Soaking In My Own Heritage
The two photos tell the story of some of the history of my dad and Willie Freeman's friendship and music. One photo is from a high school quartet in the 1950s. Dad and Willie are standing on the right. The other photo is from several years ago with their wives, my mom and Willie's wife, Doris, still singing in churches, benefit concerts, assisted living homes, etc.
Some of my earliest memories are of going to “singing practice” at Willie and Doris’ or at Owen and Norma’s, Willie’s parents’ home. It wasn’t just rehearsal, it was usually an occasion where we gathered and visited. There were always instruments, microphones, coffee, non-singing spouses, and children everywhere. I can remember running around in the backyard with the other children chasing lightning bugs with the music from inside the house filling the yard.
Since I wrote this almost ten years ago, my parents, Willie, and Doris have passed. When planning Willie's memorial service, Doris was adamant that it was not to be somber, but a tribute to the spiritual and musical legacy that he left behind. Their youngest son, Greg, preached. Their four children, Willie's brother, and friends sang favorite songs.
I drove to Missouri to attend the visitation, but my schedule didn’t allow me to attend the memorial service. I attended a rehearsal with my dad to listen to the music for the service. It occurred to me that I was attending another rehearsal, the last rehearsal, involving my dad and Willie.
Willie’s four children sang. I don’t think they sang together often, but the harmony was rich and it was a treat to hear. They communicated while singing as only families do. A movement of the hand, raised eyebrow, or eye contact that signals the direction of the music. There were pages of lyrics but no written notation. This music came from years of hearing harmony and just knowing how to sing and blend. As I listened to my dad play piano and sing with Willie’s kids, I traveled down a road of countless memories, humming the songs, knowing the arrangements, and just soaking in my own heritage.
