Love songs

Last night Mum and I attended Engelbert Humperdinck’s 40th anniversary concert. When she first mooted the idea, I balked.

Engelbert Humperdinck? No!!! Watch a geriatric who has probably lost his voice singing songs that are so passé was not my idea of fun. But it was what she wanted so… we went.

I enjoyed myself. He was the consummate entertainer who made the audience laugh at his jokes and sing along as he sang. And yes, he could still sing, sounding very much like the cassettes we used to listen to in the car.

Listening to him croon his love songs transported me into the past. I was once again that nine-year-old, sitting in the car with my brothers and my mother, as my father sat in the driver’s seat.

I could see us on a road trip in Malaysia, heading towards the ocean and loads of fun in the sun. As Dad drove along the narrow roads, we were all bubbling with excitement and the joy of being on vacation. We sang along with each familiar, loved song as the miles sped by. What a joyous time.

In that instant, I really missed my Dad, who was our rock, our provider, our fun-loving father who introduced us to the simple pleasures and the finer points of life.

Music is such a powerful evocator of childhood memories, nostalgia’s second cousin. As Engelbert closed the show with his rendition of My way, I was reminded of Dad, who was a maverick, a man who marched to the beat of his own drum, and therefore not easily understood. That song was one of his personal favourites.

Although my father always regretted that he did not leave us much when he passed on, I beg to differ. He left behind a treasure trove of memories of his love for his family. What could be more priceless?