My Dad - Musings from Years Ago

My Dad
by K. LaVera Hill

When I was a little girl, my Dad started calling me "Berabell."
It stuck quite well.
From as far back as I can remember, my Dad surrounded me with music.
He played piano, he played accordion. He listened to records and 8-tracks. (Yes, I remember an 8-track.)
He even sang funny songs and made up the words as he went.
I still do that now.
It seems to me that I learned to read music before I learned to read words, but I know that's probably not true.
It just seems that way.
My Dad has always been very special to me.
We share a neat bond - music.
We share a sense of humor, and we share the joy of giving life to inanimate objects.
Cute personalities just seem to fit rocks and pillows.