Living with MPD

There is something about music I’ve always loved.  I knew I had a history of hearing it, singing it and sometimes playing it.  Until you get older, sometimes you never know the root of things.  Last night I reflected on this a little more when my mother popped a CD into our player of my uncle, playing the guitar and singing.

The songs he sang were the same songs I grew up hearing my dad sing.  He had this wonderful habit, because I didn’t wake up well as a child, of coming into my room singing a song and opening my blinds so that I could wake up gradually.  Blue Eyes Crying in the Rain, The Most Beautiful Girl in the World (which I noted recently was written the year I was born), and some Patsy Cline songs mixed in there…were some of his favorites.  My uncle was singing these very songs on the CD, and he passed away a few years back, so that was bittersweet to hear.

And again, recently, I was exposed to music in the family.  Not only do two of my relatives have CDs released out there, but several uncles and aunts and cousins get together and sing and play, sometimes at family reunions.  This happened this year and I was thinking back to that wonderful rich history that families have with music.

My brother has always had an ear for music and a wide range of love for different styles.  I have done the same, from classical to alternative, with my choices.  He tends to find more Indie Rock and other types that I’ve never heard, I love it when  he shares the bands with me and I find someone new to listen to.

I’m very thankful to have this connection of rich memories that are good and not bad, it makes me realize my roots and that I can hold onto things like this when I’m down, and garner strength from the positive.

Hey, did you happen to see the most beautiful girl in the world?  And if you did, was she crying?