The Sound of Music

It is not a movie about a flibbertigibbet named Maria. It is melodies and harmonies moving up and down in sine waves of ecstasy. It reaches my ears and instantly vivid memories are placed in front of me like a picture book.

I can hear the trumpet pulsing along, driving the song with each push of its valves. It is my father. He is playing to scripture songs during a worship service. I am three, perhaps four, but I understand its beauty. I cannot hear the drums nor the guitar, only the piano and the trumpet dueling for supremacy.

I wanted to be like my father. Nothing has changed, inside I still want to be the man I perceive him to be. I wanted to play the trumpet. I received a toy one that broke right away. It said made in Taiwan on its sad plastic brow. I wanted a real one, a brass one, but we could not afford it. His instrument was borrowed and his time of playing was numbered.

Later I found out that he was an accomplished player in high school. He was offered second seat in a fledgling symphony orchestra, but turned it down. He declined because of me and mom, because of responsibility. His true love was not music it was us.

My father is like a spy. When he is questioned about his past he is often elusive and divulges only enough to further intrigue you. There was the time I asked what he did for work and he did not tell me. Later I found out he was protecting my pre-kindergarten ears from tragic and gruesome stories of medical rescues. It is as if he holds every memory as a precious secret and needs to make sure that those with whom he shares them will treasure them the same as he has.
In the world there are two positions we take. We are first listeners and then players. We hear the notes oscillating from their instruments as they reach our ears. Those notes form chords or patterns and those patterns form our lives.

For me, memories hold music. They are bard's tales and symphonies, pop songs and jingles. Some are epic and some I wish I'd never heard.

Next time you sit down and think about your life, think about it in song.

What is the music of your life? I know mine is still unfolding.