Here's To Dear Old Dad


Since this weekend is Father's Day, I thought I'd offer a tribute to the fathers of the world by pointing out how my own dear Dad unwittingly got me into this hobby oh so many years ago.

It was my twelfth birthday. As I opened the box, I wasn't quite sure what to expect. Inside was a little, gray, plastic, Sony cassette tape recorder. At first I wasn't quite sure what to make of it. But, as time went by and I acquired my own little collection of tapes, I grew to love that little machine. And the hours of pleasure listening to music gave me. Of course, over the years my systems grew in price and complexity, but that's another story...

Does anyone else have any similar stories they'd like to share?
kinsekd
Never talked with my father about thhis hobby, im sure he would consider it a waste of time.

All the love in the world for my pop though.
An excellent man, and i hope i can be even half the man he was.
My dad is 84 and still makes mix tapes for the residents at the care facility that houses my mother. He visits her every day and always starts the music playing. Although an attack of viral encephalitis has left her unable to speak, she still moves to the beat.

When I was 9, he brought home a component stereo for the family on Christmas Eve. Within the hour, a dance party had broken out in our living room with Ella, Frank, Tommy and Jimmy in amazing stereo! The whole neighborhood partied until the wee hours.

For 11 years, he was co-owner of several bootleg supper clubs on the blues and jazz circuit. Many nights my sleep was disturbed to come to a club and hear amazing music. I’ve sat beside Count Basie on the piano bench as my dad kept his glass filled. I’ve watched my mother twist with Chubby Checkers. I’ve seen my dad jitterbug on a table top as Louis Jordan blew down the house. I watched wild eyed from beside the band stand as Ray Charles rocked back and forth singing “Born to Loose” and “You Don’t Know Me”.

During the day, my dad managed a laundry. He always kept a key to the back door of the GC Murphy across the alley from the laundry so he could easily enter the record department when the new stock was delivered on Thursdays. We had every new single that came to town!

When I was 11, he brought home a used piano and I embarked on an eighteen year journey that allowed me to play with some of the best musicians of my time.

Thanks Dad!
I remember the early years when my father used to play music on his Grundig Radiogram. The equipment fascinated me. Looking at the black shiny disks spinning fast and with a needle on top of it producing all the sounds always intrigued me. I had no idea why the system sounded so good; today when I look back I can understand why! It was a one-piece system; everything was almost perfectly matched and had the tubes! I had no way of comparing the equipment, but whatever was being reproduced had sounded very good.

In 1968 when I was 10 years old he bought a very nice little record player, Philips it was, with a diamond stylus and two speakers which would fold and become the top cover when not in use. For first few years he bought all the records for me and whenever there was an occasion he would give me an LP as a present. He got posted abroad and used to send LP's every month in the parcel. Whatever appreciation I have today of music is only because of him.

He passed away on August 30, 1999, 13 days short of his 65th birthday. I miss him greatly and so does my 14 year old son, who seem to have lost his best friend.

Love you Papa!
My dad bought me stereo at an auction when I was eight. It had a radio and a turntable integrated in a free standing complete unit. I used to listen to my parents' old records on this system. They didn't have too much I was interested in but i sure did enjoy the Elvis records. I guess this was my first system.
Sadly he died young (48) when I was eighteen. I am grateful for everything he did for me and the values and lessons I learned from him as I grew up. I lost a father and a friend. To those of you who still have you father, hoist a glass to dear old dad on Sunday. I'll be thinking about mine.
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