Record Time

For a while, I have been into records. It's such an interesting ordeal, the process of putting a record on the record player. And that you have to stay in one place to listen to the music is something I value--it makes you slow down. It's an experience. My friend Drew gave Mihir and I a record player as a college gift, and we loved it for a while. Then the turntable got wobbly, and it made the music sound warped when it played. It became unbearable after a time, so we just stopped listening to records. However, I remember my dad saying that he had saved his record player from the 70s, and that it was just sitting in storage somewhere in our house. I asked my dad if I could have it, because I would get enjoyment out of it, rather than have it just sit in the closet. He said no, because he wants to save it and hopefully sell it one day, because it's in good condition, he says. That made me mad, but I guess he has the right to do what he wants with it. Nevertheless, I kept bugging him. So...

Today, my dad and I pulled out his old record player from the coat closet to see if it would work. We unpacked the equipment, checked the fuses in the receiver, adjusted the turntable, and prayed that it worked. For a moment, it wouldn't work. I had to physically spin the turntable to get it going. But then, we figured out that you had to move the needle in order to start it. Me and Dad high fived as Boston's "More Than A Feelin'" blasted in our kitchen. We started at 9pm and didn't finish listening to songs until 11pm. Then he went out to the garage and came back with a cardboard box, saying that I could set the record player on it in my room if I wanted to. I wanted to. I was so happy that I don't think I communicated my happiness to him, which sucks because I want him to know that I appreciate him trusting me with the player.

As I type, I'm listening to America's self titled album, and I really like it. I'm surprised that I would like a band this quickly, but I do. Here's to records and generous fathers.