My father passed away on September 19th, 2008. His chemo was winning the battle against cancer, but God had other ideas. I'm very thankful for my dad, and all he did for me. I am also thankful that he did not have to suffer. I'll miss him very much!
It has been said that I received any musical talent that I may have from my father. He could play the banjo by ear, and he certainly enjoyed picking and grinning in the evenings. What I learned in talking with friends and family at his wake was that Dad also played the guitar in years past. Mom said that he just enjoyed the banjo better, so that is what he played. Sometime last year or so, (I don't remember when exactly) Mom and Dad were on the way to see us. While they were on their way, Mom and Dad stopped in Maggy Valley, North Carolina for a romantic, bluegrass stop (if there ever has been such a thing.) They went to see a concert by Raymond Fairchild, my dad's favorite banjo picker. Mom had Raymond autograph the head on Dad's banjo, and he cherished that until he died. He brought it up to show it to me and boy was he tickled.
Dad was almost always there with us in the band. Sometimes work would keep him away, but nine out of ten times, he was there. He volunteered with our friend Pool to work the U-Haul for all the High School marching band trips. He always wanted to be involved with his boys. We played together a time or two, but let's face it; a trombone and a banjo don't mix well.
Last Christmas I asked Mom and Dad for a music stand. I don't think either Mom or Dad were keen on the idea of me becoming a musician (remember, at the time I wanted to be a player only, teaching had not entered the fray yet) but Dad went and bought the stand for me anyway. I think he understood better than Mom what music means to me. After all, he was a musician too. I hope he enjoyed my music. As a child, one of the songs I sang from Hoedown to Hog Day (If you live near Caswell County, N.C., you know what I am talking about!) was a song called "Daddy's Hands." I have a recording of that on tape, and forgot to bring it to the funeral. The recording is me singing it at the ripe ole age of what... 9? Anyway, Mom's cousin Teri was supposed to sing it. But, the CD didn't play. Both Teri and Steve, the sound guy at church, laughingly blamed Dad for playing a trick on everyone at his own funeral (after the fact of course.) I blame a bad CD and an old CD player. But if Dad DID have a hand in it, I think he was saying something else. He must have been saying "That's nice and all, but I want my Boy to play it or sing it." Anyway, the music marches on. Thanks for everything Dad!
