Lesson #9- You can learn to enjoy Jazz. You can learn how to do anything.

If you are just tuning in, take note that I have been writing a series of blog posts on the “lessons” I learned from my dad. I should say that these lessons are not ‘bullet points’ that my dad “used on me.” For the most part, he never sat me down and said, “son, let me tell you lesson #9.” No, my dad taught me these things through the way he lived, through his example, more than anything. But this next lesson, my dad actually said to me almost word for word.

Lesson #9- You can learn to enjoy Jazz. You can learn how to do anything. – from Lessons from My Father

Not A Fan

My dad didn’t start out a Jazz fan at all. He found it confusing. He was not a musician, and he didn’t think of himself as having musical talent. Growing up, I rarely heard him sing, I sometimes heard him hum a tune, and sometimes he would clap his deformed hands. As a burn victim, he couldn’t really flatten his hands to make much of a sound, but he tried nonetheless. He was always quiet when it came to music, so I have no idea really if my dad could carry a tune in a bucket.

But My Biggest Fan

My dad was my biggest fan. And I know he was a fan of “me” not “the music.” He almost never missed a performance if he could. When I decided to open Boxleys, he was there, at the front table, watching and listening, and I learned later that he was so confused.

My dad didn’t like Jazz, like many people, “it wasn’t his thing.” But since I was his son, and he loved me; he made an effort to understand the music, and try to understand what about it intrigued me as a musician to want to play it. He would ask me about the music, observe about what would happen on stage, and at an intellectual level, he started to figure out what was going on. My dad took an interest in Jazz, because of me, that’s the bottom line.

The Head, The Solos, Trading, Shout?, Head Out…

Dad figured out that there was this dance that we would go through when we played the music; he noticed how the musicians would work together. He started with really studying how my trio would play together.

Often when I played, we would pick a song on the band stand. Sometimes, I would just sit at the piano and wait for something to pop into my head. I’d start playing it, not even telling the other members what I was playing. They would listen, figure it out, and then the bassist and drummer would join in. We’d play an entire arrangement, section by section, passing responsibilities of the melodies we’d create back and forth, and then somehow wrap up the song with an ending. Dad figured it out.

But he didn’t like ‘the jazz’

Since my dad was such a loyal fan of mine, I didn’t really give it much thought that he may not like the music. He didn’t say negative things about it to me. He didn’t criticize me for playing it. He kept any negative thoughts to himself. Actually, I didn’t realize that my dad didn’t like Jazz, and it wasn’t until the last year of his life when he told me as much.

Since he was there, at my gigs, and he talked with me about what I loved to play, I just assumed that he liked the music. Well, he didn’t particularly care for it. But he loved me.

He loved me

Dad was only interested in Jazz because he loved me. It was as if my interest, jazz, were an extension of me, and since I loved the music, he was determined to learn about it. It’s not a mystery that my dad came to see me play the music. I knew he loved me. And you know what? Something happened one day.

I Wasn’t Even Playing

I came downstairs one day later than usual for a night at Boxleys. I don’t exactly recall what I was doing, but I was busy on another project. When I walked into the dining room, my mom and dad were there, at their table, right next to the stage. But this was odd, unusual. It wasn’t normal; I wasn’t playing that night. I went up and gave my parents a hug and asked, “what are you doing here?” And the answer shocked me. He said, “I wanted to see this group play tonight?”

Dad Wanted to See the Show

My dad had decided to come see a show that I wasn’t playing in. He was interested now, in the music, even without me on the band stand. The switch had flipped and my dad now really enjoyed the music. Even though I wasn’t playing, he was there, he was interested, and that made me feel so good.

This lesson, which I labeled #9, my dad actually did tell me. He actually did say to me, “You can learn to like Jazz. I did.” He then confessed how many years he had “tolerated it” and he didn’t really care for it.

”Why did you start to like it?”

My dad enjoyed how the musicians would work together. He thought it was beautiful. How they would come together, and create something; it was glorious. I agree.

My dad also made friends with a bunch of the musicians at Boxleys. He enjoyed talking with them. He enjoyed the style of the music that they would play, and he began to notice the different ways they would play the music.

But you know what, he decided he was going to figure it out. And when he watched it live, he saw the way musicians worked together.

“You Can Learn to Like Jazz…”

The real moral of this story is that you can learn to like what people you love are interested in. There is a magical connection between the person, and their interests. Taking an interest in what they are interested in, and you can learn to like that too.

Give it a try. Instead of using what you don’t like as an excuse because it’s “not your thing,” try learning why they like what they do. It will certainly help your relationship. It will probably help you grow closer together.

My Dad Was Proud Of Me

I lost my dad in 2021 because of cancer. I am thankful to say that I really knew the heart of my dad, he did not hide it from me. And I am thankful, so thankful, to have heard my dad tell me that he was proud of me. I hope I can pass on the “heart” he had to others.

So I find myself learning about stuff that I don’t like…

Me? Yeah. I do stuff that’s “not my thing.” I learn about things that I am “not interested in.” It’s only because I care about the people that are interested in it, and “it’s their thing.”

Thank You “Jazz People”

In the end my dad shared with me how much he loved “the jazz people.” He said that he really felt that they were friends. He came to Boxleys and felt welcome, and loved, more welcome than many of the churches that he served in. Yeah, that’s sad to think about. My dad was a minister, and as a minister, he was often judged by his own parishioners. Unfortunately, he is right. Too many church goers are very critical to their pastors. Anyways, when my dad came to Boxleys, he didn’t get any of that. He was just Dan Kolke. He was free to be himself, and free to talk with other people. Free to make friends. It was awesome. I am so glad that he felt the love and respect of “the jazz people.”

All of this happened though, because my dad was interested in what I was interested in. And that led to new friendships, and he became interested in what they were interested in. And the chain continued. Then one day, he realized, he really enjoyed Jazz.