The Fatherlode, Part 3
Now spinning… The Temptations Greatest Hits, Copyright 1966, Gordy Records. Cleaned up and playing fine~ Thanks Dad!
I am back at the top of the stairwell. I didn’t remember to take a picture this time. Just further down the hall is a door that leads to my parents’ attic. I crack the door and proceed up the stairs.
This is a large home. It has nooks and crannies—even a false wall storage space to the right of where I am climbing the stairs. My mom tells me her old porcelain dolls are stored in that space. I briefly think that will be a little creepy to find when we go through the house extensively at some point in the future. I am curious to check now, but I decide to remain focused on my treasure hunt.
It bears fruit quickly.
At the top of the stairs, there is a room—maybe about 10’ x 12’—with three windows facing out to the street. This was an art studio for one of the home’s prior owners, but it is now filled with shelving, storage, and Rubbermaid bins.
Mom is, to say the least, crafty. I don’t know what you would call this assortment a "collection," but I think it looks like a forgotten warehouse at Michael’s or Hobby Lobby would. There are all sorts of ribbons, fake flowers, and other things here, but an item on the bottom shelf near the windows immediately catches my eye.
A small, red aluminum case with a white lid was on my shortlist to look for up here - and here it sits. It is a case of 45 RPM "singles" dating back to the 1950’s - possibly farther. Next to it is a cardboard cube containing maybe 20 records. They are of little interest to me - Puff the Magic Dragon, old Donnie and Marie Osmond albums - this is what it was to be a kid in the early 70’s. I did locate the missing album jacket for the Bay City Rollers Greatest Hits, which I figure belongs with my prior find.
The 45s are a completed side quest, so I venture to the main attic to continue the mission at hand.
To the left is the old area where Mom and Dad would keep their holiday storage, items that have since been relocated to the garage over the years. I take a cursory look and don’t find much of interest.
As I continue through the attic, there are boxes and boxes, hanging clothes — anything and everything. I see the old tin soldiers my Grandfather made, and my Mom painted for holiday decorations. It would be hard to ship those to Arizona, but I’d love to have them. On the other side of the chimney, they are leaning against, I find Dad’s old stereo - next to a milk crate full of old posters from my room. If I were spending the whole day doing this, I would go through them, but I am not.
Another day, perhaps — if Mom hasn't disposed of them by then.
I am looking for a specific item—one I was certain was in the chest by the stairs the last I remembered. It is a grey leather case with a clasp. It holds about 20 records, and I used to keep the most "collectible" records from my collection in it. I was slightly panicked when it wasn’t in the chest, but I knew that if my Dad had moved it anywhere, it would be here in the attic.
Seeing the posters raises my hopes. They are near other items from my youth, so naturally, I think I am getting warm. I turn the corner and find my old Casio keyboard on a shelf, under a never-opened bazooka-looking accessory for my Super Nintendo. I briefly wonder what these things go for, but then I turn and see the case I’ve been seeking on the floor by a wall of old puzzles and games.
I opened the case and immediately saw Obi strips on a few of the records. "I’ve found them," I say to myself excitedly. I close the case, then hurriedly grab the 45s and head back downstairs, turning off the lights.
Reaching the living room, I re-open my find. It is time to assess my collection and its condition - starting with this case.
The first record is an autographed copy of Eddie Money’s Can’t Hold Back. I scored the signature on the sleeve myself, having interviewed Mr. Money while in college. Past that, the Japanese Guns 'n Roses album I had remembered was Appetite for Destruction was actually a rare, 45 RPM 12" called Live from the Jungle. It's not what I thought, but it's still cool.
My copy of Journey’s Dream After Dream is missing the Obi strip, which I vaguely recall discarding in my youthful ignorance. Fortunately, the inner sleeve and liner notes with stills from the film are still in good condition. I also find a Japanese copy of Journey’s Next album, which I had not recalled having.
One disappointment—my Japanese copy of Rush’s Permanent Waves is unfortunately not in great shape. I decide to keep that in New York, knowing a friend gifted me a nice copy of the album last year.
All of my Journey albums are present and look to be in better shape than I expected. I am particularly happy to find In The Beginning, a compilation of the band’s pre-Steve Perry work that I have not seen at all since I began collecting again. I am also kicking myself because I don’t see Steve Perry’s Street Talk. I have previously passed up both a $1 copy on special for Record Store Day and a Japanese pressing that went for $60 on a recent auction I watched.
Add that to the list of records to look for, I guess.
In all, I have pulled out about 50 albums from my collection and my father's. My sister says she wants to keep the Bay City Rollers record, so that's one less for me. Half of the albums will travel with me in a vinyl record travel bag by Akozlin, which I was gifted for Father's Day by my son specifically for this purpose. The rest? They have been shipped to me in the old, grey case - secured with the pillow Grandma cross-stitched for me and an Afghan blanket she knitted.
This was a fruitful endeavor, I think to myself. Collecting has helped re-connect me to music, enjoying it in ways I hadn’t in years. Now, reunited with my own albums and augmenting my collection with my father’s, I feel even more sentimental about my burgeoning record library.
