Kristina Furey

"And I will try to fix you" Coldplay

Music is the needle, that with precision, can pierce through “the wrinkle in time”.   With the right tune and words, one can pinch the fabric of time while sliding the listener, like a needle through the fabric to the past or the future, allowing the listener to experience once again, moments past or even emotions of a future self, the present self has not ever even experienced…

Wednesdays.  I would come home from school and my father had the stereo hooked up to play upstairs, downstairs and outside on the deck.  He would be working on that house that we lived in and that music was as wonderful a greeting as our dog, running to the door shaking her tail, doing her happy dance that I was home.  I loved it all!!!  One day, on comes this song by Mary Hopkins, "Those Were The Days".  Here is a link to the song on YouTube:     I felt nostalgia.  I didn't even know what it was except that there was a strange pang in my heart and my stomach and I just wanted to hug my Dad!  Over and over again as a child and young person, I have felt things that I had never experienced, through music.  I once heard someone say it's the language of the Soul.  The soul knows and recognizes it even when the mind doesn't or we can't find words for it.

My father loved music.  I loved my father.  I was the youngest born in my family.  I was at the bottom of the pecking order.  When the dominoes fell, I saw it in slow motion, eventually they would all fall on me.  When you’re the youngest, it serves you well to be observant.  This is even more true when the dominoes fall.  Throw in a pre-diabetic at the top of that pecking order and now those dominoes will fall very haphazardly, if you don’t know to look for a low blood sugar correlation. To a sensitive child like I was, survival seemed reliant on knowing just when that first domino would fall.  To a co-dependent child the survival of the family seemed reliant upon stoping the dominoes from falling altogether.  The mystery was not solved in time but I did think outside of the box.  What did my father love and how could I discover the stitch in time, in the form of a gentle persuasion?  What defied limitations in a society or a household where one could not speak truth or convince someone through logic?  Where there is dysfunction or confusion in the thought process the best tool I have ever found for communication is the language of the soul.  

When I was a child, my father nicknamed me Florence, short for Florence Nightingale.  I always wanted to fix what was broken.  Broken things make me sad.  My father wanted me to be a nurse.  He wanted me to marry a doctor.  He told me this many times.  I wanted to be a veterinarian/farmer’s wife.  I did not write because I wanted to.  I wrote because I had to.  I had to communicate and I had to do it well enough to convince people to stop breaking things, animals and people but as you may imagine, they did not listen.  THEY YELLED AT ME.  INTIMIDATED ME. They spoke over me.  They twisted my words and my actions.  So I wrote it and I left it for them to read or I sang it or I just wrote it for myself.  I shared it with others who had the same difficulty.  They shared with me their personal struggles and I wrote for them.   I loved to sing.  My father loved music.  It just seemed natural to try to communicate to him this way and yet he was never supportive of me pursuing music.  Being a singer or musician was not a job to him.  It was a way of life that broke people.  



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