When I was a child, I remember listening to my father’s music and thinking that my dad must be so old to listen to music that was written so long ago: before I was even born. Now, I am 37 years old. My senior year of high school is just over half my life away. When I listen to the songs my youth, I wonder if my kids must feel the same way. I’m fortunate that my teenage son actually thinks I have good taste in music. Even if he’d mostly rather listen to the stuff that’s new to his generation, I still take pride in knowing that he knows who the Smashing Pumpkins are, has heard Nirvana’s Nevermind, and was excited to attend a Green Day concert.
I’m so grateful that I got to enjoy Dad’s music. It heavily informed what I would grow to love as a teenager, a young adult, and then later, a father.