We’ve been listening to a lot of our past rehearsal recordings of Christmas songs over the years these last 2 weeks. And guess what? My father truly never sings out of tune. He is never flat and he is never sharp. He is bang on the centre of the pitch with each and very note that he sings. Remarkable.
Me? Not so much. I figure one or two notes every other song or so seem to slide out of me a little flat. I’m not happy about it but I never had time to go back in and correct those little moments – so be it.
Of course my Dad’s sound is a little “tight” for lack of a better way of describing it. That doesn’t make it less enjoyable to listen to of course. It just means that over the years he developed a very controlled and precise way of singing. Kind of like how he lived his life…
He grew up playing the violin and singing in choirs – his high school music teacher in Winnipeg was considered one of the finest at the time. He speaks of him fondly to this day. Yes, he remembers him.
Dad doesn’t always remember the songs we recorded over the years but really enjoyed listening to them. “This is much better than the radio” – after we listened to one of the radio stations play yet another pop or country star attempting to strain out a carol or semi-speak their way through a winter song.
Song For A Winter’s Night kept intriguing him each time it came up in our playlist. “Did we sing this song?” he asked many times. And each time, he was pleased to hear that we did. He loves that song and freely admits to feeling his eyes become a bit prickly/wet during that one. Me too. The pathos in that song is a worthy and beautiful experience.
My take away? Not that there needs to be one….but I realized that while life is often tinged with sadness, beauty/joy always rises if you let it. Easily and effortlessly. As easily as say….singing in tune!….if you’re my Dad, that is.
