Because of a memory,

givers receive.

It’s the other day.

Sitting on our deck following dinner. On our Alexa Pandora speaker we are listening to…

(any guesses?)

classic.

country.

western.

music.

(duh).

We were guessing the singers of the songs as they were playing. I’ve alluded to Dad being quite exceptional at this—it’s good exercise for his brain. And he’s proud of himself when he guesses correctly. I’m guessing, since we didn’t really play stereo/radio music all that much in the house growing up, that Dad played the local Yakima country western station in his pickup while he was driving around the fields. THAT and honky tonk music must have been his go-to as HE was growing up.

Right after mom died, we got Dad an Alexa smart speaker for his home. The only thing I ever heard him do with her, was the request: “Alexa, play 60’s country western music.”

Wait, come to think of it, that’s all we are doing with her now too. WHAT THE??? How’d THAT happen?

Oh yeah, DAD happened. Nevermind.

If you listen to classic country (and why the heck wouldn’t you? Umm…nevermind...again.), you get a lot of Waylen, Willie, and Johnnie. Honky Tonk. The Outlaws. I’m rediscovering that Johnnie Cash has perhaps THE most recognizable voice in all of music (Elvis anyone?). I mean, who gets tired of “A Boy Named Sue?”

Dad: There was a fourth singer in that group. What’s his name…oh, what was his name? [working hard to remember]

Me: In the Outlaws Dad? Did he sing with them, like in a group? I can look it up.

D: He sung with them. Kris something. He wasn’t a good singer but he sang this one song. One of his greatest. Kris Krisser-Krisserton…

M: Kristofferson Dad? Are you thinking of Kris Kristofferson?

Kristin: I know him. Didn’t he sing a famous duet with….

M: Barbra Streisand?

K: Yeah!

M: They also starred together in the movie “A Star is Born.”

D: His most famous song though…Umm…

[I do a quick Google search and start to name off some of the tracks.]

D: [out of the blue] “Why Me.”

[This was not a song I had read. I wasn’t familiar with it at all. Dad pulled that from a long ago memory. Long term memories can be accessed while, at the same time, he can forget how to get to the bathroom.]

K: You mean this? (As I called it up on my phone and hit play)

I wish you all could have witnessed what happened next.

Before the first five notes could be played…

D: That’s it! That’s it. “Why Me. Why Me Lord.”

And then he went silent.

But the sweetest smile graced his lips and you could see through his eyes that he was now looking way into the past at some, now remembered, yet distant memory that involved this song—a song he likely hadn’t heard in, I don’t know, 30, 40 years (the song was released in 1973–or maybe he and Pat heard it while they, themselves, sat on her deck during long summer afternoons not that long ago.)? He started to sing the song—not out loud, mind you; he just moved his lips, remembering the lyrics. He was no longer with us at that moment: the song transporting him to another, lovely place that obviously had deep meaning for him. His body relaxed; the tremor in his hand eased; he leaned back a little in the chair; and he stared off into space, past both Kristin and me, as he sang to himself, and as he remembered himself and perhaps a special someone other from the “way-back.”

He was there.

As the song played, and as his lips continued to form the words, he started wiping the tears that came.

Kristin and I could say nothing—we silently watched this amazing moment pass through Dad. It felt a little like we were invading a very private moment and that we should get up to leave him alone to have this intimacy all to himself. I don’t think I’ve seen anything like that from him. It brought me, and Kristin too, to tears. We were witnessing a moment of pure magic.

Talk about heartwarming!

It will be among the sweetest of all moments I’ll get to keep of my Dad.

In addition to the direct teachings that Elders provide, their influence can also be peddled in very subtle ways. And those can be just as, if not more, powerful in their impact. As sublime as a subtle smile of recognition; a soft verbal affirmation (“That’s it…. “That’s it.”); and a song sung quietly on the lips, but sacredly in his heart. A transportation to another place in time—without leaving this spot. In other words, magic.

As the tears of fond memories come.

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Mr. Laugh-a-Minute broke the spell himself though. About two thirds of the way through, with a clear voice awakened back to the present, and to us:

Dad: “This is a long song.”

We laughed.

He was apparently done with the moment.

Welcome back Dad. I wished you would have stayed there a little while longer—it looked like you were having a very nice time.

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I gave my Father a gift that afternoon that started from a memory. His memory. And it didn’t cost me one, single, dime.

Instead, it was priceless.

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Kristin and I won’t soon, if ever, forget this unexpected moment, just sitting on our deck, after dinner, being together, listening to music…and watching and experiencing Dad tenderly being touched by a memory, and then being “taken out of himself for a while” to a lovely place and time with a light heart and spirit—a place only he could visit.

Bearing witness to it, it was his gift to us.

Also priceless.

T plus 29 days…and counting.

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Postscript: a week later Dad wanted me to play that song again. After, I asked him what he thinks about when he hears that song—expecting, maybe hoping for, some form of a love story from the “way-back.”

He thought about it… “Just all the words, I guess.”

But I don’t buy it. I think there’s a love story there—even if it is only a fondness of a time so far away now.

I want there to be a love story there.

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