Through My Daddy's Eyes

A year or so ago, my father sent me some photos; I could tell they were special to him. They were of my brother and I as youngsters. The iconic picture of his was a shot of my brother and me on a sand dune in Truro.
I am bare chested and smiling...Danny is giggling with glee, his hands behind his head...he didn't know where to put them.
We were looking at a precipitous drop behind dad...we were preparing to leap the twenty feet of freefall and then tumble down the side of the dune.
This was years before the state began to enforce Kennedy's naming half the town a Cape Cod National Seashore. At this time you could still drive dune buggies all over the face of the dunes.

I am looking at the photo and I realized that my perspective is through Dad's eyes.

What wonderful things photographs are...can be.

Perspective is what makes new music fresh, what keeps it exciting.

And what really makes it new is that we each have a unique way of seeing the world around us. The same scene, but you see it one way and I, another. Maybe this is why I enjoy surrealism? Do my musical proclivities walk in step with my perspective? Can I play outside my existence?
I can understand a woman's argument without being one.I understand racial perspectives, although I am (mostly) one race?
Music is a language in which I can wander without having perspective. In fact, I can gain perspective by that wandering. I can explore the nooks and crannies - why you saw it one way, and I - another.

When we listen to new music we measure it in the broth we ourselves have been marinating in.
Evil people assume all motives are evil.
When I hear a new piece I color it with my glasses.
Now, to try and see it through Daddy's eyes.

Neo?