More Musings for Mother’s Day 2025: Of Mothers, Sons…and Music

Evening, Sunday, May 11, 2025 – Miami, Florida

Mother’s Day always brings a mix of emotions. The ache of missing my mother is ever-present, but today, I choose to celebrate the memories—the quiet, joyful moments that defined our bond.

Mom and I shared an unspoken connection through the things we loved: books, films, dogs, and music. Though we often enjoyed them separately, there was a comforting certainty that we were experiencing them together in spirit.

In the late ’70s and early ’80s, the soothing sounds of WLYF’s “beautiful music” filled our home—at least until my older half-sister took the Zenith stereo in 1979. Those mellow melodies suited Mom perfectly, and, despite my young age, I found myself drawn to them as well. While disco and hard rock never quite fit me, something was reassuring about the gentle orchestral arrangements and soft harmonies.

I experimented with WAXY now and then to keep up with friends, but my true musical passion lay elsewhere. It was film scores—John Williams, Jerry Goldsmith, James Horner—that transported me to worlds far beyond our living room. Star Wars, Star Trek, and the soaring symphonies of cinematic storytelling became my refuge, especially during the tumultuous years of adolescence.

High school chorus introduced me to new musical styles, but my heart remained with classical music and orchestral soundtracks. Mom’s taste, meanwhile, never wavered—until, somehow, our preferences began to converge.

One of those pivotal moments came in 1980, when I invited her to watch Evening at Pops—a program I had long cherished. John Williams had just taken over from Arthur Fiedler, and as his baton introduced the world to The Imperial March and Yoda’s Theme, something shifted. Suddenly, music wasn’t just mine or hers—it was ours.

That program marked the beginning of a new tradition. We bonded over the Boston Pops, traded musical discoveries, and bridged the gap between our respective tastes. She introduced me to Nat “King” Cole, Frank Sinatra, and Perry Como, while I expanded her horizon with Williams, Horner, and even my beloved Beatles and Billy Joel. Somewhere along the way, we both discovered a love for classical music and Broadway tunes.

Even as her health declined, music remained one of our deepest connections—a thread that tied us together, even as time pulled us apart.

I often reflect on that closeness, knowing how rare and special it was. Some relationships never find that harmony, that effortless sense of understanding. But for Mom and me, music was our language—the soundtrack of a bond that shaped who I am, and one that still plays on in my heart.