Recently writer and editor Mallory Ortberg asked her Twitter followers to give their best stories about “dad music”. I am guessing from the responses that most of her followers are millennials with fathers in their forties to fifties. Um, my age.
Me and my wife have no children that we know of. Hence no one will carry any significant memories of the music I played for my own entertainment, let alone torturing an adolescent and captive audience. If anything, I’m my wife’s captive audience. The ONLY time she listens to music in the house is this time of year when she’s in the kitchen (will you PLEASE play some Christmas music) or ambient music when she’s trying to sleep. In the car when we absolutely have to listen to her general mixture of 70s singer/songwriters, 60s folk, boy band dance pop, and 70s soft rock. Generally I can slip in one of my CDs after hearing about three of hers and it’s best if that CD is something she can tolerate. Given that I spend a good part of my day at my computer, playing what the hell I want I can tolerate this imbalance.
The dads in the link above are kind of disappointing. Me and a majority of my friends are not the kind of middle-aged men that settle into such a musical rut that only a few discs or tapes are ever played. Some of my best friends are like me, with tastes that cover numerous genres and are always, always, always looking for something new. And for crying out loud, not a single Tweet in that post mentioned Rush. I swear that every time I’ve been to a Rush show there’s been dads escorting their progeny. If there ever was a “dad rock” band it is the Three Gentlemen from Canuckistan.
I’ve vented a bit on this blog about the pain of cleaning up after deceased parents who were Depression kids. When I and my wife go, I presume that my niece and nephew will be left with the task and I am determined to make the job easy. That means at some point I’ll be getting rid of all my media. None of it will mean anything to these kids for they will have no memories to associate with it.
I’m OK with that. I’m not really concerned about leaving a legacy other than good memories of someone who tried to live a decent life, lived well and loved well, and was passionate about the enjoyment of music, among other joys. It’s taken me a while to learn that physical things are not permanent and sentimentality is not tied to possessions. It’s all in the life we led and the memories we created.