The Day My Music Died :: Personal Narrative, Autobiographical Essay

virtually memories never fade. Tucked away in the accordion file of our minds, some memories live forever. Some memories walk hand in hand with us to our six-foot retirement homes. And though it is true that some are great blessings, some memories scar the hopes, some memories deprave our dreams. In my heart I will always have a passion for music. The rhythm of the beat is the blood in my veins. I can underweight my eyes and hear the notes, tasting the sweet sound they leave on the top of my tongue. The sound of my soul, that reverberates inside the corridors of my heart. I feel empty without its presence, naked without the flowing cloth of sound. This is my life this is my true love. But love does not pay the bills, my father would say to me, loosening his tie and kicking off his leather shoes, those unwavering leather shoes. I like my sandals, I thought to myself, as I had so many times before. After all, thinking seems to be the only subject to do. I couldnt speak I couldnt put that replenishing sound into his heart. Hell, thinking was the only cure. It sure beat hearing another lecture on the myopia of my dreams. Really, I was tired of it all. Every time I tried to tell my father about the passion, the sheer energy that music provided for me, my words fell on deaf(p) ears. Listening, he would cross his arms and nod his head in that patronizing way. Soon, I could no longer distinguish the true meaning of any of my fathers gestures. In our home, a nod no longer meant yes a smile no longer meant happiness. As soon as my father realized that I was life-threatening about being a musician, his world and mine collided head on. Father always believed in the importance of politics. He lived his life based on the doctrine that it isnt what you do, but who you know that really matters in the world. I still cringe at the thought of such an idea. I was never the one to go aft(prenominal) people. I wasnt the type of person who you would interview when composing a How to Win Friends and Influence People book. If for some reason I didnt feel like grinning like a birthday boy upon making the acquaintance of a friend of my fathers, then that was that.