Have you ever noticed that songs have the power to transport us to an exact moment in time?
I slid this CD into the player today. Suddenly, I was a youngster again, captivated by our family's old black and white television set as Leonard Berstein directed the New York Philharmonic in a majestic Christmas special. Such moments were a highlight of the holidays for me.
You see, I am the daughter of two music aficionados. My mother was a pianist and organist, and my dad loved to sing and listen to music. As a teenager in Hershey, Pennsylvania, he would milk cows on Sunday afternoons, enraptured by the Metropolitan Opera on the radio. Consequently, though our old farmhouse had only one bathroom for the four of us, there was a full console organ in the living room, a piano in my brother's bedroom, and a magnificent hi-fi console under the picture window. We kids were literally surrounded by music!
Though both my parents were well-educated, our family fell upon hard times in rural Appalachia during the '60s. In some ways, this was a blessing, for like Paul, I learned how to abound in little as well as much. When my folks were too poor to afford anything beyond nuts and tangerines for gifts, there was always Christmas music. Mother would play, or--joy of joys!--I would have the opportunity to learn and perform new music at school or with an area church.
Mother's favorite Christmas song was "The Little Drummer Boy." Perhaps that's because she believed it's still possible to make a joyful noise regardless of one's circumstances.
While I never learned to play an instrument, and my vocal quality could best be described as acceptable, my parents did pass on their deep appreciation of music to me. What a blessing that a host of teachers, professors, and choir directors were able to add to this foundation over the decades.
I am ever in their debt!
Kay Seibert O'Hara
December 8, 2020
