Saturday, October 1, 2011
a lot of songs and singers remind me of my Dad. stylistics, jose feliciano, dionne warwick, john denver, asin, and just now, rico puno. reminds me of life in the 70s, my still uncomplicated, carefree life. when in the company of these singers and their songs, i would glide by the wooden floor of the master bedroom, my dad reading his favorite book or newspaper. when breakfast, lunch and dinner were my only expectations with these songs being played in the background. when pressing on the 'play' button of our cassette tape was a massive accomplishment. when the only time i don't see my dad working was when he winds and unwinds the brown glossy string from his cassette tapes to rehash them. sometimes, hearing tunes in the bus or the mall or just were pop music plays, i would be reminded of a song, as if it's in the music box of my memories, transporting me back to the time of being skinny, with reed-thin legs. the time when being strong is a far off obligation. when the sight of the man of the house and his songs are enough to bring comfort, assurance that tomorrow will be the same as today.