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Randomusing

October 31st, 2008 (05:35 am)
nostalgic

current mood: nostalgic

There are some nights that I like to go exploring the Internet wilderness, and by exploring I mean venturing into new blog territory. Some weeks back, I became aware of a blogger connected to someone in my family, and I have to say that reading her blog and those of other people she knows has probably made me happier than I thought could happen this year.

On another blog I read (not the blog of a gay person, which I tell you only because of what follows), I left a lengthy comment about politics for someone with whom I disagree. (Fear not: I was my usual civil self.) As a result, someone else responded to me positively, and when I went to check out his blog, he's a gay Canadian living in the U.S. Figures. I always get along with gay men Canadians. ;)

Something on his blog led me to look for something else, which landed me right in the middle of the blog of someone I know in Houston (who I didn't know blogged). And THAT took up lots of time, because he's quite entertaining, and I like him a lot. In one of his blog entries, he was remembering the first cassette tape he ever bought for himself with his own money (the Bangles). That reminded me of a recent conversation I had with Rhonda when I was recalling My First Albums. Which sent me to the photo archives for this:



Now normally I wouldn't show you a blurry, scratched picture of me being all surly and turning my head away when my mother is trying to take my photo first thing on what is apparently Easter Sunday morning (a guess because I appear to be holding a rabbit). It's not ME you're supposed to be looking at, but that olive drab green box (note the arrow) on a faux wooden cabinet against the wall. It's not a box. It's the record player my mother bought me when I complained because LYNNE had a record player and whatever LYNNE had I had to have. That poor woman. But I digress.

My father was overseas on the birthday when she bought me the record player. (I say that because it meant he made a little extra pay, which is probably why I got a record player at all. Seriously, there weren't many luxuries in those days.) It folded up into that little box thing like you see there, but the front pulled down to access the turntable, and the speakers were hooked on the sides but you can't see them here because they were detachable and connected by SIX FEET of speaker wire so they could actually be in different parts of the room--stereo, woohoo! I would stack way too many albums or forty-fives on that thing, and you just know what kind of damage was done to my records from falling down on each other.

I had a few records I'd inherited from my older siblings, and my cousin Bruce (the one who threw a penny into my mother's grave on behalf of his late father) had given me some records, too. But when I got the stereo, I also got three albums--brand new albums owned by no one before me. I was the one who got to tear off the cellophane and pull out the pristine vinyl that bore not a single scratch or smudge. And even though I was only like, um, minus two years old or something, I still remember what all three albums were:



Apparently, I was very loyal to Columbia Records.

I wore those things out and can still sing every word of every song on all three of them, I'm sure. Though they are stored with a few hundred others in a window seat in my house, I'm betting they're unplayable.

And just to bring this full circle, the other arrow is pointing to a bassinet with my Betsy Wetsy doll sitting in it, but it was actually the bassinet of the family member I was talking about in the first paragraph of this post.

Good memories.

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