Music has been a constant thread woven through the fabric of my life. From my earliest memories, it has always been there. Sometimes in the background, sometimes taking center stage, but always present.
On Sundays after Mass, while the Sunday Gravy was simmering on the stove (if you’re Italian, you know exactly what I mean), my dad would play recordings of the great operas—Tosca, Madame Butterfly, La Traviata. At the time, I didn’t appreciate it. In fact, as a kid, I remember rolling my eyes and wishing for silence or something I thought was “cooler.” But those soaring voices seeped into me anyway, forming a quiet foundation for my love of music.
Then came Broadway. Our home was filled with the sounds of Pippin, Phantom of the Opera, Fiddler on the Roof, and Jesus Christ Superstar—just to name a few. Those shows taught me that music could tell stories—grand, tragic, joyful, and everything in between.
And then there was rock. Pink Floyd, Chicago, Kansas—my dad’s musical taste was vast and generous. He never limited himself to one genre. He listened with reverence, appreciating every style for its artistry and soul. Through him, I learned to do the same. That openness shaped me—not just as a listener, but as a person.
Recently, as I was writing this article, a colleague posted something that stopped me in my tracks. He wrote: “Feeling the music isn’t just about rhythm or movement. It’s about finding joy in the process, staying present in the moment, and leading with heart rather than just mechanics.” That resonated deeply. It made me think about the legacy I’m leaving—not just through my work, but through music.—with my family, my friends, and those I lead.
It’s no secret to those closest to me that I have a theme song: “Dancing Queen” by ABBA. People will message me out of the blue when they hear it. My kids know the minute it comes on, we erupt in dance and song. It’s pure joy — unfiltered, unapologetic. And I’m proud of that. Proud to leave them with a legacy of joy, of presence, of celebrating life in the moment. It’s the same legacy my father left me: an appreciation for music in all its forms and the way it connects us to something bigger than ourselves.
That truth came alive for me recently during a weekend of concerts. It started with Lainey Wilson—a rising star in country music whose songs are rooted in storytelling and authenticity. My dad never really listened to country, but his love of different genres is in my DNA. Sitting in that crowd, hearing Lainey’s soulful voice, I realized how much I’ve inherited my Dad’s curiosity and appreciation for music in all its forms.
The next night, I went with my husband, brother, and sister-in-law to see Pat Benatar and Bryan Adams. As the music filled the arena, my brother and I had the same thought: Dad would have loved this. Pat Benatar’s voice was fierce and commanding—anthems of strength and independence. I remember feeling empowered and strong listening to her songs. Bryan Adams brought pure nostalgia—those gravelly vocals and heartfelt lyrics that speak of love, longing, and the passage of time. When he sang Summer of ’69, the entire crowd was transported back to their own summers, their own stories.
For me, that song unlocked a vivid memory of a high school graduation event at Adventure Island, where Bryan Adams performed. My brother remembered it too—but through a different lens. Same event, different experiences, yet both of us traveled back in time to the exact place. That’s the power of music.
The four of us shared memories of when we first heard these artists. Music connected us not only to our past but to each other in that moment.
It’s funny how music works on the mind. I can hear a song from fifty years ago and remember every word, every note, every feeling it once evoked. Yet I sometimes can’t remember what I had for breakfast yesterday. That’s the mysterious power of music—it imprints on our souls in ways nothing else can.
So as the year winds down and holiday music fills our office at ReEmployAbility, I’m reminded of what matters most: connection, joy, and the stories we carry in song. May this season bring you the same harmony and heart that music has always brought to me.
