By: Adelle Kho
Catherina Cittadini (St. Louis) School
As I was reminiscing with the background of light music in the air, I ardently noticed how time flies so fast and how 15 years swiftly passed by. It abruptly came to my mind because of the music ringing on my ears. As a child, I was already exposed to a variety of music and was greatly influenced by my parents who were somewhat music aficionados as well.
After years of hearing an assortment of music, I can’t help to compare. I grew up listening to various kinds of artists and singing into a range of genre. I’m most familiar of songs by “Michael Learns To Rock”, “Air Supply”, “The Carpenters”, etc. If I am to weigh current tunes to the archaic ones, I say the classics outshine every latest melody because of their simplicity and profound sense as a song. Honestly speaking, I find music nowadays mostly of no sense. But still, something clings to me forbidding me to lose this passion for music.
Most of the passion for music was innately from my father for he was the real, active singer of the family plus, he was really fun to be with. As a child, I grew up getting to ride at the front of the motorcycle, which satisfied me a lot because my two small hands were then so eager to grip the handlebars for a pretend race. And then, everytime we encounter a bend in the road, I would imitate him in leaning on the side as much as my thin and feeble-looking body could afford. I still vaguely remember those times when they would sing songs in acapella or karaoke during annual fiestas or special occasions. I wasn’t yet old enough to mind the elder ones singing to the top of their voices. See, I was busy playing by then. But still, I became fond of the songs since then, especially classics such as “Hotel California”, “Dust in the Wind” and “25 min Too Late”. I presume that my life back then was so musical because until now, we still have vintage giant albums, which I cannot recognize anymore. They were my father’s. He would play them in our Akai CD Player or sometimes I just hear music from tapes. We would enjoy but those were the bygone days that were yesterday.
I soon realized the importance of knowing things about your loved ones and being able to share these things with each other before it becomes too late. My father passed away when I was 7. Too young to accept and handle loss but old enough to understand the significance of life and love. It’s hard to accept reality that nothing is inevitable until it occurs. Anything that happens to us happens at the time God chooses. We can’t change fate nor escape it. As I entered into my teenage years, I started to know more about my father. I just knew that his favorites were singers like Jon Bon Jovi, Simon and Garfunkel and other rock or acoustic artists. I never knew about that. I realized I’ve missed a lot of his life.
Knowing my father’s song doesn’t make any difference because I can do nothing about reality. I’m too late to even sing it with him. But still, I remain positive on this mysterious force that draws me into the depths of music. It partially gives some legacy in different faces. Why can’t we be like classical songs? That can be preserved for some time and cannot be easily obliterated in the face of the earth. My father’s loss brought us anguish and misery but at the same time, brought redemption in a way. Now, I take his favorite songs as replicas of his memory. Even though I know so little about it. Daddy’s melody will always remain in my heart as long as this lives. Those timeless memories of the past will last a lifetime. I still believe that someday, I will be able to sing his song to him and with him. And I’m still looking forward to that day.
After years of hearing an assortment of music, I can’t help to compare. I grew up listening to various kinds of artists and singing into a range of genre. I’m most familiar of songs by “Michael Learns To Rock”, “Air Supply”, “The Carpenters”, etc. If I am to weigh current tunes to the archaic ones, I say the classics outshine every latest melody because of their simplicity and profound sense as a song. Honestly speaking, I find music nowadays mostly of no sense. But still, something clings to me forbidding me to lose this passion for music.
Most of the passion for music was innately from my father for he was the real, active singer of the family plus, he was really fun to be with. As a child, I grew up getting to ride at the front of the motorcycle, which satisfied me a lot because my two small hands were then so eager to grip the handlebars for a pretend race. And then, everytime we encounter a bend in the road, I would imitate him in leaning on the side as much as my thin and feeble-looking body could afford. I still vaguely remember those times when they would sing songs in acapella or karaoke during annual fiestas or special occasions. I wasn’t yet old enough to mind the elder ones singing to the top of their voices. See, I was busy playing by then. But still, I became fond of the songs since then, especially classics such as “Hotel California”, “Dust in the Wind” and “25 min Too Late”. I presume that my life back then was so musical because until now, we still have vintage giant albums, which I cannot recognize anymore. They were my father’s. He would play them in our Akai CD Player or sometimes I just hear music from tapes. We would enjoy but those were the bygone days that were yesterday.
I soon realized the importance of knowing things about your loved ones and being able to share these things with each other before it becomes too late. My father passed away when I was 7. Too young to accept and handle loss but old enough to understand the significance of life and love. It’s hard to accept reality that nothing is inevitable until it occurs. Anything that happens to us happens at the time God chooses. We can’t change fate nor escape it. As I entered into my teenage years, I started to know more about my father. I just knew that his favorites were singers like Jon Bon Jovi, Simon and Garfunkel and other rock or acoustic artists. I never knew about that. I realized I’ve missed a lot of his life.
Knowing my father’s song doesn’t make any difference because I can do nothing about reality. I’m too late to even sing it with him. But still, I remain positive on this mysterious force that draws me into the depths of music. It partially gives some legacy in different faces. Why can’t we be like classical songs? That can be preserved for some time and cannot be easily obliterated in the face of the earth. My father’s loss brought us anguish and misery but at the same time, brought redemption in a way. Now, I take his favorite songs as replicas of his memory. Even though I know so little about it. Daddy’s melody will always remain in my heart as long as this lives. Those timeless memories of the past will last a lifetime. I still believe that someday, I will be able to sing his song to him and with him. And I’m still looking forward to that day.
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