When it comes to music, it’s rare that parents and teenagers ever agree on what is good. Although I don’t “appreciate” some of the music my kids listen to, we have managed to find some common interests in artist such as The Beatles, Beach Boys, and Chicago. I suppose there’s just some music that is so undeniably good that it’s nearly impossible to dislike. While I did come to appreciate and enjoy Frank Sinatra, my parents, and more specifically my father, never did embrace the guitar-oriented rock music I grew up blaring in my bedroom. But we eventually did find a common interest: the Wabash College Glee Club. 

My father, Paul Hawksworth ’56, was not a particularly good singer, but enjoyed his time in the Glee Club tremendously. He was especially fond of Bob Mitchum H’59, a legendary figure at Wabash who served as Glee Club director as well as professor, golf coach, band director, and alumni director.  My dad spoke of Bob Mitchum with a reverence usually reserved for a family member or best friend.

In the early 1950s, “Mitch” wanted to raise the profile of the Glee Club on campus, so he went about recruiting athletes to join…regardless of ability.  My dad was one that signed on.  It was a decision that would impact his life and his three Wabash sons who followed in his footsteps at Wabash. 

There is something captivating about male voices singing in four-part harmony. I was lucky to have had the opportunity to sing several of the same songs in the club that my dad had sung in the 50s: “Ride the Chariot,” “Cantante Domino,” “Salvation Belongeth to Our God,” “Brothers Sing On,” and the raucous crowd pleaser “Old King Cole.” He and I would sing these songs together for many years after my graduation, often while enjoying a gin martini. 

On an otherwise non-descript day during summer break in college, I remember my dad dusting off an old Wabash Glee Club record to play me his favorite song, “The Creation,” by Willy Richter. As it played, I sat in awed silence and watched him sing along, eyes closed, and with purposeful intent; much in the same way someone would savor a fine wine or a well-aged scotch after the first wonderful sip.  Like many special moments in my life, I remember it vividly. I was moved by the undeniable beauty of the song and how it moved my father.

After taking the needle off the record, he looked at me and said, “I want that song played at my funeral.”

I laughed it off at the time, but never forgot his words.

The lyrics to the song are few and simple, taken from Genesis 1:1-4 in the Bible:

 In the beginning God created the heaven and the earth
And the earth was waste and void
And darkness upon the face of the deep
And the spirit of God moved upon the waters
And God said let there be light, and there was light

What makes the song particularly moving is the way the arrangement juxtaposes darkness and light. It bounces between soft, slow, and brooding when singing about darkness, then loud, powerful, and cheerful with the arrival of light.

The next time I heard it was July of 2017 at my father’s funeral.

There is a chord sung in the line “and there was light” that is stunning. When that line in the song played in the church, it was as if I could see the heavens open to welcome my father into his eternal place of rest, being called to the light. It brought me much-needed peace and comfort during those dark days surrounding his passing. 

The song was a fitting farewell to a great Wabash man after a life well-lived. I am grateful that my dad played me that song so many years ago. It is impossible for me to not think of him when I hear it, forever a wonderful and moving connection to a man I miss dearly.