Immersed in all
things "The Journey" while editing the "10 Year
Anniversary Show" I get the newsletter from my
father that a new entry is up on his
blog. I'm
posting it in its entirety:
The Battle of the
Bands is in two weeks.
It’s a big deal:
TV, radio and newspaper coverage, a live
recording featuring the top five bands on
a two-disc LP and all-but-guaranteed
additional bookings.
You’ve been
saving money from your after-school job
for nearly a year, working for $1.45 an
hour. You need $995. You know it will add
a new dimension to the band’s sound
and could certainly help in this contest.
You have it on lay-a-way, but it
won’t be paid off in time for the
“battle.”
There’s
only one thing you can do: ask
the music store owner to let
you use the electric piano
that afternoon and then return
it – something he has
never allowed with an item
this expensive. Because of
it’s popularity with
national groups like The Left
Banke and The Association,
it’s in high demand and
his is one of only three in
the entire state.
To your
complete surprise, he honors
your request.
After the event, you
go back to the store, excited to tell him
your band came in second place and came
close to garnering the top spot because
that band violated one of the rules and
was nearly disqualified. The owner smiles
warmly while you recap the day’s
events.
”Man, it
was incredible! There were so many
people! You should’ve been there!
It was great!” As you head out
the back door to bring in the keyboard,
you feel a tap on your
shoulder.
“Just take
it home with you and keep paying on it
like you’ve been doing. I know
you’re good for
it.”
“Really?
Thank you! Thank
you!“
“You’re
welcome. Oh, and by the way, I look
forward to seeing your band
again.”
“Again?”
“Yes,
again. I was there today. You guys were
great.”
The rest of the summer
is a whirlwind of engagements, local TV
show appearances and newspaper articles.
You’re having the time of your
life.
But then comes Fall
and with it, the start of another school
year.
It also means the 2nd
Annual Lecture on putting aside what
grown-ups are reluctant to even call a
“hobby.” This time, the lecture
comes from an uncle on your mother’s
side, who, for some inexplicable reason,
feels she needs his help raising
you.
He starts out with the
usual,
“It’s
time to put away the music and
concentrate on your
studies.”
This year, you decide
to disagree.
“I can do
both.”
“No you
can’t, and you won’t,”
he says, truly startled at your
opposition to his command.
“Playing music will get you
nowhere. You need to forget this
nonsense and bury yourself in your
schoolwork!”
Then comes the
”never-been-done-before” move:
you talk back to your uncle.
“I just
shelled out a thousand bucks on this
‘nonsense’ and I am not going
to forget about it for the next nine
months.”
You back up slightly
as the last words come out of your mouth.
In rapid-fire, non-cohesive - yet
seemingly rehearsed - verbal bursts, he
yells,
“What did
you say? You can’t talk to me that
way! How much? Does my sister know
about this?”
Feeling somewhat
confident that you weren’t going to
get knocked across the room, you only
answer the last question.
“Yup. Mom
was there when I bought
it.”
Now comes the other
lecture – the one where your mother
scolds you for talking back to an elder
and implicating her as a co-conspirator.
But after a few finger-pointing comments,
she finds humor in the
situation.
“You really
said that to him?” she asks,
starting to smile.
“Yeah. I
guess I should’ve kept my mouth
shut,” you admit, while
revealing a certain pride in your
“performance.”
Breaking into
laughter, she says,
“Yes, you
should’ve.” Then, with a
failed attempt at regaining her
“I’m-upset-with-you”
composure, she mumbles,
“Don’t let your grades
slip.”
She had a love for
dance, working her way through college
teaching at an Arthur Murray Dance Studio.
Her unrealized dream was to someday go to
New York and dance on Broadway. At seventy
years old, she still commanded attention
when she hit the floor.
Thanks for
understanding, Mom.
Sincerely,
I have to say,
other than my own offspring, I don't think I could
ever be more proud of inspiring someone. It's not
because I helped him set-up the site, or gave him some
of the technical know-how to do it. It's that in the
entire time he's followed "The Journey" there's always
been something I could never fully communicate to him
(or anyone, really); what it feels like to "tell your
story". I've watched him for nearly 8 months now go
through exactly what I went through with my site. This
transformation where you start to see what really
matters. Where you are able to go back through your
life and pinpoint moments that make you who you are.
It's a public way of "finding yourself" and I'm
watching him do it. He knows that when he's gone,
these are the words that will live forever. These are
the stories that will be told. It's a beautiful
discovery to watch someone else process. And, in a few
paragraphs about his mother, he said more about her
character and spirit than most in our family will have
ever had the opportunity to experience when she was
alive. Making those connections are so important.
Figuring out why you're wired the way you are... is
one of the greatest parts of life to me, and now
clearly to my father.
Throw-in what I'm
currently working on? And you can imagine how
meaningful everything is to me right now. The support
my grandmother gave my father touches me the same way.
She, along with my other grandmother Nana, helped Jess
and I tremendously in 2000 and without that help there
simply would not be this journey. It all comes full
circle. I adore this story he posted. It's like
this giant inspiration circle and reading it in the
midst of putting this show together is absolutely
perfect. This show is the epitome of "telling your
story" and you want so desperately to feel that it's
worth your blood, sweat and tears. I can unequivocally
say now, that it is.
