A Gift from Dad

I'm driving home from work listening to Terry Gross interview singer-songwriter Mary Gauthier on the radio.  She sings "Another Train" while playing her guitar and as the chorus glides in on a wave of melancholy, something magical happens in my car on this lonely Ohio road. 

I'm surprised to hear my voice join in with a piercing tenor line that cuts through my heart like a honey-dipped knife.  It's like some kind of spiritual harmonic has welded our voices together, resonating inwardly and outwardly, bigger and fuller than it should be considering I'm using a falsetto voice to catch those high notes. 

It was my Dad who taught me this little bit of magic, the ability to hear the harmony lines to a song and add my voice to the weave.  It started with him inviting me to sing with him in the church choir in my early teens, standing beside him as he pointed out the tenor line and I tried to follow his lead until I could do it on my own. 

The other harmonic lines soon followed and I have added my voice to the likes of James Taylor, Neil Young, and Natalie Merchant, sometimes while washing the dishes and other times while driving my car.  I can think of few things more precious that my Dad could have given me in this short life, certainly not monetary wealth or other coarse offerings, but the gift of joy in the making of music.

"Another Train" by Mary Gauthier