Dedication: To My Dad (and all other dads who love Led Zeppelin)

My dad, very famously, hung onto his bell-bottom pants well into the Eighties. He once explained to me that he realized the whole bell-bottoms movement illustrated to him that Fashion was fickle, and the rules change on an unfair dime, so wear what you want whether it's trendy or not ("There was an Alice Cooper album that came out around that time called 'Flush the Fashion'... I took it to heart." -Dad). When bell-bottoms returned to the mode, he triumphantly held it over my mom ("See? Everything cycles back." -Dad) who had made him get rid of them, at some point ("Yeah, but never exactly the same way." -Mom).

Well, like father like daughter. I still internally mourn the return of skinny jeans because I love living in "flares". I got my first pair when I was twelve, I think, and fact: I still own a pair, purchased new in the last 9 months. I was a little more sensitive about my clothes when I was a middle-schooler, before I realized I could always just Flush the Fashion. A boy in my seventh grade once said to me, "Hey, Brooke! The Seventies called. They want their clothes back."

I took this arrow to the heart and laid bare my hurt (and confusion) to my father that night, who said "Well, you just tell him, 'Hey Trey, Led Zeppelin called. They said they like my clothes.'" 

Since we all know comebacks are a dish best served cold (right? oh, wait), I did tell that to Trey, the next day. He made a surprised face and said, "Your dad likes Led Zeppelin?" (In retrospect, since I was a bespectacled twelve-year-old grammar nazi with tucked-in t-shirts, he probably figured my dad was essentially pre-time-travel-encounter George McFly .)

I know it might seem that way, but I've inherited a lot more from my father than my passion for music. I look just like him, for starters. I have my dad's face, transposed onto a girl's body, with a reasonable filter of Mom. We've got the same green eyes and skinny, tan-resistant legs (by the way, thanks again to Trey for the comment "Day-um, girl, you got some white legs," which signified the end of my wearing shorts for the next seven years). We both are good listeners. We both have weird senses of humor. Neither of us have much use for the insincere. We both have warm hearts and we both love the Gospel. We both have testimonies of the good that comes from sharing it, he from his mission, me from my missionary experiences. I hope when I grow up I also develop his patience, his determination, his aptitude toward forgiveness, and his love for his children.

He doesn't always say the right thing, but when it matters most, I can always count on him for sage advice. He's a wise man, longstanding affection for bell bottoms notwithstanding. I thank my mom for taking a chance on the bachelor whose silverware was rusted together from disuse, who bought dog food weekly from a convenience store, and who unceremoniously dumped crumbled Doritos on top of the first meal she ever cooked for him. And I thank my dad for being the guy he is, because it definitely helped to make me the girl I am.

Yes, my dad likes Led Zeppelin. In fact, I think all dads like Led Zeppelin, and definitely, all dads who like Led Zeppelin should make it part of their child's education and upbringing. The future will probably be a little more secure if the upcoming generations know the virtues of Led Zeppelin. And friends, I am here to report it is capable hands.

As evidence, I submit Rigby, heretofore known as "The Boy" on the Internet. Named by his bodaciously cool parents, Adam and Lydia, after a Beatles song, Rigby charmed me into oblivion one of the first times I met him. We had a conversation a few months later that went something like this:

Me: (fiddling with the music) How about this band?
Rigby: (listens for a moment; lights up) Yeah! Led Zeppelin!
Me: Led Zeppelin? Why are they your favorite?
Rigby: (grinning) Because of "Black Dog".
Me: "Black Dog"? Is that your favorite Led Zeppelin song? Will ya sing it with me later?
Rigby: (nods, plays with Gameboy Color)
Me: When do you like to listen to Led Zeppelin?
Rigby: When I'm with my dad in the car.
Me: Do you sing real loud with it in the car?
Rigby: (flops his head in an emphatic nod, smiling) Yeeeeaaah.
Me: Any other songs you like?
Rigby: "Rock 'n Roll". (EDIT: He is also known to cite, among others, "The Rain Song" and... "Going to California" if I'm not mistaken?)
Me: What would you say to a friend who said he didn't like Led Zeppelin?
Rigby: (stumped, avoids the question by further playing with Gameboy Color)
Me: You probably wouldn't have a friend like that, huh. We don't associate with those kinds of people.

Then we put on "Black Dog" and had ourselves a good old time. Watch an earlier "Black Dog" jam sesh here.

Yes, thank heaven, stairway included, for Led Zeppelin. And bell bottoms. And especially, for good dads.

Since Spotify does not have Led Zeppelin (boo!), I have put together a makeshift (very makeshift) list, similar to the one for Mother's Day, that further represents me and my papa bear. You will find it here: Dad

For Your Playlist: Side A
1. "Be Free" by Loggins & Messina
2. "Far Cry" by Rush (live 2008 version)
3. "The Pretender" by Jackson Browne
4. "John, I'm Only Dancing" by David Bowie
5. "Rich Girl" by Hall & Oates
6. "Cosmik Debris" by Frank Zappa
7. "Mistral Wind" by Heart

For Your Playlist: Side B
1. "Harvest Moon" by Neil Young
2. "Pancho and Lefty" by Merle Haggard
3. "Victim of Changes" by Judas Priest
4. "Enter Sandman" by Metallica
5. "Shape of My Heart" by Sting
6. "Dogs" (live version) by Roger Waters


  1. I love this. I love Rigby, I love Zeppelin, and I love the thought that it is TOTALLY dad music. Well played.

    Side note: one of these days you and Mila should have a chat about the Stones. Or better yet, we should have Mila and Rigby debate which band is better. Because a classic rock discussion between toddlers has the potential to be hilarious and awesome.

    1. Mercy me. That would be something. I'll take you up on that in a heartbeat, if Mila can wax poetic on the subject of the Rolling Stones, or even just be her cute white-blonde self & sing or dance to some of that. Babies with good taste in music are genetically superior to all other babies. Pretty sure that's science.