Kids, It’s Called a Record Player
The Lillian Vernon Christmas catalog arrived in the mail Friday and I handed it to my seven-year-old in the car as we were pulling into our driveway from school. She started flipping through the pages and I told her that when I was a kid we got something called the Sears Wish Book and that I’d pick out what I wanted for Christmas. This revelation blew right over her head as she was engrossed in the personalized pink leopard luggage.
Then our neighbor’s little girl came over to play for a little while. My daughter was excited about showing her something and headed down the hall toward her room. I blew it off until I saw her run into the den with a dusty Jim Croce album in her hands.
Look at what my daddy has! It’s a RECORD PLAYER!
And then my youth unfurled itself at my feet and all I could think about was making mix tapes from Casey Kasem’s Top Forty weekly radio show, stretching the cord on our harvest green wall mount kitchen phone as far as it would go so I could talk to my friends in semi-private, watching Friday Night Videos on my little color TV with rabbit ears, and our first microwave oven that weighed 5 tons.
That’s right kids. There was once a world not dominated by YouTube, reality TV, and Ryan Seacrest.
Originally published on BlondeMomBlog
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