Though he never had a lesson, a coach, a tutor.. my Dad was the consummate showman. He could sing, dance, mime, play any instrument placed in his hands .. by ear. OH yes, he also knew how to fly a plane.
He passed away when I was sixteen going on seventeen. My sisters were fifteen and eleven. My mother, thirty-five. His death was sudden, we were traumatized. Somehow with the support of family, we survived, and eventually thrived.
We were a musical trio of sisters. Singing, playing instruments (flute, clarinet, oboe) .. I might add here, our talent was passed down from our Dad .. (Mother readily admitted she could not carry a tune in a bucket.) We learned how to harmonize to "perform" in our car on drives with our parents. I can still see Daddy smiling broadly as he watched in the rear view mirror .. barely able to contain his pride. Teresa Brewer, the Andrew Sisters, the McGuire Sisters influenced every nuance of our musical personas.
Today all these decades later, I remember him with love, respect, gratitude and enormous pride .. I am my father's daughter.
missing you today
thankful for the years we had
countless gifts you shared
Dearest Helen,
ReplyDeleteWhat a wonderful tribute to your oh so talented Dad and you inherited his genes—there is no doubt about that.
You certainly made him proud many times and still—his soul will enjoy every word!
Hugs,
Mariette
I remember 'The Andrew Sisters' , and particularly 'The Barry Sisters'.
ReplyDeleteHow wonderful Helen! Talents are bestowed or acquired. But to be blessed for any three together in a performing group is truly a blessing. You must have been really proud and lucky to have such a talented dad!
ReplyDeleteHank
Beautiful.✨
ReplyDeleteHow lovely that you got those years, and how great to be able to have so much music growing up
ReplyDeleteEnjoyed the old song and your musical memories!
ReplyDeleteBeautiful, beautiful tribute, dear Helen. I have tears in my eyes as I read it.
ReplyDeleteThanks for honouring your father's memories through this prompt. Sending you warm hugs.
Father daughters have a special relationship, not viable with the boys. Mrs. Jim's dad died when she was seven, her sister was eight. Their new stepfather was a cowardly monster. My older daughter is in Ecuador, she may live there. Right now, she is there getting cheaper implants, but she likes it. She became widowed by heart weakness and the COVID. Mrs. Jim's sister died then, as did her sister-in-law. Widowers not adapting too well as of yet. Mom died when she was 88, Dad lived to 97. He and I weren't appreciative of the other, he bullied me badly, with his fists. Got along well with my sis.
ReplyDeleteNice write, why not list it with the Friday bunch? BTW, I'm writing some for NaPoWriMo this year but mostly for weekends, these poems.
My bedtime but will peek at the Muse prompt pictures and sleep on them.
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