Martin Thomas

I never knew my paternal grandfather ... he died several years before I was born. If generational history and patterns are to be believed, though, I imagine he must have been a lot like my dad. It's my opinion that my brother and I both inherited at least half of our personalities from our father. I received his near-irrational love of work, his love of achievement, his preference to often let his performance speak for him. My brother, to my mind, seems to have received his stubbornness, his appreciation for letting things go unsaid, and his ability to often hide emotion. These are, of course, not negative traits and I don't mean to convey any of us in an unfavorable light- I'm just pointing out how wildly similar the three of us can be.

So it must be that my grandfather was similar to my dad and, therefore, similar to us. I don't know very much about him, to be honest. I know he was a career military man, a non-com, who fought in Korea and raised his family on or near Fort Dix for most of his life. He had four children, one of whom who died in childhood, my father in the middle with a sister on each side. As any proud Irishman he could drink well; he also smoked himself to death, succumbing to cancer at a comparably young age (mid-fifties). In those pictures which survived from his youth, he bears a striking resemblance to my father (although not to my brother and I- we both have a lot of our mom's side in our appearance, as well).

My dad usually gives mostly facts like that about his father, without a lot of explanation of really who he was, how he acted, or what he believed. He will often say that he would have loved my brother and I, and been proud of what we've already accomplished in our lives. I suppose most of the image I have of him as a person comes from what I know of my dad's life ... my dad, who worked two jobs to put himself through college and made himself into a very successful business manager for almost 30 years before his injury. The relationship my dad held with his family then (and holds now) also speaks to my grandfather, but I know only cursory details from that time period at best.

So the picture of my grandfather as I know him- hard working, probably not openly loving, driven, highly expectant of work in others, with a hesitance to convey emotion beyond anger or laughter, and a love of discipline.

Sounds familiar.

I bring this up because in a concert next week I ended up with the solo for "O Danny Boy," a wildly famous Irish tune that you'd know if you heard. It's been one of my favorite songs for years, and I'm very happy I get to finally perform it (on euphonium, no less). To prepare, I was practicing the solo over Spring Break when my mom knocked on the door. When I opened it, all she said was, "I just wanted to let you know- you sound good. Your dad especially likes it- he even made a comment about how this is one of his favorite songs. I think this was one of his dad's favorite songs, too ... you must be reminding him of your grandfather."

The rarity of this comment from my dad said a lot to me. He never comments of my playing unless it's a performance, after which he says, "Good job" or "Next time leave the trumpets at home." It gave me a good feeling to know that I was able to remind him of someone that obviously had such an effect on him ... much the same effect, I would believe, he's having on me and my brother now.

It's the little things in life that are important. Not big events or situations, but just bits of knowledge that leave a lasting impact and make you think. This Thursday I'll have that bit of extra knowledge when I stand up to play Danny Boy ... the knowledge that I'm not just playing one of my favorite songs. I'll be performing the favorite song of my dad, the man who has influenced me so much, and the favorite song of his dad, a man who inevitably and indirectly has done the same thing.

Here's to Martin Thomas Walsh ... I wish I could have met you.