Boxing Day has, for me, always been special because it was my father's birthday. As a family, we liked the idea of special dates, and we also liked the way my mother's and father's birthdays, in August and December, flanked those of us three children.
Among Daddy's many legacies to us, besides K.L. Saigal, whose songs insidiously entered into my soul, and PG Wodehouse, and books and music in general, was the gift of age appropriate entertainment as well. Scratch me and I can remember all of The Little White Bull and The Ugly Duckling and Waltzing Matilda and so many others, which I have subjected my children to, and have inflicted upon my granddaughter when she was around. (The little one is safe, so far). Between him and my brother, we had a veritable treasure of all kinds of music, which are there, deep inside, an integral part of me, so many decades later.
While making tea the other morning, with the rising sun peeping out from behind the water tank on the roof opposite our kitchen, I remembered an old Rolf Harris song from the early sixties, Sun Arise. I am so blessing the Internet for making so much so easily possible. (In his final years, Daddy was most impressed with Google, and trusted its information, especially when we were arguing about some fact or other, and he would ask me to go check with Google Ji).
I don't know if you even particularly liked this song, Daddy, but I'm playing this here because it made me think of you, yet again, with joy and gratitude. Happy Birthday, Daddy, with all my love.
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