Songs Never Heard
A craft podcast that spotlights some of the best songs you've never heard.
Songs Never Heard
S1E5: Father of the Year (Don Sechelski)
An estate sale find that sparked a song about love and legacy.
Father of the Year on Bandcamp: https://donsechelski.bandcamp.com/track/father-of-the-year
More of Don's music:
- Bandcamp: https://donsechelski.bandcamp.com/
Robert Howell:
My name is Robert Howell, and in this series I'll be sharing and digging into some of my favorite songs that I've come across during my time in the underground songwriting scene. Songs written by talented people who are creating music that deserves wider recognition. Songs that unfortunately, most of the world may never hear.
Welcome to Songs Never Heard.
This episode's song was born from a handmade sign hanging in a basement. A child's scrawled tribute that immediately struck the songwriter as something worth exploring.
Let's hear "Father of the Year" by Don Sechelski.
Don Sechelski:
Clouds hang low on a Saturday morning,
People shuffle through the old front door.
Tagged and priced, a lifetime’s left behind,
Faded shirts still folded in the drawers.
In the basement, past the furnace hummin’,
Neatly lined, his tools all shine.
Wood and steel, years of careful hands,
Every piece still set in line.
And there it hangs, on a nail in the dust,
A child’s scrawl, framed in rust.
"Father of the Year, 1965,"
Just paper and ink, but still so alive.
Golden plaques hanging all in a row,
Honors earned from years long past.
Yet the one that holds the weight of love,
Is the simplest, meant to last.
And there it hangs, on a nail in the dust,
A child’s scrawl, framed in rust.
"Father of the Year, 1965,"
Just paper and ink, but still so alive
I wonder who he really was,
A man of titles, a man of trust.
Did he wear that crown with pride?
Or was it just another day gone by?
I slip outside, the crowd moves on,
Hands full of someone else’s past.
And I think of all the marks we leave,
What will linger, what will last?
And there it hangs, on a nail in the dust,
A child’s scrawl, framed in rust.
"Father of the Year, 1965,"
Just paper and ink, but still so alive.
Robert Howell:
That was "Father of the Year" by Don Sechelski. The inspiration for this song came from an experience that was entirely new for Don. He was visiting his brother in Detroit, an estate sale enthusiast, who invited Don and his wife out on one of the mornings to visit a sale with him
As they made their way through the house, they eventually found themselves in the basement, which had been the owner's workshop. It was there that Don spotted something that immediately caught his attention.
Hanging on the wall was a child's handwritten sign reading 'Father of the year 1965.' Don's reaction was instant and certain. "I immediately turned to my wife and said, 'That's a song.'"
Don keeps a notebook on his phone specifically for capturing song ideas, and as soon as they got back to the car, he was already at work. He noted the title and jotted down a couple of initial thoughts about what the song might become. That simple handmade sign had sparked an immediate realization that there was a story worth exploring hidden within it that demanded to be told.
Having never attended an estate sale before, Don found himself in unfamiliar territory. Walking through someone else's house with all their belongings still there felt strange to him. "A little like that scene in a Christmas Carol," he says," when the rag pickers are going through Scrooge's belongings after he's died."
But Don's songwriter instincts kicked in as he moved through the house. He wasn't just browsing items for sale, he was reading the story of a life through the details left behind. The basement workshop told him this was from someone who worked with their hands. The tools were neatly organized, everything in its place, suggesting a methodical, careful person.
When Don spotted plaques hanging on the wall, he could piece together more of the puzzle. The man had been an engineer, someone who'd earned professional recognition over the years. But it was what hung next to those official awards that really caught Don's attention and sparked his imagination.
That handmade "Father of the Year 1965" sign wasn't tucked away in a closet or forgotten in a drawer. It was displayed prominently in the man's workshop. His retreat. Right alongside his professional achievements.
"Father of the Year" was written last February as part of FAWM, February Album Writing Month, an online songwriter's challenge to write 14 songs in 28 days. Don's approach this year represented a significant shift in his creative process.
He'd always found lyrics to be his biggest stumbling block as a songwriter. His typical approach was to start with the music and maybe a snippet of lyrics, but then he gets stuck trying to complete them. For the FAWM challenge, he decided to completely reverse his process.
With "Father of the Year" and most of the songs in that challenge, Don wrote the lyrics first and didn't add any music until they were completely finished. This process change did the trick. It's what helped him complete FAWM for the first time after decades of songwriting.
Having that compelling concept from the estate sale made this new approach even more effective. "This song seemed very easy to write," Don says, "partly because the title really pointed the way forward," but also because he could focus entirely on crafting the story without getting distracted by musical considerations.
The lyrical pause between the third and fourth lines of each verse isn't something most listeners would consciously notice. But it creates a distinctive rhythm that makes "Father of the Year" different. Don made this choice deliberately.
"As writers, we tend to follow the same templates all the time, making our work sound the same". Don explains. "So I try to insert little things to break up the listeners' expectations." In this case, that means five musical bars with only four lines of lyrics, creating an intentional gap in the middle of each verse.
Don says, the pause also serves another purpose: "I think that break also tended to emphasize the fourth line lyric." Those emphasized moments, lines like "Every piece still set in line" or "What will linger, what will last" land with more impact because of the musical space surrounding them.
It's a subtle structural choice that demonstrates Don's awareness of songwriting craft. His decision to do something slightly unconventional, not only provides a unique listening experience, but also allows the music to serve the story more effectively.
“Father of the Year” stands out not just for its storytelling, but for its pristine production quality. The crystal clear acoustic guitar, subtle cello arrangements, and perfectly balanced mix reflect Don's decades of studio experience. Resources that most independent songwriters simply don't have access to.
Don's production journey began in the mid 1980s when he started learning to run the board in a commercial studio. After taking a break from music for several years, he returned when digital recording had made home studios more affordable, building a network of musician friends who helped bring his songs to life.
But despite his high caliber resources and extensive experience, Don says the concept he had in mind for "Father of the Year" wasn't as easy to achieve compared to other songs he'd produced. The arrangement Don envisioned required finger picking, something that has become increasingly difficult due to carpal tunnel in both hands, and nerve damage from a childhood skateboard accident. " This song required finger picking and I had a pattern in mind," Don says, "so I just gutted it out."
The process became a test of endurance. Don could do one take and then had to stop and rest his hands before trying again. "I like to get three to four takes. So it took a couple of days to get the basic acoustic guitar part down." That dedication is on display in the final result. A foundation track that gently supports the song's intimate storytelling.
The vivid imagery that flows through "Father of the Year" isn't accidental. Don is a deliberate student of songwriting craft, particularly influenced by Pat Pattison's book "Writing Better Lyrics." Pattison's main philosophy, which Don has embraced and I subscribe to as well, is simple but powerful: capturing listener's emotions doesn't come from telling them things. It comes from showing them things.
"That means rich sensory details as much as possible." Don explains, "If I can describe the smell of your grandmother's oatmeal cookies well enough to make you smell them again, it will bring up all kinds of rich emotional feelings." Rather than writing songs that preach or rely on cliches, Don focuses on specific tangible details that let listeners fill in their own interpretations and responses.
This approach is evident throughout "Father of the Year." For example, instead of telling us the deceased man was methodical, Don shows us tools that are "neatly lined" with "every piece still set in line." Rather than explaining that the estate sale felt strange. He paints the scene with details that let us experience it ourselves.
Don says he always strives to include these sensory details in his songs because he believes it's one of the things that can make a good song better. For "Father of the Year," describing their actual walk through the house, provided many of those details, naturally. Allowing listeners to experience the story rather than just hear about it.
The contrast between the plaques and the child's handmade award wasn't something Don had to imagine or invent for dramatic effect As he walked through that basement workshop, both were hanging together on the wall telling their own story about what this father truly valued.
"The contrast between the golden plaques and the handwritten sign came naturally out of the situation." Don explains, "They'd literally hung together on the wall, telling me that he honored that sign as much as he'd honored his professional awards." What struck Don as particularly meaningful was the placement. It was displayed in the man's workshop right alongside his engineering achievements.
When I jokingly ask whether the sign could have been sarcastic, Don said he never even considered that. The place of honor it held suggested something much deeper. He said, "It was interesting and telling to me that he hung this tender, loving note in his man cave next to his plaques."
This juxtaposition became the emotional heart of "Father of the Year." A song that asks profound questions about legacy and love, about the artifacts we choose to keep close, and what they reveal about who we really are. That simple handmade sign in a stranger's basement was indeed a story worth exploring. Which Don captured perfectly by following his songwriter's intuition, in a song that honors a man that he never knew.
"Songs Never Heard" is written and produced by me, Robert Howell. It's a tribute to all the seldom heard music that, in my opinion, rivals what you'd hear on the popular charts. If you're interested in having one of your songs featured. Drop me a note at rrobhowell@gmail.com.
Until next time, keep writing.