No Regrets

When I was four years old, our family moved to Lubbock, Texas.  To me, those were the Wonder Years, when the whole family lived under one roof.  Music was always playing, and once in awhile, Mom and Dad would sing to one another from across the room.  It was like living in a musical.  Life was simpler then… Life was good.

One day, when I was about five years old, my Dad was playing one of his favorite Sinatra records, and I heard “Strangers in the Night” for the first time.  I walked over to the piano and played something like this:

(Michael Kramer played a simple melody line from “Strangers in the Night” with one finger)

What my Dad heard was this:

(Michael Kramer played the same thing beautifully)

My Dad, who never had lessons and didn’t read music, could play piano by ear beautifully.  He thought he had a five-year-old musical prodigy on his hands.  This led to many years of piano lessons… and… RECITALS.  As fate would have it, my sister and I inherited our mother’s stage fright instead of our Dad’s love for performing and public speaking.

The greatest gift my father ever gave me was a passion for music.  It’s in my blood, and I thank him every day for it.

I’m so proud of my Dad. He was a good man, and a wonderful father. We had the best of childhoods.  A lot of that had to do with the fact that he had such impeccable taste in women.  Our mom was something else… and he knew it from the moment he laid eyes on her.

In “Forks in the Road,” the autobiography he wrote for us several years ago, Dad said he had only one regret in life: that he spent too much time working and not enough time with his wife.  He only realized this after he lost her.  If you really want to honor my father, turn the computer off. Put your briefcase away.  Turn on a little Frank Sinatra and sing and dance with the one you love.  Let your children see it.  Let your children hear it.  Live your lives without regret.  Dad would want it that way.