Can you feel the music? I can. The music moves my very soul, the notes the singer sings touches my very heart. They can make me dance, sing, laugh, and cry. Each cord played on the strings sends goosebumps down to my bones and I lose sight of this very physical world.
As I am laying in my room listening to Pink Floyd’s “Wishing You Were Here” the music notes float around me and take me on a journey. It takes me back to good, amazing memories with my stepfather (whom I call dad) and my family. It sends me back to the mid 90’s when valley girls were all the rage and Kurt Cobain was performing on MTV Unplugged. I am sitting on the couch with my sister talking about everything under the sun while my parents entertain friends in the dining room with drinks and music blaring, mostly classic rock of course.
I truly have a love for classics that I inherited from my dad – classic rock and classic cars. If I hadn’t grown up day in and day out listening to music I don’t know if I would have been the same person I am today. I was taught to appreciate music; to listen to the words and to sing them at the top of my lungs. I was taught to let the music move me and was probably dancing before I could even walk. We rarely watched TV as a family but if we did watch TV, music played dully in the background on my dad’s stereo. My friends would wake up to their parents watching the news but in my house we woke up to music every morning. The type of music playing would depend on the kind of day we would have, for example: if my mom was blaring Mexican music or country it meant we were going to be cleaning all day or if my dad was blaring classic rock we were in for some sort of adventure.
I developed my own taste of music later on in life but classic rock was and will always be my anchor. My favorite songs and bands aren’t at all modern, like “Imagine” by John Lennon. This music is my time machine to good time and beautiful memories that I will always treasure.
As the riff on “Wish You Were Here” plays my tears dry and memories come to an end. I will choose to remember my dad as the guy who taught me my love for great music because not only can I feel the music but it is the link to my good memories.
RIP Dad, Jimmy Y. Perez we love you and wish you were here!
Written by: April Ibarra