[My dad, ever the English teacher, enjoys anecdotal stories more than any gift. Well, that and hearing/seeing his three kids sing and play instruments together. Here's a little of both for his birthday]
Take a load off Fanny...
You're my blue sky; you're my sunny day...
No, no, no, it ain't me, Babe...
I can't see me lovin' nobody but you for all my life...
Lord, I was born a ramblin' man...
You can't always get what you want...
Let it be, let it be...
Such was the soundtrack of my childhood. Dad would be in the kitchen with his patriotic apron singing into his spoon/microphone as he whipped up a batch of snickerdoodles or beef stew or "meat, corn, and potatoes." I've often wondered how the three of us kids could've ended up so musical when our dad's musical prowess didn't make it past the kitchen or the confines of the van (with a good ol' tape deck). Two things come to mind: we were around music and we were supported in our musical endeavors.
Music, from the Byrds to Bob Dylan to Buddy Holly to the Beatles, filled our home. It was the marriage of Mr. Tambourineman and Mrs. Robinson. Dad was a teen during the 60's and finished college in the 70's, and, as a family, we never really moved on to anything from the 80's or 90's. This lines up with what the New York Times found when they analyzed Spotify data: the songs you like as a teen set your musical tastes as an adult. Dad belted out the tunes; we sang along. I still remember many of the lyrics -- the nostalgia runs deep. Being around music doesn't in and of itself lead to becoming a musical person, but it definitely set the foundation for us.
Rock 'n Roll wasn't our only influence. The other way Dad created an environment of music was by writing songs to the tunes of hymns. I still remember how he changed the words of "Joyful, Joyful, We Adore Thee" to "Marsha, Mommy, we adore you, wonder of the Kinser clan." He even created two musicals with other hymn-tune-adaptations and witty lines to bring the narratives of Genesis to life. We have a video of us singing "O Come, All Ye Faithful," one of Dad's favorite Christmas carols (and he insisted we learn and sing all the verses).
When it came to learning an instrument, that was more down Mom's alley. She has played the organ at our church since she was a teenager. Dad was more of an air guitarist (especially in the kitchen as he danced around belting out "Like a rolling stone" pronounced just like Bob Dylan did it). Still, he supported us as we showed interest in playing "real" instruments. We all began with piano but eventually all added guitar (Jon's purple electric as a 7th grader was the gateway for all of us). We all joined band class (Matt on saxophone, Jon on percussion, me on trumpet), which turned into nine straight years of marching band.
How did Dad support our musical endeavors? Let me count the ways...
- paying for music lessons (and driving Jon a half hour away for guitar lessons because that's where the best teacher was),
- buying instruments to add to our growing collections,
- being a proud member of the Pit Crew (he had a shirt made that said "My job's the pits"),
- writing articles for the local newspaper about our marching band performances,
- supplying Pez pick-me-ups for us and our friends after long practices,
- dealing with the noise and unpleasantness of practice times (the drum set in the garage had to have been annoying at times),
- showing up at our concerts, gigs, performances, and recitals over the years (and still to this day! He loves making the drive to watch Matt play in any venue).
I don't know if Dad had the foresight decades ago to know that his investment would lead to songwriters of his own who matured from "We are the Lundquist brothers" to "Sunny Day Blues" and from "I Love to Paint" to over 300 Scripture songs to help kids and adults memorize Bible verses. Who would have thought that he would have one son still happily playing gigs in his 40s, another son who studied classical guitar at the collegiate level, and a daughter who taught music at a Christian school for four years? One of the greatest results of Dad's investment, though, is that whenever the three of us siblings get together, music is involved. Our styles and preferences and abilities may vary, but we enjoy jammin' and improvisin' and harmonizin' together. If that's the end-in-mind I want for my own boys, I need to follow Dad's model of having music in the home and supporting their musical endeavors.
A year ago, we couldn't get together to play and sing in person, so we decided to put together a quarantined song for Mom's birthday (and surely, she's part of our musical heritage, too). After the fun of that, we thought we'd do one for Dad's birthday, too. When Matt e-mailed me his rendition of "The Weight," I was afraid that the song would be unfamiliar. It may be called "The Weight," but I know it better as the "Fanny" song -- one of many that Dad sang from the kitchen. It's about taking the load off someone else and carrying it ourselves. Dad carried many-a-load for us over the years to set the foundation for three lifelong musicians. Thanks, Dad! Here it is (with my inspiring performance on the toy shakers and with a cameo at the end from the next generation of musicians in the family line):
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