legacy

Today, I'm celebrating my dad's 61st birthday.

One of the blessings that comes from living 15+ years without your father is that you get really good at guessing at what would have made him proud or happy or angry or confused or curious. You get to keep and access a strange rolodex of memories and try to apply them to new situations and relationships to piece together an idea of how he'd see the world and advise you on your path.

My dad has been on my shoulder for as long as I can remember. Today, on his birthday, I am grateful for all of the times he's protected me, steered me away from trouble, sent signs I saw, sent signs I didn't see, gave me a model to follow, and challenged me with mysteries.

One of my favorite stories about my dad (you know I have a lot) is about his relationship with music, particularly his violin. He was an amazing violinist, making girls carry his instrument home so he could practice and not sacrifice looking cool. He earned first chair in his high school symphony orchestra, just before the racist school administration dismantled the group rather than seeing a young Black man in that leadership position. He passed this untraditional love on to me, playing the Moonlight Sonata on my mom's out-of-tune upright in the living room, interspersing Tchaikovsky with "Hit The Road, Jack" and Stevie Wonder records. We wore out a Yitzak Perlman tape AND a tape of Hendrix's Star Spangled Banner on our road trip to Indianapolis when I was eight.

Today, Tash heard about a program in Baltimore that gives young string players a chance to practice and perform in the summer - Thrive City String Academy. I made a little donation, in honor of my pops and his violin.

This story isn't over. Thanks Dad. I'll keep trying to fill your skates.