Happy Father's Day to the Fathers whose children never knew them

And then there was a very special man who saw his children only from afar. One who never got to play the role of dad but never forgot the two sons he had fathered once he was made aware of them by their their mothers whom he had met along his travels.

Although the children were raised well by step-fathers, he knew they shared his blood. He saw his likeness in their faces and watched them grow when his path took him through their separate towns.

Amazingly the two boys ended up attending the same college and grew to be best friends. One day he sat on a bench outside a building at the university and saw them exiting together after class. "It was like looking into a mirror of me in my past," he said. "I couldn't believe that the two young men didn't know they were brothers." Then again, maybe something special drew them together and they shared common interests.

He never got to shoot hoops with them or teach them to play the saxophone like his dad had done with him. Unknowingly, they probably grew up listening to his music and admiring his talent, eventually seeing him on TV and even possibly in a movie.

In some cases, men like these were wonderful, unselfish fathers who missed out on the joys of participating in their children's lives. Instead this one followed in his father's shoes, playing music throughout his life. Eventually his talent and many moments of serendipity led to a life on the road, to special places representing his country in an Army band and on to a successful, professional career. The baritone saxophones he owned were his children; his bandmates his family.

Telling this story, staring off into the past, tears formed in his eyes. Living as a musician has its rewards. It also has its sacrifices.

Copyright © 2013 Susan Cross – All rights reserved

Is anybody interested?

I blog about my personal musings and flash fiction (sometimes it's hard to tell them apart).

Initially I started this blog to generate interest about a great musician named Leroy 'Hog' Cooper, a dear friend. We spent so many hours together and I listened to stories as if he were my grandfather telling of his experiences from childhood right until his death in January 2009.

These recordings are priceless to me. His personal accounts of life in America as a black man (he never referred to himself as African American or Negro) were as interesting to me as his stories about B.B. King, Count Basie, and of course Ray Charles, his close friend with whom he spent the largest chunck of his musical career.

The book that I am writing, as I promised him I would, recounts his experiences along with the interviews I did with his old friends and other musicians. Again, to me they are priceless recordings.

I know that people read my flash fiction which is broadcast through the #Fridayflash hashtag on Twitter. Is anybody interested in the excerpts from the book? Does anyone read the stories about Leroy Cooper and his life?

Perhaps I should be including those on a separate blog. Any comments?