Tuesday, February 7, 2012


My only regret in regards to my latest musical endeavour is that my own father never got to be involved with my little project.  Besides my own inner passion to perform well and succeed, he is the main reason I pursued music with such vigour in the first place. Countless hours of practising Bach and Brahms on my cello with him hovering over my shoulder telling me to "play it again and play it better, biscuit!" Prompted me to refuse practising in his presence altogether as a teen. 

John Daniel Le Van Jr. never played an instrument, but sang a deep encompassing baritone that filled the church every Sunday. Singing the bass lines of the hymn book, we were embarrassed as children by his booming, reverberating  vocals. Yet he loved the attention from all the old church biddies, and performed for them from his pew with heart, soul, perfect pitch and timing.

He would wake us up every Saturday morning much to our dismay crooning 'Ramona' at the top of his lungs, drowning out our groans of discontent....

He was a French Hugenot from the Ozark Mountains of Springfield Missouri. He never knew a life without music and wanted nothing more from me than to become a professional musician. How terribly disappointed he was when I quit the cello in the mid 1990's and took a detour from music altogether just a few years before he died. 

He gave me the moniker 'Wendy Biscuit' the day I was born apparenty because i was fat and round like the southern breakfast staple...'biscuits and gravy' He even composed a little jingle and sang it to me every Sunday morning while we walked to church. Here's how it went...

Little bitty Wendy Biscuit
Little bitty Wendy girl
Daddy gotta biscuit
Little bitty baby girl

As a teenager he embarassed me further by calling me "biscuit" in front of my punk rock friends who snickered and poked fun at my hated nickname. Only since last year have I learned how precious were the gifts he gave me. I can boldly say that the Wendy Biscuit Blues Band is an offering to his memory and I mourn the fact that he will never be in the front row where he always said he wanted to be.


  1. Your heart-felt story brought me to tears Wendy. I'm sure he's up there cheering his biscuit girl on! Keep playing your music girl!

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  3. dont worry hurc,,,,,,,her father is sitting in the front row every time she is on stage!!!!