I grew up listening to music. It wasn’t really a choice.
   My mother always had the radio turned on, or a record on the turntable. In our home it was her soundtrack that would set the mood of the day. Often I would hear her wonderful voice singing along; she could really belt it out. She was a mother who knew that music was best played at a decent volume.
   Most of the time it was the big band music of her youth, and she was especially fond of Sinatra, but Mom would continually pick up popular records of the day and keep up with the times. The copies of The Beatles Blue and Red albums, that I now own, both have her signature boldly written on the front cover as if she was staking claim to the music.
   Her tastes were wide and wonderful. I enjoyed some of the sounds, others took me years (or decades) to fully appreciate.
   The point is, my mother exposed me to music, encouraged me to listen, to learn, and even to perform (she actually allowed a set of drums into the house). Heck, she even bought me a few albums (of my choice) before I had a job to support my habit.
   A love of music was something we shared. It is a hobby/passion/obsession that continues today, long after my mother has passed on.
   Mothers do this, and not just with music. It’s your mother who will probably notice your interest in something when you were a kid. It is a mother who will encourage you to take it further. It could be dance, or drama, reading, or hockey, but chances are the hobbies you enjoyed when you were young were supported by your mother.
   It really doesn’t matter what that hobby was, what mattered was that your mother gave you a chance to discover, and to explore, an interest. In that way, it did matter.
   Thanks Mom, I’ve still got the music in me.

© 2018 j.g. lewis