These Foolish Things Remind Me of You

So. We're having friends over for dinner, and usually when I cook I want music on, something rockin' with a beat. Motown usually works. Janis. Allman Bros. Stones. But today, after something of a hellish week where I don't have much brain left, I wanted order and something soothing. Not too orderly as in Bach, but something with passion tied up in a neat bow. Beethoven!

I can't help but think of my father when ever I hear Beethoven. Classical music was his life's blood, and the hours I listened to KKHI as a child...Well, it was a lot. There was always that terrible moment when a new song would come on and my father would grill me and my sister as to which composer has written this specific piece. We never knew, but then we were eight and six at the time, so I consider a little slack is in order. As I grew older, I grew more savvy, and when the quizzing would start, I began to say Beethoven automatically in the hopes that I'd be right. Luckily, it more often than not turned out to be Beethoven. Lucky me.

Anyway, I was listening to the Pathetique sonata, a piece that I tried in vain to learn, and I thought of my father. Nice, kind thoughts, actually. And then I wondered about the other givens in my life. Dad = Beethoven. The smell of bacon = my mother (who still to this day cooks a full breakfast every Sunday morning). Nail clippers = my husband (who once tried valiantly to protect me from a bunch of homeless people who were circling a phone booth we were in with the file attached to his nail clippers). St. Patrick's Day = my friends Micheal and Tanya (who give the best party ever). And that kind of laughter where you cry it's so funny = my sister. Because we when get together, we laugh like that.