I remember when I was boxing up and cleaning out mom’s house a couple of years ago there were two stacks of records. One stack of records I’d collected at garage sales and old music stores. They were mostly popular titles I also had on cassette or CD that i thought also having the album would make a cool novelty.
The other stack was the collection of my mom and dad’s records. Over a couple of decades it had become one tangled and inseparable expression of the young people they used to be when they had no idea how hard life would become.
I loved my parents record collection because as a kid I’d look through it every few years, and I’d see it with a slightly older, slightly more experienced eyes. I’d know more of the artists. I’d be more interested about what records were in there and why.
And on that particular day, when I was sorting both the stacks of records for the last time, I noticed that there were three Carole King Tapestry albums. One the purchase of my 20 something single father. One the purchase of my 20 something single mother. One the purchase of their 20 something son.
And when I hear that album, I think of those three people and how happy they were being young and with their whole complicated lives ahead of them.