A couple-few years after seeing the Beatles on Ed Sullivan, with my father's commentary ("Bunch of damned foolishness!"), he and I were riding in the car when a rendition of Yesterday, played by Mantovani or some orchestra like that, came on the radio. The song ended as Dad pulled the car into the driveway at home and he said something to the effect of, "Now, you see? Played like that, that's good music. Why do they have to use electric guitars and have all that hair?" I didn't say anything, just chuckled and got out, because there was no point in saying anything. Fergawd'ssake, he couldn't remember that Yesterday was originally played with an orchestra, because it was sung by a guy who he knew had long hair! I grew up traditionally trained as a musician, but my parents played a wide variety of music at home. To this day, give me Sinatra singing any Nelson Riddle arrangement, Glen Miller's catalog, the Dorsey Brothers, Woody Herman, or most old standards and I'm happy as a clam. I've got my parents to thank for that. I picked up my love of Bach's music, especially organ pieces, on my own. The rest of the classical world followed in quick order. None of that was "damned foolishness." But by the time I was in high school and playing organ in a rock band, the Old Man was suddenly proud of me, and suggesting gigs the band should try to get. I still can't figure it.