I don't want to sound like an old curmudgeon with the old clichéd saying, "Why back in my day..."
Actually, 1967 was before my appreciation and or knowledge of some of the best. Janis Joplin and Otis Redding showed up. The Beatles and the Monkees, the biggest group in 1967, were no-shows.
So, if your Pops is still around, let him put on his type of music and just go with the flow.
Speaking of Pops and the oldies, I wrote this post about a man, who wasn't my Dad, but who, at the time, I wished had been my Dad. Our own father was around, yet, he wasn't. He went to work every day. We had food and clothes and shelter. For that I am grateful. In my dreams, now, Dad is always there for me. I wake up and think, "Okay, Dad, I hear you, now. I know you loved us."
Anyway, this is for all the Dads out there. Hug your children. That is a gift neither of you will forget.
Read here, for my oldie post.
'I wish that he had been my father. I watched with envy and sadness as he kissed his children good-night. I longed to be with them as they scrambled into their car for a family vacation. I sat on my front stoop, fireflies dancing on a hot summer night and listened to the whispers and laughter as dad and son contemplated a chess move.
He always seemed older than the other fathers in the neighborhood, but he was always around for his children. He danced like a loon when his boys formed a garage band. He said nothing but kind words as his first daughter lurched around the block, learning how to drive.
He fed the neighborhood kids cookies and watched as they climbed like monkey's in his apple trees.
He was a good man, a good husband who smiled when he came home from work and his wife came out to greet him. It was because of them, I knew a man and a woman could love and respect each other.
And most of all, he was a good father.
I wish that he had been mine, but, because of him, I knew there were good guys and I kept that with me for a very long time.'
Happy Father's Day.