I like the father's riff on music. Music, melodies and lyrics, stay locked in my memory much more so than stories or written words, unless I have made a point to memorize passages. These also fade from memory over time if I don't use them. Not so with music. I hear a song a few times and it stays with me, if I like it, if it grabs me in some way. Then there is this on the church: "“Somewhere along the way, religion got involved and ran history and allegory through a Cuisinart—twisting them for ulterior motives. The church seized control, shifting the focus from us—that’s you and me—communicating directly with the gods, to someone else doing it for us. We lost our way behind the pulpit, where the written word became both the bearer of truth and a barrier to the divine." When I came to understand that the presence of God is within me, and that direct contact is the source of enlightenment, I had no more use for organized religion. All in all, it is interesting background that will no doubt influence George as he pursues his quest.
Sharing music is a love language, I think. It's such an intimate way to see someone, really get to know them, especially once they are no longer with us. George's dad handing down knowledge through his stories and enjoyment of music is love. Beautiful chapter.
Totally agree. I don’t know about you but it’s a binding agent between family or friends in my world. When music is absent from my day the shine on life dulls a bit.
A bookshop as holy. Vinyl as Bibles. I like the way George's father thinks, J. For some reason I keep hearing in my head these days, the refrain, "It can't happen here. It can't happen here! It's important you believe me that it can't happen here." (Frank Zappa, Freak Out, 1966)
Ha! in Kansas… in Minnesota. George’s father would definitely have been a Zappa fan—both pushing against the conformity of what modern culture might dictate. Maybe George’s father might have been a bit more purist that not much good could have come *after* a certain date, though. Were he to have lived to old age he might have lived behind the pages of a book, shaking his fists to the kids rolling by on their bikes, though.
I like the father's riff on music. Music, melodies and lyrics, stay locked in my memory much more so than stories or written words, unless I have made a point to memorize passages. These also fade from memory over time if I don't use them. Not so with music. I hear a song a few times and it stays with me, if I like it, if it grabs me in some way. Then there is this on the church: "“Somewhere along the way, religion got involved and ran history and allegory through a Cuisinart—twisting them for ulterior motives. The church seized control, shifting the focus from us—that’s you and me—communicating directly with the gods, to someone else doing it for us. We lost our way behind the pulpit, where the written word became both the bearer of truth and a barrier to the divine." When I came to understand that the presence of God is within me, and that direct contact is the source of enlightenment, I had no more use for organized religion. All in all, it is interesting background that will no doubt influence George as he pursues his quest.
Sharing music is a love language, I think. It's such an intimate way to see someone, really get to know them, especially once they are no longer with us. George's dad handing down knowledge through his stories and enjoyment of music is love. Beautiful chapter.
Totally agree. I don’t know about you but it’s a binding agent between family or friends in my world. When music is absent from my day the shine on life dulls a bit.
Thanks for reading!
Oh absolutely, same. Music can change my mood in an instant.
A bookshop as holy. Vinyl as Bibles. I like the way George's father thinks, J. For some reason I keep hearing in my head these days, the refrain, "It can't happen here. It can't happen here! It's important you believe me that it can't happen here." (Frank Zappa, Freak Out, 1966)
Ha! in Kansas… in Minnesota. George’s father would definitely have been a Zappa fan—both pushing against the conformity of what modern culture might dictate. Maybe George’s father might have been a bit more purist that not much good could have come *after* a certain date, though. Were he to have lived to old age he might have lived behind the pages of a book, shaking his fists to the kids rolling by on their bikes, though.