Driving a scenic route, windows down, wind flooding in as music pours out from the car. My dad sings and drums the steering wheel, enjoying every beat, riff and word. With a hand-surfing the air, I absorb the sights passing by us – trying to focus on the branches of trees.
His music is different from mine. I am a kid, listening to Top 40 hits and the boy band of my dreams. He is an adult, listening to music with meaning created by celebrated and respected artists.
I listened during those drives through. I heard the difference and took note.
The Beatles. Bob Dylan. Fleetwood Mac. Rush. Peter Gabriel. Genesis. Steve Winwood. Kate Bush. Tori Amos. The Traveling Wilburys.
Because of my dad, I learned how to appreciate music more. Really listen to it. He loves music and wanted to share his favorites. It made him so happy. I thank him for opening my ears and heart to it. I love that I’m able to know songs that others are surprised I know.
I hope to pass on the respect for other music to the kids, too. I put some Beach Boys, Elvis and early Madonna on Nia’s MP3 and it’s already paying off. She was recently able to recognize Elvis and the Beach Boys among a restaurant’s playlist.
Took me right back to young, hand-surfing, me.
Are You Zhazha? 
Say what?