Dad was so good that he was repeatedly turning down professional gigs. As a preacher, he believed at the time that he should limit is playing to the "Lord's venues." Playing for the "world" would almost be akin to intentional backsliding, a sin. So, he smiled, treasured the compliments of the pros, and pastored small churches in small towns throughout the Northwest.
Today, almost 92 and slowly losing his sight and musical memory, he struggles to play a few songs on a banjo-tuned ukelele.
He told me a few weeks back that he wished he could hear how he used to play. Well, in the mail last week came a package from an uncle with some documents we needed for our POA roles, and wrapped in plastic was an old cassette tape.
On it, 60 minutes of my Dad playing his old gold-plated, pear-inlaid Gibson, one song after another, including original arrangements and medleys of decidedly old but classic secular hits.
From 1979, he navigated through complicated notes, chords, runs and riffs that reminded me just how good he was.
I was able to transfer the cassette's contents and burn some CDs for him and my kids.
Already, I have a happy new year.
Click here to listen to a sampler of my Dad, one of the best banjo artists, ever.
