Maybe the Vinyl wasn’t Broken, I was.

I’ve held on to an inherited turntable throughout my adult life. I don’t even have that many vinyls, but I’ve always felt emotionally attached to it… like how most people keep relationships that no longer serve them, just because, you know… “it has history.” Or whatever

Every few months, I’d wipe it clean, fidget with the needle, and act like I knew what I was doing. Truth is, I didn’t. I just liked the sound it made when it accidentally worked and I loved the silence that followed when it didn’t.

Then Maame Ama, in one of her most thoughtful moments, got me The Blueprint album on vinyl, my favorite Jay-Z era, in all his early-2000s glory. You’d think I’d play that thing nonstop, right?

Yeah you guys remember Maame… don’t you?

Nope. I played it twice. Maybe three times. Then my turntable decided to start dying like a Game of Thrones  character… slowly, dramatically, and right after I started caring again.

Naturally, I tried to fix it myself. Because that’s what men do, I thought I was Tesla in his prime. Spoiler alert: I wasn’t. The thing about Tesla though, he failed over a thousand times and still kept going.

Yeah I tried my best…

I failed once and realized, very quickly, that I’m a breaker, not a fixer. My dating history can testify if you need further evidence, your honor.

The turntable belonged to my granddad Eddie, which he probably bought as a young man in Russia around the time the unprecedented Sputnik was launched successfully. Now satellites get thrown up in the sky for fun and giggles… crazy how far we’ve come as a civilization.

He was there studying and, like any man in love and in exile, needed something to play his heartbreak to. So, he got a turntable.

He’d play songs that reminded him of the love of his life, my grandmother.

You have to remember, when they were young, long distance meant actual distance. Like, “send a letter by ship at puberty and hope it arrives before your wedding” kind of distance.

Edith, my grandmother, was a serious Catholic. It’s weird how I don’t even have a mental image of her without her favorite Virgin Mary necklace around her neck.

I never got to spend much time with them because, like true romantics, one didn’t wait too long to join the other after the first left this world.

Their story was like one of those old-school love letters…. short, heartfelt, and hard to replicate.

Anyway, I kept the turntable because it was the one physical thing that tied me to them since I’m clearly not a catholic right now or schooling in Russia…

it was something older, simpler, and probably more honest than the Apple Music playlist your talking stage makes for you after the first few days of sweet talking right before they ghost you…loool

Totally unrelated photo cause I felt like it

At some point, I stopped using the turntable as much. I told myself it was because of “time” and “responsibilities,” but truthfully, adulting just played a different soundtrack; bills, deadlines, and that one rich friend who keeps planning expensive trips and activities for you to do.

A random image birthed via indulging said friends

Growing up is weird like that. You spend your youth trying to collect things that make you feel something, and then adulthood comes along like, “Delete all that my friend, there’s a meeting at 9.”

Life is a weird movie that gets real so fast you don’t even get enough time to realize that you are the main character.

I can’t even remember the last song I played on it. And when I switched apartments before moving halfway across the world on a short notice, I’m pretty sure I left it behind. It wasn’t in my checked baggage or my carry-on, which can only mean one thing: it’s gone.

Random Confession, I take pictures of my bags at check in so I remember what they look like at baggage claim

I had one thing that carried the memory of two of the best people I’ve ever known …. and now I don’t.

But maybe that’s what growing up is: losing things, one beloved object at a time, until the only thing left is you.

You never know when it’s the last time you’ll enjoy something you’ve always loved so when you get the chance, hit play like it’s your last track.

Oh look, anotherrandomphotowithzerocontext.

Do you have one lost item from your life you wish you could get back? Tell me about it.

If you’ve read all the way to this point…you’re far too kind. You could’ve been reading anything else in the world, but you chose this. And I appreciate that. See you again in a bit.