Suddenly Lynetta got up and dashed down the hall, but she was back in a flash with a CD in her hand.
And when she put it in the player, I recognized one of my brothers’ songs blaring through the speakers.
We’d heard this song, “Candle Ice,” pouring out of my brothers’ bedroom at least a million times, so we were used to it.
But I looked over at my mom, worried that she might be embarrassed by the distorting guitars and the gritty lyrics.
This was definitely not caviar music. She seemed a little uncertain, but in a happy way.
She was sharing secret smiles with my father, and honestly, I think she even giggled.
My dad was looking amused, although he was very reserved about it, and it took me until the end of the song to realize that he was proud.
Proud that this noise came from his boys. That surprised me.
Dad has never been real big on any rendition of my brothers’ band, although he’s never really criticized it either.
But then Mr. Loski started grilling Matt and Mike about how they’d afforded to record their own music,
and they explained about working and saving and shopping for good deals on equipment, and that’s when I realized why my father was proud.
My brothers were feeling pretty good, too, you could tell.
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