Today is my Daddy’s birthday

He would have been 87, had he not died half my life ago.

This year I turned the same age he was when he died. And relatively speaking, I’m young. OK, middle-age. But even middle-age is too young to die!

I’m just getting my second wind, or third, or fourth … maybe not even my last. I’m only now beginning to figure out who I am, what my unique gift is, that which I must share before I leave it behind.

In his time, my Daddy shared his talent and love for music. He had a beautiful tenor voice, which he gave forth with gusto. As a child, I was embarrassed at how loud he would sing on the rare occasions when my family sat together in the pews of a congregation. Now, I guess the fact that his gift soared several rows away in all directions was his way of sharing. Many times I’ve longed to hear that big voice again.

From the director’s podium, he shared his sense of humor and his ability to inspire choral cooperation from choirs of all ages. In all my life of singing in school, competition, church, and semi-professional community choirs, no other choral conductor could surpass his talent in my eyes. No other conductor could so effectively instill in me the fear of making a musical mistake.

That’s the Daddy I love, admire, and remember, and whose enduring gift I receive again as I honor his memory today.

Paul A. Robertson
1924–1982

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    • Scot
    • July 22nd, 2011

    What a wonderful tribute. I know he is proud of you and we are blessed to share this life with you.

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