20
Jun

Residual Father's Day Thoughts

What a wonderful day! I got to be alone at home for a little while, carving in wood out in the sunshine. I played some guitar. I played my Dad his song. I realized something.  For a long time, I wondered if he would be proud of me. I realized I don't care anymore. Atlas has shrugged and the world is off my shoulders.

My daughter came and made "mandatory chicken," a dish she made in my lonely house after they moved out so many years ago now. I had some chicken and all three kids were visiting for the weekend. She was just a tiny teen, but she made dinner (I think she was just hungry) with what I had in the house. It became a staple as they grew and as she grew her own family. It has fed many a wayward waif, as she has "adopted" as many local kids as we have over the years. She has such a good heart and with a houseful you make do. Mandatory chicken.

I talked with her and with my boys on the phone and texting - all of us laughing together and telling dad jokes. One son has a life-changing job opportunity and the other is contemplating moving back from Hawaii. Both would make me really happy. So I drank wine and ate like I was young again.

Residual Father's Day Thoughts

My annual Father's Day post has nearly 300 comments and well over two hundred people listened to my song somewhere in the world that day.

There are 10,080 minutes in a week.
In the last 7 days I have had 14,429 views of my videos.
Mostly videos of me, some I made of others...mostly music I wrote...more than a view every minute.
Nearly 3 million total views and thousands of subscribers there and across the net.
I have written hundreds of songs and have had two fairly successful CDs and have sold them around the world.
I've been on the radio here and in other countries and my music is included in a BBC4 documentary and a children's book.
I have played music with icons in the industry and have been really lucky to call some of them friends.

My Dad bought my first guitar for me when I was 3 - a toy - then a real one at 4. He played piano fairly well and wrote his own beautiful songs (I found out much later in life). It was he who got me to love music and the guitar in particular. He gave me classical guitar lessons when I was 5, along with a handmade flamenco guitar from Spain.

Then he left. He said, "I'll see you Sunday," and he never came back.

(We found him later, new family, blahblahblah, shot dead by Las Vegas PD after robbing a bank.)

Whatever..
It was he who gave me music and for that I am forever grateful. I have shared his gift, professionally and personally, with literally millions of people over the years and I've taught literally hundreds of kids, and nearly as many adults, how to play.

I'm done wondering if he would be proud of me.



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