Every once in a while you have the type of day that reminds you how blessed you are to have a child. Of course I’m always grateful, but occasionally like all things in life, parenthood tends to involve all the logistics and intricacies of many other responsibilities. I guess that’s why it’s so important to break out of routines and experience new things, placing you on an almost equal footing with the child. PinF had that type of experience recently, and I’m quite sure it will rank as a memorable day for the both of us. I’m speaking of course of my indomitable little power house of pop----Sophia. With her music steadily improving, I decided to let her record her three songs at a local studio after hearing her play the songs. Of course all parents "hear" music in their child’s efforts on any instrument, and I'm no less subjective than any other proud parent. The difference for me was not so much her musical ability as it was her writing ability. Sophie had composed three songs of substance, each with metaphors, similes, and irony. I of course was a bit skeptical—not to mention stunned at her ability. I went so far as to flat out ask her where the lyrics came from—despite knowing what a smart girl she is, and excellent writer as well. Still, I had to ask. Once I was sure of the originality of her lyrics, I knew also that what she was composing musically and lyrically---all alone mind you, was something very special and had to be captured. And so without telling her I inquired of a friend at work whose cousin is a sound engineer at a local recording studio. Once given a green light on an hour of studio time, I then asked Sophie whether she was interested—true to her personality she confidently replied she was. So it was done, we would go to the studio on Sunday afternoon and "lay down" three tracks she had written, composed on her bass guitar and sings. Nervous, yet undaunted we drove down to the studio, on the way she was definitely starting to become more nervous and decided she wanted to discuss her studio time with a veteran and tried reaching her uncle Scott---to no avail. She forged on anyway, and once in the studio was put at ease by the Puerto Rican engineer, who was putty after her heard her sing her lyrics in Spanish.
The rest? Well as they say its history, with the help of my good friend Sergio, he set up an artist’s MySpace for Sophie, and downloaded the recording and video of the session. I was, as you could imagine, the proud father just watching my quickly growing "little" girl, evolving into a confident person. As I said, what really struck me were her lyrics. Even the soundman, he a veteran of international musical experience, who worked in Nashville for 10 years, told me that what she had written was quite special considering her age. They are incredibly advanced lyrics for a child of nine, as is her confidence in her abilities. If I do nothing else in this life, I am determined to raise a girl who matures into a confident, capable woman of substance and depth, with many facets to her personality and character-- after witnessing what I did this past week-end I’m quite confident she’s on her way. The innocence of her youth occasionally lifts its veil to reveal the young lady of tomorrow; this is what happened on Sunday. I looked at Sophia in a different light---of course as a proud father, but also as man who can see what / who she is becoming.
Suddenly she wasn’t my "little" girl, but rather a smart, confident, and nice young lady who knew who she was, where she was going, and what she wants out of life. This to me (as a father) in of it self, is both revelatory and scary all at once since as a parent—you want to slowly savor each day of the discovery and wisdom gathering process of your child (or so you should). Though like sand through your fingers, you just can’t enjoy each and every grain of the many experiences of a child’s life. So you grab hold of the more prominent and special times, and you try, to really remember the swell of pride and that feeling deep down inside of intense emotion. Knowing full well, that the real gems in life are like photos taken when she isn’t looking—they’re the little less-pronounced moments, the glance, or maybe the connection without words—we had all of these. All the time knowing as well that just as light refracts in many directions and colors through a prism, she is seeing and experiencing this "moment" in a completely different light. Yes, you’re both here, but something tells you you’re in different places of the moment. The real fun will come one day when she can relate the moment and its impression upon her little psyche when she is an adult, though once again, I’m in no hurry to get there.
Still, the best part of the day was in watching her realize that what she had accomplished was created completely by her own little mind, hands, and voice; and that this was a lesson that only she could’ve taught herself.
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