Welcome to Morobinbarrystories.com! Please join me on twitter @morobinbarry. This site is for Bee Gee fans everywhere who would like to share and read stories of fun, joy, love and inspiration for Barry, Robin and Maurice Gibb. (Andy is certainly not forgotten and is included at times). If you’d like to share a story, please email it to me at morobinbarrystories@gmail.com. Stories will be posted often, and many will appear in my book, which is in editing at the moment.

March 27, 2017

No one ever said being a professor was easy, and I’ve been buried in work this past several weeks. In addition, I’m trying to work on book edits; and compared to watching molasses flow out of a jar, I’ll take the molasses viewing. I keep telling myself it will all work out in the end! So here’s a story I’ve pulled for this week, and it fits the season. Many of us can relate, so thanks to the Dads out there. Every day is Father’s Day.

Terry-New York

I’m writing because today is the anniversary of my Dad’s death, and I loved him as much as I love the Bee Gees. He used to sit with me and listen to the music when I was an obsessed teen, madly in love with Barry Gibb. I am taking a deep breath, and keeping emotions on the positive side, even though it is hard to do. I have many memories that make me smile, so I try to focus on those.

When we drove in the car, he would patiently let me play my CD’s, and eventually the Bee Gee sound grew on him. He even told me he loved the “Still Waters” album and that it “grew on him”. My Dad was a musician himself, and he appreciated the complicated songwriting and the wonderful harmonies, that special sound only Barry, Robin and Maurice could make. At times, we would discuss some of the songs, and I’d pull out the old ones I loved the best, like “Morning of My Life” and “First of May”. He loved them both.

When he became ill, I would listen to his music with hm, mostly classical and some old country like Conway Twitty and Vern Gosden and Keith Whitley. My Dad taught me to appreciate all types of music and to respect the process of what these artists created. He was a laid back, gentle man, and I miss him every day, but I know he is with me; and when I play the old albums on my ancient record player that still works, I’m sure he is listening. I can see him smiling, and I can hear his voice, and I know how lucky I was to have a father who loved music so much.

The Bee Gee music keeps me grounded and sane, and I have a big box in my car of all the CD’s, rotating them according to my mood of the day. Thanks to the brothers and to my Dad. Long live the Bee Gee sound, which is so unique and wonderful.  I’m sure it will be played for centuries to come.