All good things must come to an end and it was time for us to turn the Escape northward for the return trip home. This usually involves packing the Escape so that her tail is dragging the ground (hey… just kidding there…we were actually nice and level this time! 🙂
Before we left, there was a little scene I’d like to share with you Eagle-Eyed BLOG readers. One thing that has been a constant through my father’s side of the family is that there is a very noticeable knack for playing and singing music. My grandfather used to play the church revivals during the Depression and was very proficient on the piano and the mandolin. When I lived in Port Orange, it was the rare Sunday before church where he wouldn’t be at his piano playing hymns and singing. You’d be hard-pressed to notice that he was missing one finger due to a turbine accident he had at Central Illinois Power north of Hutsonville (about halfway up the east side of the state right on the Wabash river about 30 miles south of Terre Haute, IN). And that voice was just to die for…I can still hear him singing his favorite hymn “The Old Rugged Cross”. Not only did he sing like an angel and play like you wouldn’t believe, but he was also was a master on the mandolin that was ancient when he was young.
Gramps is no slouch in the music department and spent years playing in the church orchestra at First Baptist Church in Daytona. Not only did he play in the orchestra, but he often arranged the scores for all of the other instruments and made sure they had all of their transposed music copied and ready for performance on Sunday morning. I can’t imagine how they ever got on without him…he was tireless in doing the very important day-to-day things that made that orchestra special. And then there are the instruments…it’d probably be easier to list the ones he doesn’t play and most of them he is self-taught. It wasn’t uncommon for him to play trumpet, trombone, and sax in the same performance. Even though he’s amazing on guitar (of all sorts), it’s his piano and trumpet playing that just get to me every time.
For me, I can play a bit of piano (mostly right handed though I do have a piece I composed that I occasionally play that is chorded with the left hand), a little sax, and I can squeak a clarinet with the best of them when changing it to the high register. Grandma Williams used to love it when I’d go to church with her because she’d get to hear me sing…well, she liked my voice. I don’t claim to be Clay Aiken but I don’t think I really stink, either. But for me, it’s always going to be the flute that is my home. The first three weeks of playing flute were hell trying to blow across that little hole and get something resembling a note out of the thing. What a pain in the butt that was! But I was so happy when it finally came together and frankly, nothing calms me down after a frustrating day more than pulling out the flute and having a go at it.
Anywho…Sherman, set the Wayback Machine for sometime in 1986 or 1987. Gramps and I had just moved to Port Orange and everything was unpacked…I think we’d been there for a couple of months and had finally settled into a routine. I don’t think I’ll forget that evening as long as I live! Grandpa Williams, Gramps, and I were in Gramps’ bedroom. Grandpa had his antique mandolin out, Gramps was playing one of his electric guitars, and I was there with my flute. It was such a joyous night to have three generations of us in the same room playing at the same time. It didn’t matter what we played and I forget how long that jam session lasted…and it was the only time I can remember the three of us ever playing together! Unfortunately, Grandpa Williams would pass away in 1990 and with me in college, the opportunities just weren’t available for the three of us to get together again.
Until now, that is.
Right before we left, Gramps sat Nicholas on his knee and they started playing at the piano. I couldn’t help but join in on this and I am so thankful that there was a camera to capture it. Nicholas was certainly enjoying hamming it up for the camera (I think he might be the next American Idol in 2023 or so…he’s certainly got the triple threat: the talent, the personality, and the dance moves!).
And honestly, it was all I could do not to cry until we were out on Williamson Boulevard heading north. We managed to recreate the magic of a night long ago but with one important difference: I am quite convinced that there were four generations of us there…three of us playing and one watching us from above and smiling all the while!
Who knows where Nicholas’ musical explorations may take him. He’s certainly got enough musical input (if not outright overload!). But that journey is up to him…we’ll make sure he can play whatever he chooses, or not if that’s what he wants as well. But I think he’s always going to have that appreciation for music no matter what…it’s in his blood and he can’t deny that! 🙂
The trip itself was uneventful…Nicholas is such a wonderful traveler and he sleeps most of the way. We made the usual stops at the Cracker Barrel and McDonald’s for their changing tables (or so we thought…the McDonald’s at Exit 20 in Lumberton doesn’t have a changing table in either restroom…and it’s not the best McDonald’s in the world, either). Guess we’ll stop at the one at Exit 17 instead for the future…
