"LEADER
OF THE BAND" by Bob Jinkerson
I am never one to listen casually to music--whether it’s shuffle playing
five of my CDs or listening to one of many radio stations I may have on at any
given time. Because I am a musician, singer and songwriter myself I tend
to pay closer attention to all of the elements of a recording--the lyrics, the
arrangement, the vocal ability of the singer. But some songs trigger an
emotional reaction that goes beyond even my normal listening mode.
“Leader of the Band” by Dan Fogelberg is one such song.
My Dad was a machinist by trade and a frustrated musician by avocation.
No one loved and appreciated music more and no one had a stronger desire to be
on a stage performing it. He tried several instruments, playing by ear and
going so far with them but he never quite achieved the kind of proficiency he
dreamed of. He had a gift of gab and was a very good MC, however.
I rebelled, as so many youngsters do, against his desire that I use the
talents I was blessed with to try to fulfill the dream he never could. I
was embarrassed when he showed me off to his friends-feeling he was forcing me
on them. But when I began performing professionally and got a taste of
what it was like to be cheered by an appreciative audience it got in my blood
and has remained there to this day. There is no feeling in the world like
performing.
Dad would brag to people that he “always kept instruments around” for me
to play. That was certainly true, but in my youthful ignorance I silently
resented what I felt was his attempt to take credit for my abilities and
talents.
Dad’s pride was so evident it was like an electricity emitting from the
smile on his face when I performed. He always felt free to volunteer my
services for benefits in addition to my regular band jobs. He would play
his electric bass, do the MC chores and proudly introduce me to the audiences.
We would occasionally do a duet on some old country tune and our voices blended
together nicely if I do say so myself. But while I was able to keep it in
check, that resentment lurked in the back of my mind.
Dad has been gone for 15 years now. I would give anything if I could
see that smile now, knowing that I have achieved at least a small measure of
local success by opening for some of the artists he admired. I wish I
could tell him I’m sorry for those rebel years--that I appreciate his pride
and the fact that there was always music in our home. I wish I could
apologize for any of the resentment I once felt and I wish I could let him know
that I have grown up to learn that he was happy for me because I was fulfilling
his dream-not trying to intrude on mine. I know now that our dreams were
the same.
“His blood runs through my instrument and his song is in my soul”
Fogelberg says and it is so true. Every song I play and every word I sing
contains a reflection of him. But the line that gets to me most of
all, the one that makes my eyes well up everytime I hear it, is Fogelberg’s
line “I thank you for the music and the times when you got tough, and Papa I
don’t think I said I love you near enough”. Dad, I do love you and I
thank you, and God, for all of our times together and the music we shared.
Bob Jinkerson works in client support for the St. Louis Society for the Blind and is also a part-time professional singer and musician. He writes a monthly nostalgia column for the PITTSBURGH BOOMERS monthly newspaper, an occasional piece for his suburban weekly newspaper and assisted in writing several chapters for the book "The Chronicle of Baseball" by John Mehno. He has several other writing projects in the works and is excited to have found SOUNDSPARKS. He and his wife Nancy live in suburban St. Louis. He can be contacted at: musicbob@hotmail.com