The misadventures of a first time father

Category Archives: Music

faded-music-sheetThe little guy and I went for a short walk when out of his mouth he says to me:

“Memories lose their meaning…”

When I asked him what he meant he said he had no idea, but my head began swirling nonetheless. I couldn’t shake it as we walked along, internally laying out the case with myself like Sherlock Holmes trying to unravel a mystery.

Anything we possess, the places where we live, it all comes and goes.

In the larger scheme of life, we’re here for such a short period of time.

In the end, our memories are all we have. But there are memories that fade. Things we can’t quite recall in the vivid ways we once did. Which ones start to fade and what dictates that they do? Is it because we are filled with new memories, or were they not vivid enough to burn permanent places in our brains?

I thought of the memory videos I make for the kids around each birthday time, filled with photos and videos of the previous year. I’m always amazed to see how he recalls things that happen when he was a baby, or a year, etc…something I’ve often wondered if could be attributed to the videos (which he enjoys watching and asks to see rather frequently) reinforce those memories, making them less likely to fade as quickly.

Where was this all coming from? What did it mean? What memories were once of the utmost importance to me but have since faded and lost their meaning?

And how was he so astute to blurt out this mind-blowing revelation to me on our walk?!

It rattled my brain.

Later, while riding in the car, after all that contemplation at this profound statement, Meg reminded me that it’s actually a line from the Beatles song In My Life.

He’s been a fan of the Beatles for some time, the Sgt Pepper album especially. Much like cartoons, comics and pop culture, a lot seems to come, not from us pushing anything on him, but his mere exposure to it through us – what we’re reading, watching, listening to. Some things he honestly admits he doesn’t like, and others (like superheroes, or The Beatles, or The Monkees, or certain Christmas songs) he latches onto and weaves it into the fabric of his own mind and personality.

Recently he found himself overjoyed upon our discovering a Netflix Original Series called Beat Bugs, a CGI animated series about a group of friends who are various bugs and learn valuable childhood and life lessons often told in musical number renditions of Beatles songs.

Oh, and did I mention that he recently told us his favorite Christmas song was Wonderful Christmas Time by Paul McCartney? It’s one of quite a catalog of Christmas songs he spontaneously has burst into this time of year.

It makes me happy to see a whole new generation discovering the music, the meaning, and the spirit of timeless bands, whether it The Beatles, or other favorites of his such as Mamas and the Papas or The Monkees.

And even if dear old daddy can’t tell the difference between a song lyric or a moment of profound life guidance from a preschooler.

Of course later that same day, from the backseat I hear…

“You have to let things wash over your victims.”

“What, buddy?” I ask.

He laughs, followed by a chuckling “I have no idea what that means.”

Me neither. Except that, sometimes it may be profound, sometimes it’s just repeating (or partially repeating) what they pick up elsewhere, or just kids being goofy kids.

And whatever it is, it’s a-okay by me. I’m just enjoying the ride.


Colorful Composters“What’s the purple guy’s name?”

The question came out of the blue from the backseat of the car one afternoon driving home,

I looked around – nope, no one dressed in purple out shoveling their driveway or going for a jog that he might be looking at.

Just a moment or two ago, we were talking about the music on the radio. He always likes to ask “What’s this guy’s name?” which I’ve come to learn is his way of asking who the artist is. I tend to keep it to two channels in the car when he’s with me – SiriusXm Symphony Hall for classical and sometimes 40s on 4 for some music from the Big Band era. (I save the 80s and 60s music for when I’m on my own.)

We go over the names, and his retention has been fantastic, remembering names like Mozart and Beethoven, and even Vivaldi, of whom he says “That’s a silly name!”

So, as he kept asking me who the ‘purple guy’ is, I honestly had no idea what he was talking about.

Then he kept going, informing me that Beethoven is red, Mozart is blue, and Vivaldi is orange, and asking once, again “What’s the purple guy’s name?”

I didn’t have an answer for him, but while confused, felt like I finally had some kind of explanation. Whoever this ‘purple guy’ was, it must have been someone associated with the music.

This could have just been some one and done car game he was playing, but it also made me look a little further into something I was only peripherally aware of previously – something called synesthesia.

I’m not saying that what he did was any indication of synesthesia, just that it prompted me to look into it a little more out of curiosity.

Synesthesia is defined as a condition where one of our senses (such as hearing) is, at the same time, perceived as if by one or more additional senses, such as our sight. There is another form of synesthesia that associates objects like letters, shapes, numbers or people’s names with a sensory perception such as smell, color or flavor. The word synesthesia comes from two Greek words, syn (together) and aisthesis (perception). Therefore, synesthesia literally means “joined perception.”

The most common form of synesthesia is colored letters and numbers, when someone always sees a particular color in response to a certain letter or number. (“Nine is green, B is red,” that sort of thing.)

According to a Neuroscience for Kids site by a faculty member at the University of Washington, there isn’t an official way to diagnose synesthesia, but researchers have set up some guidelines (although it isn’t something all are in agreement upon; it serves merely as a starting point for diagnosis):

  • a potential synesthete does not actively think about their perceptions; they just happen.
  • instead of experiencing something in the “mind’s eye,” such as when you’re asked to think of or imagine a color, a synesthete often actually, physically sees a color projected outside of the body.
  • it has to be perceived the same way every time. If you see red when you hear the letter B, it has to be red every time.
  • the color is often remembered better than the object, name, letter, etc associated with it. (i.e. you’d remember orange better than you would Vivaldi).
  • The perceptions also cause emotional reactions and feelings.

There doesn’t seem to be a definite estimate of how many people can have synesthesia, according to the research by the Washington University faculty member. The ranges seem to go from 1 in 200 to 1 in 100,000, and notes that there are probably many more folks who have it but don’t realize they have it. They often tend to be women (three times more likely in the U.S. than men), are more often left-handed, are of normal or possibly above-average intelligence and that it often times seems to be inherited.

I find this to be a fascinating area of study, and whether the little guy actually did see a color, or our little composer bit was just a one and done episode of silliness that prompted me to learn a little more about synesthesia, well, color me interested.


Whether they know it or not, everyone has a story to tell.

However, some folks never tell their stories because they think they have nothing to say – that their life is too boring.

It’s with that in mind, that I set out to create a photo essay that took something routine and mundane – just a random day in my life – and captured it in photos in an attempt to create a visually appealing story told in images from throughout that terribly ordinary day.

I found that what might be routine or boring to some on the surface turned out to be a day filled with beauty and engaging sights and images, had I just taken the steps back to look at them more often.

Here’s my story:

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© Copyright 2010 CorbisCorporationWe have a bit of a commute in the morning, the little guy and I.

Breaking it down to even numbers, it’s about a half hour for us to get to his grandmother’s house in the morning, and then another half hour (roughly, maybe slightly less) for daddy to get to work from there.

Needless to say, that gives us quite a bit of time together in the car, even though, on good days, he sleeps through most of the ride. Which, for a little boy who doesn’t take naps, we will gladly take right now so he’s getting SOME sleep.

What has happened, though, and has turned into routine, is the type of music we listen to in the car to and from each morning. I’m fortunate enough to have Sirius XM Radio in my car, and have been switching between their Pops channel and Symphony Hall channels in the morning and evening rides. You can likely use any free, public radio station that pumps classical, though.

It’s been calming for him, and apparently for daddy too, because while I used to switch it back over to 80s on 8 or The Bridge for some Simon and Garfunkel after dropping the little guy off, I find myself, without even thinking of it, continuing to listen to the classical stations even after I’ve dropped him off and before I pick him up.

While not the intention of my post, it’s hard to write a post about classical music and children and not mention that there are some studies out there that believe classical music can help boost a child’s ability to learn, their coordination and other attributes. Some people dispute these studies, so take them as you like. I’m not here to prove a point one way or the other on that one. We just enjoy listening to the music, that’s all.

However, I will mention some other recorded benefits of Classical Music while we’re on the topic. Reportedly, in London, England, when the British Transport Police piped classical music into London Underground stations in some of the area’s most dangerous neighborhoods for six months, they found that robberies were cut by 33 percent,staff assaults decreased by 25 percent and vandalism went down 37 percent. Some studies in hospitals found that heart patients s from listening to 30 minutes of classical music as they did from taking the drug Valium (which I think is phenomenal, as I’m a big proponent of not having to pop pills whenever possible).

According to the American Music Therapy Association, music therapy can be used to help people of all ages with mental health needs, developmental and learning disabilities; Alzheimer’s disease, brain injuries, physical disabilities, substance abuse and even help mothers in labor.

You be the judge, though. Give some classical music a try in your life and see if it boosts your spirits. It might boost some other things in your health, mental and physically as well, but that’s for you to decide.

We’ll take it, though.

Whether it’s been Mozart, Bach, Beethoven, or any other composer joining us for the morning ride, we’ve been thoroughly enjoying your company, guys.


My son, only a week or so old, has quite the well-developed set of lungs.

He likes to show them off to us usually ni the middle of the night, working himself into such a tizzy during breastfeeding that he’s too worried about screaming to get fed than actually feeding.

Hey, when you’re under 14 days old, you get a lot of slack.

So, last night in the wee hours of the morning, while my wife set up next to me in bed, struggling with the little one, I looked over to my my Alarm Clock/Radio/CD Player on the nightstand and remembered the CD inside – Simon and Garfunkel’s Greatest Hits.

So, I flicked the switch to Track 8 “At the Zoo” – a song we used to listen to a lot when he was in utero.

It took a little bit, but before the song ended, he had begun to calm down, becoming much more manageable through “Fakin’ It,” “Mrs. Robinson,” “Old Friends,” and my personal favorite, “The Boxer,” which all followed. Meg then joined in singing a few bars, which also helped “soothe the savage beast,” as they say. 🙂

A few diaper changes and tears followed, of course, but thank you, Paul Simon, and thank you, Art Garfunkel, for helping calm my little boy down, and making the middle of the night feedings and diaper changes a little more groovy.



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