We listened to vinyls tonight.

Today, I found a great deal on a stereo system that plays, among other media, vinyl records. I love the sound they make as the needle scratches across the surface. Mom found some old records from their college days and from the group they toured with after college. Mom didn't have any solos, but Dad did. Fans of Bill Risinger's voice now should hear Bill Risinger's voice in his early 20s. Wow...boy, could he sing. I'm so glad we have these albums with recordings of Dad singing because these are the only recordings he has ever made. He was hilarious as we were listening to these records - he knew all the words, the inflections he used, stylistic choices he made in each song. We listened. We laughed. We sat in awe of this voice that soared with each note and told a story with each word.

There are times I have wondered about how different our lives would have been if Dad had taken a different path...if he had pursued a career in music that involved performing on stages in front of packed houses and recording albums that sold millions of copies. I think it says a lot about who Dad is that he chose a different path...one that led to pastoring at churches and leading people in musical worship. He touched people's lives individually rather than impersonally in multitudes. I have no doubt he could have been famous, a star even. Instead, though he is well-known in certain circles and areas, he chose to serve God in His church as a music minister, to remain humble and not strive for that elusive goal of stardom. He still refers to himself as just Bill from Buckeye. All the glory and praise and attention and accolades he receives because of his many talents and abilities is always reflected back to the One who is worthy of all glory, honor and praise. That attitude, that focus, that lifestyle Dad lives out everyday tells me more than any words can what kind of man my father is.

Like I said before, I have often wondered about that divergence in Dad's life. It brings to my literary mind the Robert Frost poem The Road Not Taken. I would have loved my Dad if he had taken the other road and become successful in the world's eyes, but I think I love him more knowing that he took the 'road less traveled' because that has made all the difference.

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveller, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I--
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference

...Robert Frost