A Wall of Vinyl, Loving the Unlike, Wearing a Mask like a Good Person

“The poet called Miss Liberty’s torch ‘the lamp beside the golden door.’ Well, that was the entrance to America, and it still is. And now you really know why we’re here tonight. The glistening hope of that lamp is still ours. Every promise, every opportunity, is still golden in this land. And through that golden door our children can walk into tomorrow with the knowledge that no one can be denied the promise that is America. Her heart is full; her torch is still golden, her future bright. She has arms big enough to comfort and strong enough to support, for the strength in her arms is the strength of her people. She will carry on… unafraid, unashamed, and unsurpassed. In this springtime of hope, some lights seem eternal; America’s is.”
— Ronald Regan

Good morning, good afternoon, good evening, or whenever you find time to consume these words.  Currently, it’s 7:04 E.T. I slept like a champ, snuggled with my wife, navigated my dog’s various positions when sleeping. So, it’s Saturday morning; welcome to the weekend.

Yesterday I had lunch with a friend and client; I arrived early, I ordered a Heineken 0.0, my go-to when not drinking.  He showed up, noticed I was having a “beer,” and ordered a “regular” beer, unlimited booze, octane, and all. I shared I had a nonalcoholic beer, but since my self-imposed sobriety run was over, I would join him in having a real live beer.  My daughter was joining us, so I pushed the 0.0 to her spot and ordered a glorious glass green glass holding fermented liquid of the Gods.  That is how my sober journey ended, and it might have been the best damn beer I’ve had in years.

We worked until early afternoon and then ran to Costco to fill up our house; since arriving back home, we have yet to stock up, it’s caused us to order our many a night, not a good habit, but we now have food to cook, we are back in business.  We got home and worked a spell before sending a text to our neighbors; we went to the Dugout for dinner. Would they like to join?

We have formed a little group with our neighbor Bill and his neighbors Rick and Saundra; it’s a bit click we have when in Indy, and let me tell you, these folks are a riot.  Bill is a gay man, Rick and Sondra are heterosexual; I’m not sure why I need to reveal the sensual choices of these beings; it might be an NPR thing.  Anyway, we all met at the Dugout, an iconic bar in Indy; it’s old school; it used to be on our dive bar tour until they fixed it up; it’s now a decent place to dine and drink.

We arrived first, ordered a drink, then Rick and Saundra showed up quickly, followed by Bill.  We sat down; Saundra had a gift, some shirts celebrating our end of temperance.  Rick is a police officer; he smells like bacon at times; he is my friend.  He loves Trump, America, and Freedom.  His wife is a beautiful blond, worked for a Fortune 100 company, and is now retired.  Bill thinks Trump is Satan, and so it’s a good group of unlike-minded folk. And guess what society, we love each other, don’t give two shits what the other think about politics, and enjoy each other’s company.

We sat for a couple of hours; a band came on, they played collective soul, some great tunes, we headed back, stopped at Rick and Saundra’s, then came home to watch some tube before going to bed. A great night of hedonism, laughs, and frivolity. We both slept well, up early, making some soup, and then going to some art thing in Irvington.  I think we will meet up with one of our team members, maybe our kid; hell, I don’t know; at this point, I let my wife plan the day; I just enjoy the journey.

Tomorrow is Halloween; we have masks; during a pandemic, it’s good to have masks; we are following the rules and mask up this weekend. “Wear your mask!” Mine is of a man with a few teeth, a cigarette, and my wife’s mask is a woman of maybe 110; we will wear them at the art thing.

I think I’m going to start my day with some vinyl.  I will grab an album; I’ll play it, get a little more coffee, and read the liner notes as I did when I was a kid.  As a child, I would buy albums and then sit and read the tiny words on the sleeve; I could tell you various producers, where the record was recorded, I found solace in knowing about the music. 

I think I have shared, but hell, it’s Saturday; I’ll share again how I made my return to vinyl.  As with most people my age, I had records as a kid but moved on to 8 tracks, cassettes, C.D.s, digital music; I had no need for vinyl.  I had lunch scheduled with a client, we were going to have some Thai, but they were on a wait, so we took a walk in the neighborhood, ironically this neighborhood is where I now live, but I digress.

We walked into a second-hand shop, and there, glowing in a beam of light, was KISS Alive I in perfect condition.  It was as if God had shined a light on my next obsession.  I picked up the album, grabbed some Tom Petty, the Eagles, and Fleetwood Mac, and headed to the counter.  My friend asked, “do you have a record player?”  I replied, “not yet!”   That Christmas, my sex kitten, who became my wife, bought me a record player, and today I own about 2000 plus records. 

Ok, kids, storytime is over, I must move on, the records are waiting, as is the art show; I was just informed our friends Tammy and Randy are joining us, our kid, baby Mary and our teammates at the art thingy. It will be a fun day; I will be silly, wear a mask to be a good citizen, cheers, life is good.  Let’s go, Brandon.

“The poet called Miss Liberty’s torch ‘the lamp beside the golden door.’ Well, that was the entrance to America, and it still is. And now you really know why we’re here tonight. The glistening hope of that lamp is still ours. Every promise, every opportunity, is still golden in this land. And through that golden door our children can walk into tomorrow with the knowledge that no one can be denied the promise that is America. Her heart is full; her torch is still golden, her future bright. She has arms big enough to comfort and strong enough to support, for the strength in her arms is the strength of her people. She will carry on… unafraid, unashamed, and unsurpassed. In this springtime of hope, some lights seem eternal; America’s is.”
— Ronald Regan