Broken Vinyl

April 30, 2007

The basement was not as much fun as the attic in my grandparents' house. But it was still a treat to spend time there coloring whilst my grandmother ironed and played records on the hifi. I had two favorites. Sesame Street and Mary Poppins. The Mary Poppins record was broken, with a literal chunk missing from the edge. Thus, we had to start playing it on the third - perhaps halfway through the second song. Still, it was special… and worth the missing spoonful of sugar.

That image popped into my head just now… thinking about broken things… and the worth of clutching onto damaged goods. In the case of the record, there was a loss of songs. I'm not even sure that Side B allowed the pleasure of supercalifragilisticexpialidocious. But… there was the chimney sweep song and the lullaby and enough of Dick van Dyke to make me beg and plead with my grandmother to play it again and again.

Some things can't be fixed again. There is irreparable damage… but does one throw out all the music simply because some songs can never be played again? Sure there are scratches and skips… but doesn't some fun remain? Enough of a jolly holiday with Mary to make it all worthwhile?

Or… does there simply come a point when it is better to get a new album altogether? To spare the all too quick passage of time before the needle plays soundless monotony of skips against the papered section of vinyl?

The fate of that album - as well as the hifi - was the usurpation of my uncle's CD stereo/speaker system. Tossed aside for something new and improved. And now even that is approaching antiquation.

It served its purpose, I suppose. It entertained an energetic kid long enough to allow my grandmother a chance to attend to her laundry. And, broken or not, it still brings a smile to my face to think on it.