Not Just Any Ditty

I wish I knew how to play an instrument. My grandpa was amazing with music. He could pick up any instrument and play it like he'd been born with it in his hands. My father and brother play guitar and some of my favorite memories are sitting around with my parents and brothers singing together. Music has always been a huge part of my family life. To this day, getting together with my father's side of the family means good food and good music. It doesn't take long for an aunt or cousin, niece or nephew to start begging for a song. The group forms it's semi-circle, ready to clap and sing along. Most of the songs we all know by heart and those we don't still find us making up our own and laughing at the results. The night grows later and we all seem to have a hard time pulling away and acknowledging the inevitable end to such fun. Alas, the players fingers are raw from the strings and their voices come out like croaks instead of trills.

Music is a cure-all for me. No matter what sort of emotion I am feeling, I can always count on music to aid or contribute to my sentiments. It's fuel, a driving force, it's a calming aphrodisiac, it's a lamenting dirge to wallow in, and I love it all. I was actually named after a song. Amanda, by Don Williams, and when my parents sing it to me, my heart swells. Still, my favorite song is the one they wrote together. Naturally, they call it "Our Song" and it goes like this:

Well, I've been sitting here, thinking of you,
and the days to come
And what'll I do when they get here?
And what'll I do if you're not here beside me
To show me the way, and to hold me
And hear you say, it's all right dear,
There's nothing to fear, it's all right dear
You're safe here - by me.


And I'll say, dear, let's get married
And we'll move away from here
Have children to hold to
And children to scold to
When they're bad
We'll be good
And we'll do what we should
To show them our way


When we're old and we're gray
We'll look back and we'll say
Remember the good times
And remember the bad times that we've had
Isn't it sad to go that way?

John E. Kingdollar, 1978

I love you Mom and Papa! xoxo

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