In a day that needed a bright spot, something wonderful happened. My household has expanded by two members. See if you can spot them:
Ok. Sorry. That bookshelf is a bit busy. I’ll give you a hint: two vintage beauties sitting on top.
After years of collecting record albums, and hanging them on the wall as art, I finally bought a turntable. I haven’t had one since, well, time out of mind. It’s been too long. I’ve been contemplating the purchase. And then, on Record Store Day, fittingly, I was at In the Groove Records, talking to the owner about my turntablelessness. He was very understanding and not at all judgy. He gave me some pointers. And then a guy flipping through the record bins chimed in, and gave me some pointers on finding a vintage set. “You’ll need a vintage receiver, too,” he told me. “Actually, I’m moving soon, and I have a couple of things I’ve been working on. I’ll get in touch when I’m ready to sell.”
And he did. And now I am the proud housemate of this:
The first round of hooking them up last night did not go smoothly. My shelves are not built for vintage equipment; I need better speakers; and, oh yes. I did not have the foresight to photograph where all of the wires went, before we unhooked them all. I got things to turn. I got things to light up. I got one speaker to work with the radio, and then the other, but no sound from the turntable.
Today, all is well. Turns out, I had everything hooked up correctly, but didn’t have the knobs turned to all the right thingamajigs. I am still learning. I got some help from the vintage turntable guy, and I am in business. I have motion. I have sound. I have pretty lights on the receiver.
I figured my first record had better be a good one. I pulled out Dad’s Dylan album that I came across a couple of months ago, and I cranked it loud.
This one’s for you, Dad.