The record store (My hometown, pt.1)
Took a nice walk today after work with KK. Walked from the house up to the wall along the marsh, along the wall to the highway and back home. Much has changed since my days of gallivanting freely through the once sleepy town that I call home. I feel compelled to share my version of my hometown as the deluge of tourists and development destroys all that was here from my childhood.
As I walked, I passed the record store. It was closed, but a quick glance inside revealed that it was no longer filled with vinyl or cassette tapes that once filled the store. Gone were the giant sized wall poster of Springsteen’s butt and Motley Crew. I recall a store littered with posters, reggae banners and endless supply of useless band memorabilia. The store now looks clean. You can actually see the walls and ceiling. Memorabilia is sparse and the CD cases look much neater than the mess of used albums that used to line the walls and even the floor. One constant remained. A lone male, sitting in the corner of the closed store chatting on the phone. Ward. I looked twice and sure enough, it was him.
My record store was my record store because of the relationships I had with the people that were there. It was my version of Cheers, where everybody knew my name and I knew all the other regulars. I can’t remember everyone’s name now (my memory fades), but I remember some of the guys that worked there - Luke, Denny and Ward. Every day after school I would hike over to the store, hang out and wait for my friends to join me (usually Musson & Gayle). I had a secret crush on Ward and would often do soda runs to 7-11, just so that I could bring him back his beverage of choice – a diet Pepsi super big gulp.
I spent a fortune of my life savings there, which thankfully was not much, seeing as I didn’t even have a job at the time, only my allowance. Musson must have spent thousands of dollars at the store. She was obsessed with Duran Duran. Hanging out there made me feel grown up and somewhat privileged to have older male friends who didn’t think of me as a child. The people there (employees and other friends I made) introduced me to great music I would have otherwise never listened to. After getting a job at the library (another entry for another day) and eventually a boyfriend (my own age and another future entry), my stops at the store became irregular and infrequent.
After graduating from high school, I lived on campus at the university here. I had no boyfriend and gave Ward my phone number. I was surprised when he actually called me. We talked on the phone several times and he asked me out (he was also single). I said yes, but backed out of the date. I think I couldn’t deal with the fact that he was older. It was just weird. So we never went out, but I found out that he later dated my former friend (and sister of his former girlfriend) and I started dating a guy who was 5-years older than me, so I guess the age thing wasn’t the real issue. He eventually left the store and I lost track of him.
It’s been probably 15 years since I step foot in the store. I noted the hours and think I’ll stop by someday just to say hi and check out what the new generation of music lovers are buying. Maybe I’ll get Musson to join me.
My mood: nostalgic and tired