I hear music everywhere, especially in the quietest places.
In the then-present of this photo from Ireland, three of my children and I looked out from darkness to the vivid light of day beyond the window. I didn’t consciously hear music at the time, but I hear the soundtrack when I look at the picture.
The trip was in honor of their father, on the second Father’s Day without him here with us in the traditional way. In the picture, I hear music. I travel back in time to Phillips Church and hear the Rev singing the words to Thaxted, from Jupiter in Gustav Holst’s The Planets Suite.
All of that afternoon’s music floods back. It comforts me. The sibilance of Sweet Baby James sung by hundreds. Becca’s For Good.
Lilting notes and words of light and love and fellowship floating above an empty black plane nothing escapes.
I wish everyone could hear it.
Photos somehow press “play” and I hear songs my daughter sang and music she and her siblings played. Papa Dick singing a customized song for each of fifteen grandchildren he bounced on his knee on countless Sundays. I listen to tuneful and argumentative birds I watched years ago. Satiated crowds chattering around a mirrored sculpture in Salem just after Thanksgiving. Blue Angels roaring overhead. A John Philip Sousa sound track to July fireworks, and I cycle back to countless marching band and Percussion Ensemble performances and practices. Beloved beagles synchronously snoring and baying. The sounds of silence at sunrise.
And this one? I hear Fenway Park. Birds singing to each other along the Emerald Necklace. “Put me in, coach.” The Standells’ Love that Dirty Water. Dropkick Murphys shipping up to Boston.
Please, Come to Boston. If only for the springtime.
Ears to the heavens, let me hear you again.
Love in the Spaces 
As one of the hundreds who sang Sweet Baby James that day, it holds a special place ,,,,always turn it up when it comes on and sing to his memory.
I just love that you do that. It’s a comfort to hear all of you in my head. It was sublime to have everyone join in.
And, by the way, a little bird told me I may have more sewing to do….I need an update.
Yes Stephanie…Logan and Juliet arrived April 11! I brought my parents up to see their 7th and 8th great grandchildren!!!!
Get Outlook for Androidhttps://aka.ms/AAb9ysg ________________________________
I love this thought. In my head I still replay it just the way we all sang it that day. It still gives me chills.
Heartfelt and moving. In some ways, music can evoke longing and comfort at the same time.
Thank you. It truly is comforting. I love the idea of singing photographs, and you’ve put it just right. Longing and comfort intertwined, inseparable in a way.
You’re so right–and the same music can switch up what it wants us to feel. I’m learning to trust the music to lead the way.
Lovely post and pictures Stephanie. I’ve found a lot of comfort in music over the years and many bring back memories of loved ones and happier times.
I couldn’t get by without the music. I’m glad you have it, too.
It’s seen me through a lot over the years.
Melodies, beats, soaring crescendos, impossibly exquisite pianissimos, cavernous 16th note rests, epic symphonic swells that would silence Zarathustra…yup… you can hear them all in photographs. Especially yours. Thanks for sharing.
I sense you’ve always had a Jim-like breadth of musical knowledge!