Sometimes A Song Changes Your Life

My parents gave me my first turntable when I was four years old, so it is safe to say that music has always played a big role in my life. It was a real turntable, too! Not some toy. I cannot tell you how much vinyl I ran the needle through over the years! I got my first ever record in 1964 (I was four years old) as a party favor. It was “Love Me Do” by The Beatles, and those four-year-old little girl ears were never ever the same. Never ever the same. I fell in love.

By the time, the 70’s came around, I was so hooked. Carole King, Carly Simon, Laura Nyro, James Taylor, Dan Fogelberg, Todd Rundgren, The Band … all those wonderful writers. It was my primary passion.

I can remember spending entire teenage paychecks earned at Dairy Queen and Sonic at the local record store. (Yes, there were Sonics in the 70’s). I can still remember the smell of patchouli and sawdust at the Alamo Music Center. To this day, I have no idea why they had sawdust on the floor, but they did. Then Hastings came to town, and I could pretty much kiss all my money good-bye. I spent everything I earned on vinyl and notebooks to record every bit of teenage angst I could muster. And I could muster a lot of teenage angst, trust me.

As I got older, I discovered live music and a whole new amazing world opened to me. There is nothing in the world to compare to sitting in a dark, smoky room listening to musicians playing their music live. There is something so magical listening to live music. Something so real and from the heart and soul. So amazing.

I was at a concert in either Boston in the late 1980’s – probably late 1987 or early 1988, because my youngest had just been born (March 1987). This was a time when alt traditional country music was just starting to explode, and I was completely wowed by the stuff that was coming out of Nashville at the time. Dwight Yoakum, Randy Travis, George Strait (the old stuff), the O’Kanes, Sweethearts of the Rodeo. It was an amazing time.

The O’Kanes were doing a show either in Boston or Cambridge. I cannot remember which one. But I wanted to go. I REALLY wanted to go. I had their first cassette and was just blown away by it. So, when I saw they were going to be playing, I HAD to go. This must have been in late 1987 or 1988.

I told my husband at the time that I wanted to go. He, as to be expected, begrudgingly agreed. I had a bad marriage. From the start. And it never really got any better.

Pretty much any time I wanted something; he did all he could to ruin it. He was a pro at being passive aggressive (Libra). And this night was no exception. I had just had a baby, and I was so hormonal and unhappy by the time we got there. Looking back, I should have just gone by myself or found a friend to go. But I was trying to be a “good wife.”

Surprisingly, considering the popularity of the O’Kanes, it was an exceedingly small venue. We ended up at a table about 15 feet from the stage. For me, this was not a good thing, because the husband immediately started drinking, and considering his behavior in the car, I was terrified he was going to make an ass of himself and me. And do not think for a minute he would not - he had done it so many times before. I knew him well enough to know he was determined that I was not going to have a good time. Because, well, just because he could.

So, I am stressed out, feeling hormonal and about to cry, and just so damn angry at him that I really could not enjoy myself and the music. I tried to focus, but it was difficult. And the music was just so damn freaking good. So damn good. It sickens me to this day that I was not able to enjoy the show like I should have.

And then, it happened, they played “Daddie’s Need to Grow Up Too (written by Jamie O’Hara and Kieran Kane*)” and I felt like I had been punched in the stomach, and it was all I could not do to not start immediately ugly crying. Because like I said, I was post-partum and very hormonal. I really had trouble holding it together, but I did.

I then looked over at my husband, and it completely hit me like a tsunami of truth, … this fool is never going to grow up. Never. Never. Never. He could listen to this song a million times, and it would never sink into his brain and heart, the damage he had done to his children, to me, and to himself. It takes a real grown man to understand the meaning of this song, and my husband at the time never would. I was crushed. It was a reality I needed to face, but I did not want to.

And I immediately and instinctively knew deep down inside that I had to start preparing to be a single parent because there was just no way that my kids deserved this – there was no way I deserved this. This was the man who several months earlier could not even drive me and his second born child home from the hospital after birth. But when the truth hits you, it will hit you in unplanned and unexpected ways.

Music will do that to you. It will force you to see and accept things you may try to bury and deny.

At that moment, I left my marriage, even though it limped along for a few more miserable years. But I was gone and completely disengaged at that moment. I know it could not go on any longer. I had to make plans. Any love that was there was gone.

Unfortunately, instead of sliding over into the right lane and letting my husband go past me and let him get on with living his life the way he wanted to, I popped over into the left lane, and like a maniac I sped off in the fast lane which over time took me down some extremely dark roads where I drove recklessly and did such very foolish things.

But I survived. I survived. And my daughters grew into beautiful, talented, and smart women. And we all survived. I did it. On my own. As a single mom.

It was such a powerful moment because I had heard the song numerous times off the cassette (yes, I said cassette), but somehow hearing it coming out of human bodies made all the difference in the world for me. Music can be so damn powerful. I needed to hear that song and those words at that moment. Hearing that song at that moment forced me grow up and saved my kids, and me.

My kid's daddy never grew up – I don’t think it even occurred to him what he needed to do, but their mama did. It was not easy, but we got through it all.

*Daddie’s Need to Grow Up Too (Jamie O’Hara and Kieran Kane)

Son, let me tell you how much I love you

And I hope you and your mama understand

How sorry I am for not being here

When you needed my heart and my hands

But believe me when I say it’s gonna be different now

No more nights wondering where daddy is

From now on I’m gonna be right here for you

Can you find it in your heart to forgive

You see

Daddie’s need to grow up too

Learn what they should and they shouldn’t do

In a way we’re a lot like you

We need some understanding

Daddies stumble, daddies fall

We don’t really know it all

I’m gonna try and make it up to you

Daddies need to grow up too

Son, I know that you’ve looked up to me

Even when I let you down and made you cry

But tonight it’s me who feels like crying

And you’re the hero in my eyes

You see

Daddies need to grow up too

Learn what they should and they shouldn’t do

In a way we’re a lot like you

We need some understanding

Daddies stumble, daddies fall

We don’t really know it all

I’m gonna try and make it up to you

Daddies need to grow up too

- Julie O'Hara 2023

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