A father’s legacy, a love of music

My father, a barber who stood on his feet five days a week, relaxed on Sundays to the mellow voice of Perry Como, also a barber. Dad placed his album on the turntable, picked up his pack of unfiltered Camels from the coffee table, and laid down on the sofa.

Dad balanced his record collection with the likes of George Gershwin’s “Rhapsody in Blue” and “An American in Paris”. That’s when he permitted my sisters and me to hold hands and dance to the dramatic rhythms, twirl one another.

When Dad turned on our tiny television for the Perry Como Show, my sisters and I gathered with him in the living room. I liked Mr. Como’s soothing voice.

Later, in the early Sixties, “Sing Along with Mitch” aired on television. Again, Dad laid on the sofa with his cigarettes. My sisters and I sat on the floor and watched men sing.

I once heard my father say to a relative, “I don’t like long-hair music.”

An Appalachian girl transplanted to Detroit, home of Motown’s Stevie Wonder, Four Tops, and Supremes, I didn’t know what Dad meant by long-hair music. Then, in fifth grade, I met Sandy Bianchi. A neighbor, she once said her father listened to “classical music.”

So, that’s what Dad meant by long-hair music. A teenager, I’d become familiar with Beethoven’s famous “Fifth Symphony”, and Handel’s “Messiah”, and sensed a quality in the music that soared beyond entertainment.

My father didn’t know what he was missing.

This Christmas season, the first without my husband of fifty-four years, I’ve soaked my soul in the wondrous promises Handel wove within his masterpiece. While I decorated the Christmas tree several weeks ago, Handel inspired me with the joy and hope of the Christmas message.

God with us. Hope of the world.

And of all kindnesses, a friend invited me to join her and her husband to the Fort Street Chorale performance of the “Messiah” in the Jefferson Avenue Presbyterian Church in Detroit.
Oh, what glory to join my friends amongst a host of strangers within that remarkable, historic sanctuary. An ancient, silent pipe organ reached the ceiling as a backdrop to the choir.

Indeed, we like sheep have all gone astray. Indeed, no matter what the news may report, no matter what laws our government may determine, no matter our sin, our Lord God omnipotent reigns.

He forgives.

He shall reign forever and ever.

Since that evening on Jefferson Ave, via my computer, I’ve listened to this glorious refrain performed by various choirs the world over.

Yesterday, as I at last baked my daughters’ favorite cookies and wrapped Christmas presents, I hummed Handel’s “Hallelujah” chorus to Cuddles and Mittens, my two cats. My steadfast companions, particularly at mealtime.

You see, dear Reader, unbeknownst to my father, he granted me the love of classical music. And I prefer to believe he’s pleased with his second born of five daughters.

I believe he’s with me in spirit, as is George Frideric Handel.

Contact Iris at irisfarmletters@gmail.com