Alyssa Daehnke by liuhongmei

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									Alyssa Daehnke
CWR 20601
Week 4 Assignment
10/02/2006

                                  Record of a Childhood


There is a turntable in the house I grew up in that floods me with memories. It is in

perfect condition, black and glossy, with not a speck of dust to be found on or around it.

It is in an oak stereo cabinet that sheltered the turntable throughout my messy babyhood

and clumsy childhood. The grain on the cabinet is worn and tattered, with Crayola graffiti

that can be found every few inches. There are records piled on the shelves below the

turntable, faded, sometimes warped, but mostly intact.

When I couldn’t sleep, all energy and motion, my Daddy would put Don McLean’s

American Pie on. We danced around to American Pie and by the time we got to Vincent

my eyes would be droopy. Now whenever I hear Vincent I get teary-eyed. Whenever I

look at the turntable I see my Daddy swinging me around with that to-die-for smile. I

hear his voice singing along with Don. He knew all the words. That used to amaze me.

How could he remember all those words? Now they’re engrained in my memory.

I remember my Mom putting on Journey whenever she cleaned. It was always so loud,

but that’s how she liked it. “When it’s too loud, you’re too old!” Whenever I heard the

sound of the needle on the record I knew it was time to go downstairs and join the fun.

Dancing and singing and vacuuming. I can still see her stopping in the middle of

vacuuming the floor to play the air guitar at a great part in a song. Or the drum solo in

Separate Ways. She loves that drum solo.
And whenever Mom was cooking for a big party, Yes would be on. Whenever I hear Yes

now, I swear I can smell the food cooking. I can almost taste it, it’s so strong. Cookies

and cakes and chicken and pasta. The scent of everything she ever made while playing

Yes just drifts through my nose.

Whenever I’m home I pull out a record and put it on the turntable and just lay on the

couch, listening, remembering my childhood. The nostalgia is so strong I almost forget

that I’m 20 years old now. It doesn’t really matter which album it is, just as long as the

turntable is on. Bruce Springsteen, Journey, Don McLean, Yes, Carole King. The names

go on and on. The records of my life.

								
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