Continuing my series on Lessons from My Father… In my opinion, my dad learned this one the hard way, and it may have cost him his life. That pain in your back, well, you are not just getting old. It’s not your bed. You have cancer. I believe my dad waited too long to go to the doctor. This lesson I learned from him, as many of his other lessons, through my dad’s own mistake.
Category: Lessons from my father
I’m continuing my series on Lessons from my father. They seem to be getting harder, and more profound. My dad was brilliant in many ways, but he was horrible at taking his own advice, or at least it seemed that way. He had great ideas, great perspective, and unfortunately he often didn’t take his own advice.
This is not a blog post about morality. This is a post about understanding that there are people who do harm, either intentionally, or unintentionally. The harm itself, is real, and has consequences.
I am at a point in my life where I feel that I am doing exactly what I am supposed to do, and I have never been happier or more fulfilled. Here’s the short version of how I got here. I am a preacher's kid. We can be the worst, and as for my part, I have not been a saint. I have never thought of myself as a preachy person, but this lesson from my father, probably more than any other, has changed my life, and in the most profound and positive way. Why am I a musician? Why did I start Boxleys? Why did I start a jazz festival? Why did I start a blues festival? How did I get to the point? Lesson #10 is the answer. Thanks Dad! Read more…
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.