on music memories

I love music. I'm pretty behind these days as to what the kids think is cool. But I certainly have an eclectic pallet when it comes to music. Alternative. Pop. Jazz. Classical. Bluegrass. Electronica. Folk. Rock. Classic.

Today while I was running on the treadmill I finally put my iPod on and Fleetwood Mac's "Bleed to Love Her" came blaring through the headset. And tears welled up in my eyes. Right there, while I was running. So I ran faster. Did a discreet air drum session and remembered my Dad.

How does this all fit together? My Dad introduced me to a lot of music I love, like Fleetwood Mac. I have a very distinct memory of him blaring "Bleed to Love Her" as we zipped around in his Porsche, him singing and drumming the steering wheel. I know not a typical "daddy memory", but this is something that is very present in my  mind. When I hear this song, I pause. I remember. I run a little faster to keep the tears back.

I miss him.

I was very fortunate to be able to to concerts with my dad. Whitney Houston as a kid. Dave Matthews Band as I got older. The Eagles. Bon Jovi. Aerosmith. Motley Crue. Van Halen. And The Police, our last concert together, just a mere six months before he died. Not many kids can say they rocked out to the likes of these artists with a parent. But I can.

My girls (or I should say Hadley) have started requesting "Dance Parities". It started when Hayden started walking a few months a go because we discovered she likes to dance. Loves to dance. It's fun to spot her in her car seat groovin' to something on the radio, even when she's tearful. So we have dance parties.

Today's dance party consisted of Steven Tyler's new diddy and I watched her wiggle her little butt and wave her hands. My dad would've been proud. His granddaughter after his own heart. I know I've said this lots on this blog, but he would have been tickled pink with these two little people. I wish he was here to dance to Steven Tyler with little Hayden.