I am writing a verse (I just whip it up, but it still needs work, so I haven’t posted it yet). It got me thinking about those days of yesteryear and my dad.
My father lived for the weekend. He hated work day mornings. I remember my sister warning me not to say anything to anyone the first time I had to get up to work with my father, my brother and my sister (As I was one of those cheery people in the morning and they were not). But come the weekend my father was up with the birds.
I don’t think he wanted to miss anything come the weekends. Often times, he would organize social gatherings with lots of homemade music. He would invite his brother and a few of his friends to play and sing a song or two (or more). Sometimes, these parties would start one day and continue well into the next.
What good times; what great memories.
—Robert Confiant 16 July 2018