This has been a day of mad blogs! I think Portland inspired me to write again, which I will cherish and appreciate.
We finally got the record player hooked up...after 2 months of talking about it. I forgot how much I love vinyl. It reminds me of my dad...the good parts of my dad. I'm listening to Hall and Oats right now. The record is crackly a little, just like it did when I was a kid, sitting on my daddy's lap, watching him close his eyes and bob his head to the beat. His beard, practically black, which he donned for as long as I can remember, was always the perfect edition to his green eyes and long eyelashes. I can see now why my mother fell so madly in love with him. Sometimes I forget they're no together anymore...but that's for another day.
I inherited quite a collection from him if I don't say so myself. Original edition Beatles albums, the entire works of the Moody Blues, Paul Simon, Neil Young (own it people, he's brilliant), Simon and Garfunkel, The Allman Brothers, Pink Floyd, The Doors, The Stones, Zepplin, Elton John, Johnny Cash, Bob Dylan, America, The Who, Frank Zappa, John Lennon, Paul McCartney (the orgininators of side projects and solo careers), Bruce Springstein. My dad had a thing for aging guitar players. Seriously though, they're so classic they'll never go out of style.
Sitting here on my bedroom floor, surrounded by the last 20 years of his record collection, I'm missing him more than ever.
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2 comments:
vinyl rocks and we have a music store here that has thousands of vinyl ( store called "everyday music" in downtown along burnside rd)
check it out!
I was wandering Facebook, and I saw the links to your blogs and ended up here. So, not a stalker! Well, not deliberately, at least.
I have some of the same kinds of memories of your dad, minus the beard. He was just a skinny kid with me, but I remember sitting on his lap, listening to music. On the trip home when he first brought your mom, he drove us to the roller rink, and I can still hear him singing along with the radio. It was almost 30 years ago, and I still can't hear "Life in the Fast Lane" by the Eagles without remembering that ride, nestled up against him as he drove (it was the 70s, we didn't believe in carseats or seatbelts) listening to him sing. He had a really nice voice.
I don't know how to ask this delicately, but is he gone, as in gone from your life, or is he just gone? I haven't spoken to him since the day my mom died. I never quite knew where he went after the divorce, and with my own kids and all that taking up so much of my attention, I never took the time to track him down. I'm feeling really guilty about that right about now.
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