"All women were little girls once. Every woman's story is shaped by her own experiences of survival, her inherent capacity to heal from woundedness, and an amazing spirit to thrive amid whatever perspective the world wakes up to, by the day."
A conversation piece, indeed:
Dutchy and I chanced upon this shop again where they sell old-school turntables (fabricated to look like antique, with bluetooth). I gushed. This has been in my bubble thoughts for a long time!
Now- He and I have a verbal pact to unclutter our lives that began two years ago since we renovated house: “Unclutter, declutter, throw and/or give away things that contribute to clutter!”
In short, one should throw away something from the house that hasn’t been used for a year BEFORE bringing in a new one. (Who do you think has more kitsch between the two of us?)
And so- I have this Akai turntable and a hundred LPs that survived “The Big Kitsch Purge.” He wanted me to throw all of them away and thankfully, I ruled in this one. I can’t bear to throw these few remaining memories from my parents. Thanks to them, my 6-year old self knew Henry Mancini, Herb Alpert and the Tijuana Brass Band, Sergio Mendes & Brasil ’66, Barbra Streisand, Santana, Lena Horne, The Sandpipers, Mantovani, Burt Bacharach, The Mamas and Papas, The Beatles, Rolling Stones, Nora Aunor, etc.
I also can’t bear to throw an important part of me, discovered one chilly autumn afternoon in San Francisco, a few years back: I walked the whole length of Haight-Ashbury Street and Haight main avenue and browsed through LPs in weekend open house garages. I was like a kid in a candy store who can’t contain her joy upon seeing the labels and titles. I mouthed so many exclamation points while picking my records. Happiness has a price and it’s $1 per LP.
Upon reaching my San Jose family, my beshie Joy Cristobal Mamaril and I counted 75 (jazz, classical, rock, funk, and theatre collection LPs) to bring home to the Philippines, to join the ones I got from my parents. We packed and shipped them via a Balikbayan box to Subic.
You should try that one time, wherever part of the world you may find yourself alone: Look for old bookshops or vinyl record bars. You’ll be surprised with feelings that might be awaken inside your child-self.
(In Manila, I go to this small haunt in former Marikina Shoe Expo in Cubao called Vinyl Dump Thrift Store. Aside from it, I discovered there are a number of stores owned by vinyl afficionados. Check http://www.spot.ph/shopping/55803/10-best-vinyl-record-stores-in-manila
Now, let’s go back to Dutchy. Emerging from that vinyl shop I said: “I want to sell my turn-table. It’s working, right? We fixed it.”
Came the sheepish grin. “Uh-huh. You’ll sell it so you can buy that new turntable.” he said. A statement not a question.
I laughed. I was trapped. I said: “Yeah! You know, it looks so cool to have that new one, and it’s portable. It is going to be a conversation piece, darling.”
He said: “Yeah-yeah, and I’m going to buy a horse to go to work. THAT is a conversation piece.”