Awhile ago my mother gave me all her records. Some of them have little stickers on them. They say prosaic things like: "Return to W." and far more personal things such as "play at funeral". The first note is in case I get hit by a bus tomorrow and somebody going through my stuff knows not to biff the record. The second note, well, it's sort of obvious.One day I took the record collection and a notebook to my mother's house and asked her to talk about each record as it came up. I thought it might be a bit of her history that I didn't know about. It's an odd record collection, and I wanted to know what fitted it all together. We spent an afternoon together. I suppose it's a kind of musical biography of my mother.
3 comments:
Good, so far. What happens next?
In fact, I sniff the scent of a series.
I can't wait for mum's spoon collection.
...sorry for being silly, carry on; I'm reading.
Does Ravi Shankar come into the story soon?
I thought I might start further back... leave Shankar there as a tease. If you're missing my more boring, deep and meaningful posts hit the older posts button (I added another deep and meaningful). Don't despair, I am following your model of being shallow and meaningless from now on. You are my mentor in the way of the blog.
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