john m. borack remembers. buhdge

buhdge remembers yesterday, and then some

Guest Remembrances

"Many of these musical memories have become intertwined with memories of my father."

Total Eclipse of the Heart

by John M. Borack

It all began with the Beatles and “Baby, You’re a Rich Man.”

I'm speaking of my love affair with pop music. I recall in 1967, at the tender age of five, pestering my father to buy me a copy of the Fab Four’s current single. From that point on, music became an integral part of my life.

It might sound terribly cliched, but many pop/rock songs from the 1960s up through today have provided me with a sort of soundtrack for my life, with particular tunes bringing back especially vivid mental images. Many of these musical memories have become intertwined with memories of my father.

I remember thinking while I was growing up how cool it seemed that my dad actually liked rock ‘n’ roll; there were no Johnny Mathis or Mitch Miller records to be found near our family’s massive Victrola. Instead, I can remember listening to my dad’s Sonny and Cher, Mamas and Papas, and Elvis Presley albums, as well as my ever-growing stack of Beatles 45s. While on family outings, I sang along (poorly, of course) to my father’s Creedence Clearwater Revival eight-track tapes in his ’67 Chevy pickup.

By the time I turned 10, my dad had become sort of a surrogate “Friday Night Father” to many kids in our neighborhood. I can recall umpteen trips to the local miniature golf course, with a crowd of kids packed in the pickup, singing Three Dog Night’s “Joy to the World” (one of my dad’s favorites) at the top of our collective lungs. I still get chills today whenever I hear that song’s distinctive opening; the memory takes me back to a wonderful time when all seemed right with the world.

In my early twenties, another music-fueled moment occurred which I will never forget. My father and I had become co-workers, and while we made our daily trek home from the job one afternoon, Bonnie Tyler’s emotionally-charged ballad “Total Eclipse of the Heart” blared from the radio. My dad and I sat and listened in silence as we drove.

After a few minutes, I looked over to find tears rolling down my father’s cheeks, which was a highly unusual occurrence. I said nothing, but it was that day I learned the powerful effect music could have on people.

My dad passed away nearly 12 years ago. On the day he died, I put “Total Eclipse of the Heart” on the CD player and wept. And the night before I wrote this, I heard the happy sounds of “Joy to the World” over the public address system at Anaheim Stadium.

I looked towards the sky and smiled.

February 28, 2005