wet seats. I remember the look on my dad's face when David Crosby started playing. And the roar of the applause after they played "Love the One Your With." You just don't hear concerts like this anymore.
Fast forward another 8 years and we are planning my wedding. Some women toss and turn over what song to pick for their father-daughter dance. For me, this was the easiest decision of the whole process. "Your Song" by Elton John had to be it. Every time I hear that song I am right back in the basement of our house on Willow Lake (my boys live just a few blocks from it now) listening to vinyl with my dad. So, that was our song; that was the dance. It was perfect.
Naturally, after the wedding, came the boys. (Not that kids come from weddings but you get it.) Brody has such an old little soul. When he was 20 months old, and in the beginning throws of his diagnosis, Matt turned on some Crosby, Stills and Nash for him. He was instantly soothed. His teachers at school also noticed that when classic or acoustic/melodies were playing, their therapies were more effective.
Once we realized Brody's intense love for classic rock, Matt brought out The Beatles, and Simon and Garfunkel. Same reaction. When "Our House," "Love the One Your With," "Mrs. Robinson" and "Cecelia" play in our house, he is transformed from a sometimes frustrated and angry boy into our little hippie...he's our free spirit again. I literally see a shift in his eyes when music is playing. He is back to focusing on what is really important, our world with us.
People, places and vinyl come into our lives for a reason. At age 11, something brought me into the basement, led me to my dad's record collection, and planted me next to that record player. Something made my dad buy those concert tickets. And something gave Brody his love for music, too. If I wouldn't have found that vinyl, I wouldn't have this connection with Brody. Or the ability to name a song title by hearing the first 3 seconds or first 2 chords (next time you see me, try it...).
I hope our love for music takes off with our kids and I hope one day, we are holding their hands, in the rain, waiting to hear just "one more song" before we leave.
