Margie’s music is one of the things that originally attracted me to her.  On one occasion I found myself in a car with Margie and our friend, Jim Fuller, on our way home from a party at the cabin of Margie’s friend up at McEwen.  Margie had her ukulele.  All the way back to Baker she sang and played her ukulele.  It was the most beautiful thing I’d ever heard.  If it wasn’t then that I fell in love with her, that evening was certainly a contributing factor.

Five years later when we were married, that ukulele went along on our honeymoon.  As we drove along, Margie not only taught me how to play it, but taught me all the words to her dozens of songs.  She taught me to harmonize, and we’ve been harmonizing ever since, in more ways than one.

As the children started coming, we fell into certain patterns as we cared for them.  One of the things that evolved was a nightly medley of good-night songs.  We’d tuck the kids in bed, and then one or the other of us would stand there and sing songs to them.  When it was my turn, I’d take requests.  The kids would keep me there singing for as long as they could—either until they went to sleep, or until I ran out of songs.

It pleased me to no end when two weeks ago Aaron mentioned that he sings to their little boy when he puts him to bed.  Bedtime songs are turning into a multi-generational thing.  Others of my children have asked me for the words to some of my traditional bedtime songs.

By far and away, the best purchase I ever made was our piano.  One day we heard an ad on the radio about a repossessed piano.  The company didn’t want to take it back to where it had come from, and wanted to sell it here in the area.  So for $500 we bought a piano.

Margie was already an accomplished pianist, so a piano was, really, a necessity.  Thereafter I’d come home and find Margie sitting at the piano with a little boy or a little girl, (or several), sitting on the bench with her.  She’d be playing, singing, and teaching the little ones Primary songs.

As the family grew, whenever Margie sat down at the piano, the family seemed to spontaneously gather around.  With ten children in the family, we became a 4-part choir.  Now as our married children come home to visit—especially Matt—they insist that Margie sits down at the piano, and that everyone comes and sings.  Music is a wonderful, unifying thing.

Some years ago Nathan found a beat-up violin in a second-hand store.  It had no strings, no bridge, its sound post was down, and it was just a beat-up shell.  He resurrected it, and started taking lessons from Duane Boyer.  When he’d go to work during the day, Ivy would sneak into his room and practice on his violin.  Nathan got really good as a fiddler, but Ivy passed him up in no time.

Aaron picked up the guitar.  Adam’s interests went to the banjo.  He built one, and took lessons, too.  Danny went to the mandolin to complete what was developing into a bluegrass band.  Their music has been a wonderful, unifying thing for the family.  It’s made them all work together.

The only no-talent in the Kerns family is my kids’ father.—But I can whistle.  It raises my spirits.  You can tell what mood I’m in by whether or not I’m whistling.  My irrigation pump is beside the pond that is situated in the corner of our North 40 next to the neighbor’s house.  One summer day as I made my daily trek to the pump, I noticed the neighbors out in their yard.  I, therefore, made it a point to not be whistling as I approached.  Don looked over the fence, saw me coming, and yelled, “Is something the matter? —You’re not whistling today!”

My father was a monotone.  He once complained to one of my boys about a song on the radio:  “That’s the trouble with music—it’s just up and down, up and down.”

“You’d rather have it all on one note?” my son asked.

Rather than being monotonous, music relieves monotony.  When I’m going around and around a field on a tractor, I’ll often sing.  I’ll sing every song I know.  I think that pleases the Lord.  He’s the One who said, “For my soul delighteth in the song of the heart.”  (D&C 25:12.)

Boyd K. Packer once gave a talk wherein he suggested that a good way to rid our minds of bad thoughts is to have a favorite hymn ready at hand to be sung when we recognize that our thoughts are going bad.  Bad thoughts can’t co-exist with sacred music.

One day as I was raking the field of hay below our house, I was in a singing mood, and wanted to learn some hymns.  As I went past the house, I stopped the tractor, jumped off, and ran into the house to get a hymnbook to use while I raked.  I asked Margie where my little pocket hymnbook was.  She said, “Why?  Are you having bad thoughts?”

Margie loves Christmas caroling.  One way or another we do that ‘most every Christmas.  We did it from the back of the hay truck a year or two ago.  We first went to Ralph and Judy’s place, caroled them, and made them join us.  We all nearly froze to death, but it made for a great memory.

Each of my daughters and several of my sons can play piano, thanks to their piano-teacher mother.  Their singing voices can all carry a tune.  Is that ability genetic, or is it because they were all raised with music and were brought up to sing?  Music is definitely one of the key things that makes our family what it is.  Again, I lay the responsibility for this aspect of our family harmoniousness at the feet of my wife.  I hope the ability for our family to harmonize will carry down through the generations.