Not what I had in mind.  The day has flown by and I am doing my duty here at nearly 9 PM.  I am tired.   But I am very thankful.

I am sitting here listening to a CD of Barry Manilow’s Greatest Hits.  As a kid I bought the 2 LP set.  That was 1978.  If you can pinpoint an anomaly in my existence, it is that I knew Barry Manilow’s catalog inside and out when I was ten years old.  I was drawn to his voice and I was drawn to an emotion that I could relate to at a very young age.  It was all about being in tune with music, I suppose.  I have always been there.  The difference is it took a tragedy and a case of depression before I picked up a guitar and found a world I knew existed but had not explored.  That was twenty years ago.  Time flies.

I don’t tire of listening to Barry Manilow, even to this day.  Albeit I do listen to him when no one is around.  A guilty pleasure I suppose.  Typing these words is as close as I have ever come to say, “Hey you gotta hear this Barry Manilow tune!”

I don’t mind.  I am not ashamed.  It has worked out so far.  And I when I hear some of these songs I am reminded of spinning them on a mono record player on 204 South Jackson Street in Brownstown as the ten year old kid.  When I hear the opening strains of “Weekend in New England” I am a kid again.  When my dear wife, Carrie, and I went to see the “long rocky beaches” in Rye, New Hampshire and up into Maine in 2011, I knew I had found a piece of my youth I had been looking for.  The lobster roll in Rye was great, by the way.

What prompted me to put in Barry Manilow?  He was sitting on the desk.  Nothing more than that.  I had a Gregg Allman CD playing and I was not feeling it.  Where else are going to find that?  Gregg Allman out and Barry Manilow in?  You won’t.

That has been my musical life.  I have been in a room by myself most of my life when it comes to music.  The Moody Blues?  My pals weren’t about them.  Thankfully my dear wife, Carrie, developed an appreciation for The Moodies beyond me dragging her to the next concert.  She KNOWS how exceptional The Moody Blues are.  We have seen The Moody Blues 29 times together and have seen three Justin Hayward solo shows.  That is hearing “Nights in White Satin” 32 times.  Doesn’t get any better.

No.  I never saw Barry Manilow.  My Mom and Dad did in December of 1987.  I got them tickets to see Manilow at the Louisville Gardens that year.  They dropped off my little brother, Darrell, at the apartment I was living at in Clarksville near the Green Tree Mall at the time.  Darrell, he was 4 then, and I made pizzas.  It was great fun.  The best part was when Mom and Dad showed up after the show to pick Darrell up.  They had such a great time.  They both had silly good looks on their faces.  That is priceless.

So too is priceless is the look my Dad had on his face today.  After church today, Carrie and I went by the rehab facility where Dad is following his 2nd hip surgery.  Dad looks great!  He spoke of getting back on the golf course again.  The pain that had riddled his face for a long time is now gone.  Thanks be to God.  I could not be happier.  I know my Mom is delighted too.  So is the rest of the family.  Dad has an optimism that he has not realized in a long time.  He needs it.  He deserves it.  He is one of the good guys.

And so it goes.  We will press onward, no matter what kind of music we listen to.  Right now, Barry Manilow is putting a smile on my face.  He has done that for a long time.

Speaking the rights…

Danny Johnson