March 15, 2025

 I love music. The words, the notes, the emotions, the memories it evokes. Some of the most significant memories in my life involve music. Music brings back certain smells, feelings, and situations.

I recently watched The Complete Unknown, the Bob Dylan story. I've added it to the list of movies that I will watch on repeat just because of the music. When Bohemian Rhapsody came out, my grandsons were amazed I knew all the songs featured in it. Who remembers Remember the Titans? Again, a video reminder of the times and its music. There are so many more just like these.

Back to Bob Dylan, though. It was a time fraught with protests and unfair laws. Did you know that Pete Seegar's This Land is Your Land was such a controversial issue that the "law" would not let him perform it in public? He defied that edict. But, what I remember about that time, as a young teen attending Catholic school, with no formal music classes offered, the nuns allowed us to sing those songs. In church.

I must digress a bit to say that the young wife of one of our bankers gave guitar lessons in their apartment on Saturday mornings. it started with a few of us, and grew to a roomful of hopeful musicians and singers. I remember the euphoria of being able to accompany myself on the small red guitar I got for Christmas, paid for with Green Stamps.

Those lessons brought together a group of friends that would go onto forming a guitar group that stayed together through high school, with additions and adjustments throughout. We instituted the guitar Mass, singing for 10:00 Mass each Sunday. That flourished into weddings, showers, and even a funeral or two, as well as community events requiring entertainment.

Back to junior high...the BVM sisters let us sing for student masses. Looking back, I'm impressed and amazed at their progressive views on what we chose for songs. While many were viewed as protest songs, as emotional and fervent teens, we just liked the way they sounded and made us feel. Blowing in the Wind was a crowd favorite.

Another incident from junior high, again a select warm memory, involved the vocal director. As freshmen, we were together with the public school students to begin our high school years. The Catholic high school closed a few yeas earlier, and a new high school built. Ninth grade was still in with the Middle school aged kids, though. Anyway! Mr. Johnson had every student audition for choir. His idea of an audition was having the student sing scales, and tell whether or not they had been in choir before. Of course, all of the Catholic kids had to say no. Of course, with the exception of one boy, none of us were put in the choir.

Bob Sackett was the legendary band director, and caught wind of this. He had heard our group sing before. So, when the band had its first public performance, he included us, The New Generation Singers, he called us. I'm not exaggerating when I tell you we brought down the house...much to the chagrin of Mr. Johnson. Apparently he was unaware that the Catholic school had no formal music program, but did allow for, shall we say, independent study? There were no issues the following year when we moved out to the high school.

I can go on and on about one thing or another that is triggered by the sound of a specific song. For now, I'm happy singing along with my earbuds in as I mow. Or in my truck when I drive. Or in the kitchen, baking. Or along with the movie playing. It's always all around me.

Don't get me wrong; I was no star or solo artist. I sang because I loved it, not because I was particularly good at it. My guitar resides at my professional musician's home so it gets played well. 

Is music as cathartic for you?

Thanks for being here. ☘