Deep sigh…

In 1965, at the age of 23, my beloved father — who just passed away last month at 83 — came to this country from eastern Europe to start his new life in the ‘promised land’ of America where he ultimately became very successful after toiling in the city for 60 years to provide for me, my siblings and my beloved late mother.

The only problem was, he didn’t speak English that well and was obviously concerned that it would hold him back in his new country.

That same year, a brand new movie came out, called ‘The Sound of Music’ which he was very interested in as it reminded him of the “hills from the old country” that he wouldn’t see again until The Wall fell in 1989.

Determined to learn his newly adopted language, he walked into a seedy Times Square movie theater that year and watched that movie intently to learn the language — not once; but ten (10) times that year. It’s a memory he would never forget and occasionally bring up over the years

Flash forward 50 years and it’s 2015 and it’s the 50th anniversary of that movie’s release. To commemorate it, the Academy had invited a very well known Lady Gaga to come perform the famed title track during the Oscars - with beloved star of the film, Julie Andrews, there to witness it.

The performance was other-worldly and completely out of character of Lady Gaga’s nasally vocal range. It’s like an alien took over her vocal tract and it sounds nothing like her (Google it) — much like the way Bob Dylan threw his voice on ‘Nashville Skyline.’

My father, now in his 70’s, watched this famed performance in real time and was blown away… just completely brought back to his youth as a young man facing down this crazy city, and Stefanie Germanotta was the one blowing his mind.

He turned to me during the performance, nearly in tears, and asked me who she was. I let out a comic sigh and began to explain her history & cultural value. He then turned back to me and said,

“She’s so incredibly talented. If you ever meet her in the city, please let her know how proud I am of her, will you?”

I smirked to myself, laughed it off, and said, “Sure, Dad…” knowing darn well that would never happen.

FLASH FORWARD to a few months later… I am hanging out on the LES with my rocker friends in an underground bar downtown, all getting drunk and having a blast when all of a sudden I need to excuse myself to go hit the bathroom downstairs to take a leak.

As I make my way down the stairs, I look up and walking up the stairs is none other than Lady Gaga. Alone. Just me & her on a narrow stairwell in dirty bar in the city.

I take a deep breath, along with a big leap of faith, open my lips, and go…

“Ummmm… can I tell you something?”

She turns to me, fully expecting me to bust into some “OMG, I’m like your biggest fan, OMG!!” diatribe when I just turn and go,

“…sooooooo, my old man asked me to tell you something…”

…as I explained the entire story above, fully expecting her to be completely apathetic to the admission, etc.

I look up after the words leave my lips only to find her eyes the size of the moon — completely swelled up with humility and compassion nearly bursting into tears as she told me how much that story meant to her.

“Can I tell YOU something now?” she said, as I braced for impact.

“I rehearsed that song for 8 straight weeks for 8 hours a day leading up to that performance knowing how important it was to an entire generation of people like your father. So please, tell him *I* said thank you, ok?!”

I was completely blown away, thanked her for her hard work on my father’s behalf, hugged her and sent her off as I drove home out to Long Island that night.

The next morning, my dad walked into the kitchen and asked how my night went. I smirked, turned to him, and said…

“Have a seat, pops… do I have a story for you, old man.”

Rest in Peace, Dad. I love you.