As you may know, my parents have put the ol’ house up for sale, thus ridding its contents of my childhood and fond memories. In response I’ve been requesting a collection of items I feel will likely get trashed in the move.  One of those items?

A Pioneer PL-540 turntable, circa 1973.

This baby was my dad’s splurge item after graduating from college.  It is a heavy, heavy TANK of AWESOME.  Because it was housed in the basement with my dollhouse and playsets, most of my early childhood consisted of putting on one of my parents’ LPs and entertaining myself. I did rock to Raffi and Sesame Street Live!, but stuck mainly to the Beatles.

As he handed this beast over to me Tuesday night, my dad said, “There’s a record still in there –  A Hard Day’s Night.”

“That’s weird,” I said. “I have A Hard Day’s Night at my apartment.”

[One summer when I was home from college I ganked a bunch of my parents' records. I knew they weren't being listened to, and even though I had nothing to play them on, I wanted them around. They have more spirit and soul than CDs ever will...]

“Is it your mother’s copy? Or mine?”

“It’s Mom’s.”

“Are you sure it’s not mine?”

“Dad, it has Mom’s teenybopper handwriting all over it.”

But when I got home and pulled this cover, I felt a record already inside…

AWWWW YEAAAAH, SHARON, LOIS, AND BRAM 1987!!!!