“Nana, what did you say this was for?”
Rose looks across the counter. Her granddaughter, Carmen, 6, stands before the makeshift shelves on the wall opposite the fireplace holding an album she’s pulled from below the stereo.
“It’s how we used to play music. Well, some of us still do.”
Slowly, the tiny girl slips the vinyl record from its sleeve, careful to hold it by the edges. “Let. It. Bleed,” she reads from the blue center label, just loud enough for Rose to hear. “What does that mean? Is that like a boo-boo?”
Rose laughs. “No, not at all. It sort of means let it go. Don’t just hold it in. Like today, there was so much to worry about back then, and people, particularly the younger folks, were looking for peace and hope.” Rose stops, looks into the Carmen’s curious eyes, and smiles. “Never mind me, it’s just the name of the album. The groups were always coming up with really cool names. Hang on and I’ll show you how it works.” Rose pulls the cookie sheet out – perfect – and sets it on the range to cool.
Sliding around the edge of the counter, she moves to the front room next to her granddaughter. “Let me see it.”
“Watch.” Rose turns on the stereo, lifts the dustcover, and sets the vinyl on the turntable. She holds her breath, then sets the needle on the edge of the record. There’s a crackle, but only for a moment, as the room fills with the sound of Keith Richard’s guitar opening Gimme Shelter.
She looks down at the phone, then up to the turntable. There’s a pause and she repeats the back and forth again. “But...what else does it do?”
Rose stops her dance, her eyes falling to the phone. With a sigh, she shifts her gaze to the turntable, Mick still singing for peace at 33 1/3 rpms. “Well, I guess it makes you feel old...”
Go on, admit it... how many of you readers let that track run right through to the end? – editor