The story of my father is fiction at best. I don’t have a lot of facts to back it up, just things I’ve heard, and a few unreliable memories of my own. But even in fiction, there are nuggets of truth to be found. And though the truth is fickle and colored by my perspective, it’s my version, at least for today.
Gifts I got from my father.
My laugh. I’ve been told I have a loud laugh. My husband says he can find me in any crowded room just by the sound of my laugh. My kids used to tell me they could hear me laughing from outside the building. I never really thought about it until the day I drove down from Nashville for a short visit with my dad on his farm. We had just said our goodbyes, and as I was walking to my car, he yelled out one more last goodbye, and then he laughed. I froze. I knew that laugh, it was mine.
My long fingers. This body I experience life through is no small miracle. Although I had nothing to do with the genes that made me, I am grateful that my dad gave me his long fingers. They’ve come in handy when reaching into small spaces. They also stretch easily across four frets on my bass guitar.
Stories. The stories I’ve heard about the way my father lived his life have given me lots of good reasons to love him for who he was. Sometimes, I can see a reflection of him in me. The amazing thing is that these stories never get old because they constantly change —some details become more vivid, while others fade.
Life. The best gift I got from my father was life. I wouldn’t be here if it weren't for him. He was a vital part of the equation in the story of me. And if that was the only gift I ever got from him, it’s enough.
Those of you who have been traveling with me for a while have heard me tell a story or two about my father. Most of them are second-hand, but I did make up a couple of my own and turned them into the songs Perfect Strangers and Christmas in July, the latter of which I wrote after a phone call from my stepmom, letting me know of his passing.
Perfect Strangers
by Trisha Leone
I’ve got your hands, I’ve got your smile
When I look into the mirror, it’s you I recognize
You’re a little like me, I’m a lot like you
Digging through the ashes, finding nuggets of some truth
In a field of stones, in a field of stones
We are perfect strangers
Somewhere deep inside I know you well
Worlds apart aren’t as far as they seem
Perfect strangers, you and me
You’ve got that laugh, that cuts through the room
When you are nervous, you bite your lip, I do that too
I apologize, I don’t mean to stare
It amazes and intrigues me to see you standing there
It feels like home, it feels like home
We are perfect strangers
Yet somewhere deep inside I know you well
Worlds apart aren’t as far as they seem
Perfect strangers, you and me
I’ve had years to think about what I would say
When I met you face to face but the words have faded away
Time doesn’t wait, didn’t save my place
It’s here and now, I see that fate has made no mistake
You close the gate, and I drive away
If we’re never at this place again, at least we had today
Love is complete, love is complete
Listen to the song Perfect Strangers on Bandcamp or below
Christmas In July
by Trisha Leone Sandora
They’re forecasting snow tonight, high in these Tennessee hills
It’s 80 degrees in the shade, but I swear I feel a chill
A phone call brings bad news
I knew then that it was true
He had hitched a ride on those storm clouds passing through
I’ll bet he’s skiing right now
Cold air blowing up the back of his jacket
Sliding fast down the side of that mountain
In his leather gloves and cowboy hat
I’ll bet he’s skiing right now
There’s no more just talking about it
It’s an early Christmas in July in Tennessee
A young boy in Denver
Kicking a can up the street
A train through the mountains, riding the rails of a dream
Lookin’ for the next big surprise
The one that would light up my eyes
To remind me that I’m alive
I’ll bet he’s skiing right now
Cold air blowing up the back of his jacket
Sliding fast down the side of that mountain
In his leather gloves and cowboy hat
I’ll bet he’s skiing right now
There’s no more just talking about it
It’s an early Christmas in July in TennesseeListen to the song Christmas in July on Bandcamp or below