Remembering My Dad Through His Old Record Collection...

 Larry E. Johnson, Nov 16, 1937 - Dec 16, 2000

My dad loved music.

He grew up on bluegrass and western swing. His father played guitar, banjo, and other stringed instruments, and his mother played ukulele and mandolin. When my dad was very young he learned the accordion and harmonica. Later, in his early twenties, he learned the guitar, and he would often  play around the house. He also aspired to be a jazz drummer, and would tinker around on my drum kit.

 My grandparents, Ray Ezra Johnson and Marian (Hagerman) Anderson

When I was growing up, he had a Zenith record player/stereo on the "buffet table" in our dining room, with speakers on the floor underneath. He would spend hours sitting at the dinner table listening to records, drinking a beer, and sometimes reading with music playing in the background.

When I was little, my mom stayed at home with me during the day while my dad worked, and at night she worked a factory job. While she was at work, my dad would busy himself with folding laundry and cleaning the house for her. He would often sit me down on the floor in front of the speakers with my toys and my bottle, where i would spend hours mesmerized and memorizing Johnny Cash, Waylon Jennings, and Buddy Holly records. They were almost like my baby sitters. Their music became part of my DNA. I knew every word.

I had a pretty good musical education growing up. Bluegrass, rockabilly, country, old folk songs, and even some Motown.

I listen to these records now, and I can feel my dad all around me, smell him in the record sleeves. I can hear him in the songs. It might as well be him singing, particularly the Waylon Jennings records. Sometimes I can't listen at all. That's how powerful music can be.

I'll start off with a little Johnny Cash Live at Folsom Prison. This song scared me when i was very young. I remember asking my dad if the part about shooting the man just to watch him die was real.

The next song was one I knew by heart almost immediately. It's a classic. One of my favorite songs...

My dad loved bluegrass most of all. He probably had more bluegrass records than any other genre. "Blue Moon of Kentucky" was the song I remember hearing the most. I remember thinking that the sound of the mandolin must have been a sped up guitar...