he overcame poverty and circumstances to achieve some of his dreams. He was my father and the greatest gift he gave me was my existence and my love of music. He once told me that listening to music and creating his own music was a full body experience and I know how that feels. I grew up listening to him playing his guitar, and it is still my favourite instrument. Wherever he is now I hope he's found his "tribe" and is surrounded by beautiful music.

Happy Father's Day to all the dads out there.

I found this fabulous song by Buffy St. Marie, I know he would have loved it.


www.youtube.com/watch?v=o5zb0WTSLsY

Tags:   Jake Doell

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My father was often not present even when he was with us. He would play his guitar, more for himself than us, gaze off into the distance, maybe imagining an alternate reality where he was a famous guitar player with many fans and female admirers and free from the everyday drudgery of work and responsibilities, an unhappy wife and needy children. If he wasn't playing guitar he would pace restlessly and snap his fingers, I was much happier when he wasn't home. Whenever he suddenly decided to pay attention to my prattling, I would become totally discombobulated, freeze up and not be able to look at him. I remember once when I was five we were having a picnic outside as a family. My Mom had brought out our kitchen table and chairs and placed them under a large walnut tree. She had made potato salad and I was chattering away, maybe trying to entertain, when suddenly my father whooped with delight at something I'd said ... omg, he thought I was funny! ... well, this was too much for me and I simply went limp and slid under the table using the tablecloth as a shield from my Dad's unexpected attention :)
He also experienced vivid dreams when he slept and when he was older and I could speak to him without shyness, we would often exchange dream stories. My mother would shake her head and say "I don't dream" ... but I think she had dreams of a life where she was the center of my Dad's world, where she came first instead of his music, and when he retired she wanted all his attention, she felt she deserved it after everything he'd put her through pursuing his dreams and achieving some of them at great cost to their marriage, but she often complained to me that when she spoke to him, he wasn't listening, his thoughts were elsewhere ... off in a world of his own ... and maybe he's there now.

www.youtube.com/watch?v=ghtwfp7w994

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my dad on a borrowed horse, never had his own despite his love for them. Like all of us, he never imagined that he would get old, all I can say that he packed a lot of living in while he was here, so I hope y'all are squeezing every last delectable drop out of your life and licking up the drips on your chin :)
I hope my Dad finally got his horse ... wherever he's gone.

My Dad and I loved Merle Haggard :

www.youtube.com/watch?v=u6evsqCwwzc

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a film negative off one of the first rolls that my father shot with his new Canon camera.
My Dad loved country music, he sang and played guitar professionally and I remember he was not partial to George Jones, didn't like his voice and thought his songs were "cornball" , so when I bought him an Alan Jackson CD where he sang various oldies, and one of them was a duet with George Jones singing one of George's old hits, "A Good Year for the Roses", he begrudgingly admitted it "wasn't as bad as he recalled" :)

www.youtube.com/watch?v=7m9BObgOcng


this song was actually written by Jerry Chesnut, my Dad said that was where the money was, writing the songs, which is true only if you have a good contract. Many artists have songwriters that they pay exorbitant amounts of money to write songs for them that they then say that they wrote :)

My husband and I often say when we see beautiful roses:

"Its a good year for the roses, many blooms still linger there " :)

Tags:   pics Jake's pics a good year for the roses

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"Cause out on the edge of darkness

there rides a peace train

oh peace train take this country

come take me home again ... "

Cat Stevens

photo taken by my Dad somewhere in B.C.'s interior.


I recently watched a documentary made by the grandson of an Italian man who came to B.C. and ended up working on the back breaking job of digging the many train tunnels through our mountains. He died here, a rock from above fell and crushed him. His wife still had all the letters he wrote to her, the grandson read them while journeying through our province to find the exact spot where his grandfather had died. It was a real eye opener on the conditions these men worked under, most of them immigrants from Europe trying to make money to send home.
Anyways, I've always loved trains, so did my Dad, and I'm going to post one of his photos everyday leading up to this Sunday's Fathers Day.
He took this photo with his new Canon FTb that he bought around 1970ish. My son now has it.
My son rephotographed the negative with his digital Canon.

Tags:   train Jake's pics

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