Rockstar: Kellincatty's Daddy

The other night Dave and I were invited to play in my hometown. We got the gig because of another gig. We got THAT gig because of my father (who consistently touts my band to all of his friends, or whomever). I secretly call him my agent. For example, once, he was fishing in the Chesapeake Bay. A news crew came along and interviewed him for a feature segment. My father was so excited that he gave the cameraman my number. “My daughter’s in television too! You should call her.”

I simply cannot believe the guy didn’t immediately rush to his satellite phone, call me up, and say, “So, hey baby, I hear you’re in Tee veeeee…”

Another time, I walked into a restaurant for Thanksgiving Dinner. About halfway through my turkey, I heard my band play in the speakers. My father had arranged for this, of course.

I’ve learned to kind to accept this behavior from my dad because I know it’s his way of showing his pride and love…

But this weekend, he came through for me in a way I didn’t expect, and just HAVE to tell you about.

Dave and I were going to do a guitar and bass thing for this gig. My father mentioned that his friend would be really disappointed if we didn’t do any banjo music. Fine, I thought. Dave could play banjo on a few songs and that would be that. I explained the change in set list to Dave.

“Kelly. We can’t play banjo without a bass. We’d have no low end.”

“Work it out with my father…” I told him.

So he did. Dave actually sat down with my father (an accordion player, btw), and taught him enough bass to get us through the banjo portion of the evening… My father, who’d never even held a bass, took to it immediately. Then Dave dropped the bomb, “So, you ready to play? Tonight?”

My father looked very nervous all of the sudden, but for some reason agreed.

Now, you need to understand that my father is not only talented, but also fearless. He’s picked up hundreds of animals including poisonous snakes… I once discovered that a raccoon had trapped itself into one of those large industrial trashcans. Without a second thought about disease, teeth, or claw, Dad reached into the container and tried to grab it. (To make a long story short, the nervous raccoon circled the can a few times, avoiding my father’s hand, and made the most hideous screeching noise I’ve ever heard. He eventually tipped the can so the animal could escape on its own… But you’ve got to hand it to him.

Anyway, I kind of thought he’d opt out when he had a chance to think about what he agreed to (come on. If someone taught me three or four notes on a violin and then asked me to perform those three or four notes two hours later, I'd think they were crazynutsycuckoo)– but not my father... When I told the audience that Dave taught Ol' Bill how to play a little bass, and would you please welcome him to the stage for his very first performance on bass, he jumped to his feet and “suited up.”

I’m so proud of my dad… It was a cool thing for him to support us – and a great moment for me. How much credit can you give a 69-year old man to do this?

After the gig, Dad’s friend came up to say hello to us, but didn’t talk long, “I have to go see your DAD!” he gushed. He walked away – but had to wait. A crowd of people surrounded him…. And – Dave and I were left completely alone to put instruments away…

But I loved it. I didn’t even have to drop any business cards. That evening was all about my Dad.