The Player
My husband
wanted
a record player.
a record player.
Why? I
asked.
We don’t
have ROOM for a record player.
We don’t
NEED a record player.
We don’t
even OWN any records.
Still, every
time I browsed local thrift stores
he asked, Did you see any record
players for me?
An icy no was my standard reply.
Where would
we PUT a record player? I asked.
Why don’t
you ask for one for Christmas? I offered.
One night we
wandered the Salvation Army
before heading out to dinner. I turned my back
not one minute and, of
course, you know what he found.
A record
player.
A brown
record player.
In a portable
plastic case.
He crossed
the store grinning,
that contraption hanging at his side
like a briefcase.
It’s only
$10, he said.
It’s not
even attractive, I whined.
Are you
kidding?
It’s portable.
It’s awesome, he said.
Then, of
course, we had to buy
some records.
some records.
I've been looking for a portable record player for a very long time....I can understand your husband's request. Wish we lived closer--I've got tons of albums I could give you. Have fun!
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