I'm at my sister's place in Missouri. My father lives nearby in a retirement community and at 93 is really doing well. I have been playing Stick for 3 years now and I've never played for him. When packing for this trip I debated with myself whether or not I should take my Stick with me. I decided to take it with me and I'm glad I did.

I played for him today and, of course, I didn't play as well as I wanted to. I played a Bach piece, some Mozart, some Satie, Eric Clapton, and a little piece that I'm writing. Here I am with my dad watching.



I was concentrating on playing and wasn't looking at anyone. My wife, my kids, my sister, my brother-in-law, and my dad were watching. As I finished my little original, my dad got up and went into the kitchen to get a Kleenex. My wife asked if I noticed my dad while I was playing. I said no, and she said that tears were streaming down his face the entire time I was playing. My dad didn't know I could play music like that and it really affected him. He thanked me profusely and my sister says that my playing was all he talked about on his way home.

I'm really glad I played for him, even though I wasn't perfect. I connected with him and my family with music. I've never done that before and it's an amazing experience. At 93, my dad is still totally with it and has a very full life. I hope I have some of those genes and last that long. One thing I can say for sure is that if I get to 93, I'll be playing music.

-Eric

Hey Eric, what a wonderful suprise for the both of you! You really touched his heart. And speaking of our seniors, my girlfriend and I started doing a duo 'stick and acoustic Guitar' we both sing (shes outstanding) and use a drum machine. We are playing at senior centers, retirement villages and nursing homes. They love it! The neat thing about it is we're learning our new craft and earning a modest income. Keep tapping my friend.....Tony D.

That's a really great story. Makes me think of my parents and how grateful I am for their support of my musical pursuits. My mom had me learn piano at a young age, and I remember not really liking it at the time. She gave me the "you'll thank me when you're older" line and kept pushing me to learn. And sure enough, I was totally thanking her when I was older. I don't really play piano anymore, but having that background has helped me immensely with my other musical directions.

Eric, thanks for the story. It reminded me of playing for my dad just a couple of years after starting the Stick. My dad was an amateur guitarist and all around music lover. He was fascinated by the Stick and very complimentary on my feeble attempts to play some tunes on it. He passed away not too long after that. Thanks for reminding me of that, it's a memory I'd like to hold on to.

That's a really great story.
Congrats to you and to your dad.
Randy

Hi Eric - Very beautiful moment. That's what music is all about.
Sean Stirling

Wow. That's a good story. Atta boy Eric.

It must be some kind of a primal experience. I have the same story as Eric's. My Dad, Emmett Howard Pardee, was in his late '80s when I played music to him for the first time. It happened here in my studio and I played a simple arrangement of Ave Maria, the one by Mozart.

No chops, speed or chordal substitutions, I just played the song. His reaction was much like Eric's Dad's, and unforgettable to Yuta and me, of course.

Emmett

Nice. Glad you got have that experience.

Big subject.

My father was a trumpet player in a few big bands in North Carolina in the late 1940s. He worked his way through college, and loved making music, and loved passing on that interest to me.

As a child of the Great Depression, he could never quite bring himself to embrace my interest in being a full-time musician (or his own for that matter), but I think there was some vicarious interest on his part in my unfolding musical career. His own father, who worked his ass off for many years of very lean times, and didn't even really like music, managed to save enough to buy him a trumpet in the late 1930s. I have a picture of one of those bands on my studio wall.

He passed away before I really accomplished much, in 1991. I was surprised to find at his bedside a walkman with one of my tapes in it. My Mom said he used to listen to my music almost every night as he went to sleep.

I played at his memorial and gave his eulogy. Hard to play with tears in your eyes. I was 26, he was 61.

I'll never forget the day he bought me the big console organ that sat in our living room for so many years. My first real instrument of improvisation, of harmonic discovery, cheesy as it was. He thought it was the coolest thing, with all the min-o-matic beats and auto chord functions. It was what it was.

My earliest memories of music of any kind are of him playing along with swing records on his trumpet, his high blood pressure turning his face too red for comfort. After a while he never picked it up again, it was just too physically difficult. When I started playing the clarinet, he took me to see Benny Goodman.

Right after he died, I decided to honor his love of music, and "dig in" to my life of making music. I wouldn't play it safe any more. He always played it safe, and I think he suffered for it. I quit my job and lived from music projects. It's been a mercurial path, but I've met some amazing people, and seen a lot of places. Most important I've connected with something pure and unique to me. I will always appreciate that he gave me the nod to make music, however tacitly.

It's too easy to forget how amazing music is, and how lucky we are if we get to be the ones who bring it to others. Music is a sacred gift. As Mingus wrote, "Better get it in your soul".