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I was maybe 10 years old and I was camping with my father and my younger sister. My sister had gone to bed, and my dad and I were sitting on folding chairs around our campfire. We were singing, which is something we really should never do, because neither of us is particularly tuneful. At least the only living creatures around to hear us were the mountain lions. We’d already exhausted the supply of songs that we both knew (I had only been alive for 10 measley years, after all. Most of the songs I knew were by NSync). So he started singing songs he knew. He started slowly and sadly, “Sittin’ in the morning sun / I’ll be sittin’ when the evening comes”. There was something eerie about the song, sung quietly and a cappella by the last coals of our campfire. He told me it was by a soul singer named Otis Redding.

I didn’t hear the song as sung by Otis until I was a freshman in high school. My religion teacher, Mr. McCullough, started every class period with a song. One day his selection was Sittin’ On the Dock of the Bay. I went home and looked it up on Wikipedia. I read about the plane crash. He was only 26 when he died, and ”Sittin’ On the Dock of the Bay” had been recorded days before his aircraft plummeted into Lake Monona, killing all aboard except backing singer Ben Cauley.

With this new knowledge, the song seemed even more spine-tingling. As I got more and more into Otis Redding’s music, I found that this song didn’t sound quite like his older work. But what really got to me is the fact that the song wasn’t finished. The whistling bit at the end was just a placeholder until Otis could write another verse. He had such a career, for a man who died so young. So yeah, just like D4 says, “I know he’s never gone.”

My dad is probably one of my favorite people in the world. He is a quality individual. I also talk about him a lot. I’m pretty sure this annoys the crap out of people and generally gives the impression that I’m such a loser that I spend inordinate amounts of time at home playing Guitar Hero with my dad (Nunz N Mozes is the best fake band ever), which is pretty much a true impression. It has made me fairly decent at GH, however.

We were IMing today and I happened to be listening to Amy’s “It’s Snowing, Let’s Overreact!” mix (from the post below). The song playing was “Sun or Snow” by Chuck Ragan & Austin Lucas. I told him the song I was listening to made me sad and I sent it to him.

Dad: when did u start listening to hilbilly music?

He then proceeded to quiz me on my pronunciations of “Appalachia”, “pen”, and “guitar”, all of which were apparently in the style of the hillfolk from which I am descended. (Appalaycha, pin, gittar). I proceeded to send him the following songs:
“Wagon Wheel” – Old Crow Medicine Show
“The Boat” – Chuck Ragan
“Last Pale Light in the West” – Ben Nichols
“Restless” – Rumbleseat
“The Weight of Lies” – The Avett Brothers

He sent these:
“Amie” – Pure Prairie League
“Dixie Chicken” – Little Feat
“Can’t You See” – The Marshall Tucker Band

Dad:  this is fun!

Then we talked about our mutual dislike of Led Zeppelin (sometimes I feel like the only person in the world who doesn’t think Led Zep is God’s gift to rock ‘n’ roll)

Then it was past his bedtime. He’s coming up to visit next week (!) with my mom and little sister. I can’t wait to see them.

I made my younger sister a mix CD and she hated every single song on it. If you ask me, this is possibly one of the most devastating things that can happen to a person. However, I should have known it was coming—her music taste is strictly Top 40, which, in my defense, I was unaware of at the time. When I was going through a Le Tigre phase in high school, she was totally down for a dance party, and she loves “Holiday in Cambodia” by the Dead Kennedys. Of course, that was before middle school hit and she got all weird and lame, more concerned with the mall than anything else. (She would probably describe me as “weird and lame” as well).

So I spent 6 hours crafting this glorious gift to her and I sat the girl down and forced her to listen to it. All 22 tracks. She politely listened to the first 10 songs in full, and the rest, she skipped before they even reached the chorus. She reached over me, a sneer on her face, to quickly press the button to skip the song. I tried to stop her, but I have absolutely no muscle whatsoever, and she is a gymnast. It was not a fair match. I sat there, helpless, observing my favorite songs reduced to 10-second clips, quickly tossed to the wayside by the disdain of a 13-year-old.

Some choice criticisms:

“I can tell it’s going to be stupid” (It’s Hard to Know - Hot Water Music)

“I don’t like old music” (Son of a Preacher Man - Dusty Springfield)

“His voice is weird” (Ask the Angels - Patti Smith). I informed her that it was, in fact, sung by a woman. She refused to believe me. A Google Image search only convinced her that she was correct.

“The song name is dumb” (Like Eye Contact in an Elevator - Dillinger Four)

“This is hillbilly music” (Wagon Wheel - Old Crow Medicine Show)

I love the child, I really do, but I still haven’t come to terms with the fact that we are fundamentally different. I like Jawbreaker. She likes the Jonas Brothers.