This past summer when 8-year-old Christina Burns sang "The Star-Spangled Banner" in front of hundreds of people in Unionville, her performance wasn't opening just any Fourth of July festivity.
Christina opened her father's hard-rock concert.
"Nobody wanted to follow her," said her father, Donnie Burns, as he and his family watched The Wizard of Oz together in their living room.
"I made my dad hold my hand," the cheerful blond third grader said.
"When it was through, you heard hundreds of people go, 'awww,' all at the same time -- something you don't usually hear at my shows," Burns said.
Her dad, the singer for Native Sun, is long haired and dressed in a black Harley-Davidson T-shirt, black leather jacket and big untied white high-top sneakers. Even though Christina smiles bashfully and rolls her eyes at him as he retells her adventures in the spotlight, she already shows telltale signs of craving the attention that comes with being an entertainer.
Thirteen-year-old Tabitha and 3-year-old Donnie Burns aren't as theatrical as their sister Christina, but there are other children of State College musicians who, although still young, are showing tendencies of following in their parents' footsteps.
Ana-Sophia Ross sits in a wooden high chair and picks at her dad's vegetable omelet, completely at ease with the guitar blues wailing from the stereo in the next room.
Her father, guitarist Mark Ross from Queen Bee and the Blue Hornet Band, can already tell that his 14-month-old is a ham, "a people-kind-of baby," a music lover. Ana-Sophia's favorite toys are her father's hard-shell equipment case, which she scribbles on with chalk, and his guitars.
"She's a freak for music," Ross said. "I was so much hoping she'd be normal."
Ross said that Ana-Sophia's love of music was influenced by her pre-natal care. When his wife Cindy was pregnant with her, Ross sang to her and Cindy could feel her kicking and moving when she went to see him play. It's no surprise that now, as soon as you put a record on, she dances.
Linden Keal, son of musician and free-lance writer Jennifer Chesworth, had a dose of music before he was born, too. Chesworth didn't stop performing live until 4 months into her pregnancy.
Chesworth said that although she doesn't try to define the 4-year-old Linden or push him in any particular direction, she can see an affinity for rhythm and voice developing already.
"I think what he really is is a drummer," Chesworth said. "His little best friend Ethan is a guitarist."
Reputations of being a ham aren't the only thing these music babies have in common. Although most of these families take pleasure in simple things like going to the park or to the Happy Valley Friendly Farm, their parents can often give them experiences worthy of a show-and-tell speech.
Five-year-old Kelly Mangan, daughter of guitarist J.R. Mangan, is not only known for a dad who plays "Bingo" on his guitar at birthday parties and preschool Christmas parties. In 1990, Kelly danced with Ziggy Marley's son during his 19-year-old father's performance at the Sy Barash Regatta.
And although the kids don't get to schmooze in the bars, Ana-Sophia and the Burns children get to see another aspect of their fathers' careers through soundchecks and visits to recording studios, a privilege that even those of age don't always get to experience.
But Christina Burns said hanging out in studios or being able to say that her dad knows Lenny Kravitz isn't necessarily the best thing about having a musician for a parent.
"I get to hear all the songs before anybody else does," Christina said.
Burns is glad his daughter isn't caught up in the glamour of a rock 'n' roll household.
"A lot of what I get paid to do is very, very intense," Burns said, "and my wife and I try to keep that separate from the family. We try to keep the hoopla out of the house."
Since Burns works for the Office of Housing and Food Service Operations during the day, he said that having a full-time job cuts into his time to advance his musical career.
"Usually by the time I get home, I'm toast," Burns said.
But while Burns is satisfied performing only a couple of days a week, music is the breadwinner in Mangan's household.
In the public eye, J.R. Mangan spends his nights entertaining University students, staff and alumni and State College residents. But by day, Mangan lives in a different realm: changing diapers, cleaning up spilled milk, doctoring boo-boos.
His world is not only the commonly seen one of smoky bars, beer-scented microphones and raucous sing-along crowds. In a suburban split-level home filled with Cabbage Patch Kids bookbags and refrigerators plastered with finger paintings, Mangan has managed to juggle the unusual combination of glamorous rock 'n' roller and stay-at-home dad.
In turn, his daily routine follows a unique pattern.
The stereotypical dad comes home from the office at 6 for mom's dinner, but Mangan is likely to be cooking for his wife, Cari, and their three children, Kelly, Laney and Frank.
And while other dads turn in at about 11 for a full night's sleep, Mangan is busily rousing a crowd with his acoustic guitar and rough-around-the edges voice. Mangan usually doesn't wake until about 11 a.m., when he gets ready to walk Kelly to the bus stop for kindergarten.
Ross has also found the role of Mr. Mom suited to his blues-band career. While his wife Cindy works during the day as a chemist, Ross and Ana-Sophia hang out, taking walks to the post office with their two huge German shepherds, visiting farms and making lunch to eat with mom on her lunch break. Ana-Sophia's nap time is Ross's business time to do "band stuff."
Chesworth agrees with Ross and Mangan that the biggest advantage of this type of lifestyle is spending time with her son.
"One thing that's a plus about music is it all happens after your child's bedtime, which is grueling for you but you don't miss spending time with your child," she said. "I don't see how people can be parents when in reality they're not spending time being parents."
