Fusion 45

Throw Her Off By Actually Asking Permission

“I have a confession,” I said to my wife as she sat at the kitchen table, writing out the kid’s morning chore list. “I’m a sick man”.

She looked up from her yellow pad and scratched the top of her head with the pencil, giving me her is-this-going-to-be-a-confession-about-an-old-girlfriend look. I took that as a cue to go on.

“I was looking at the classifieds,” I said, “and saw there’s a garage sale going on about 10 miles from here. It starts in about 15 minutes, ” I continued, “and, um, they have records”.

The look on her face went from old-girlfriend to new-kitchen (with-the-money-he-spends-on-music). I figured I’d better keep things moving.

“C’mon,” I said, “it’s fun for me. My cavemen ancestors hunted wild board. I look for a mint-condition copy of the first Talking Heads album.”

“Well,” she said, closing with her I-can’t-win-this-one look, “boy have to have their fun.”

“So I can go?” (It’s not my typical M.O.; usually I just leave and answer questions later).

“Of course, you can. You’re a grown man; you can do whatever you want to do”.

Having accomplished my goal I decided to save my own favorite facial expressions (the who-are-you-trying-to-fool look) and thought better to simply wheel and head fro the door.

“But take your son with you,” she said, “I want him to witness first hand why they’re going to put you away.”

Me and You, Boo

“This is one of my favorite things to do,” my shaggy-headed boy said, as we got into the car.

The night before, when we were walking the dog, he said I was his favorite person in the whole world. He’s 10, about 5′2″, with enough curly blond hair for three kids and a winning smile. He’s firmly planted in a world where he still loves Legos but is aware of girls (and is thoroughly confused as to why anyone would want to be sexually active). He plays baseball like a teenager and still sleeps with stuffed animals.

But today, he justs wants to hang with Daddy at garage sales.

Stop #1: I Kinda Wish I’d Haggled for That Baseball Glove

Our first destination proved worthless. There were two boxes of 78’s but I’ve no interest in that action. The 33’s were all bad Christian music. (Note: For those who are wondering, by that I mean bad music made by Christians, not music made by bad Christians).

There were a couple of leather baseball gloves for which they wanted $15 apiece; I probably could’ve gotten the pair for that but I wasn’t in the mood to haggle (and now that my cheap lost-and-found Louisville Slugger pleather softball glove is torn, I regret it. Oh, to find the 1985 Rawlings Dale Murphy that was stolen last fall).

Stop #2: The Long And Winding Road

After spending a few minutes looking at 5 cent juice glasses and a $50 commode (like I’d spend 5 cents on a used toilet), we decided we’d take the back way home and see what we could find. Stop #2, down a long winding road off the highway, we hit paydirt: Bill Withers Just As I Am; Otis Redding The Dock of The Bay; Johnny Nash I Can See Clearly Now and Kenny Rogers & The First Edition Ruby, Don’t Take Your Love To Town.

Stop #3: The Yard Sale Motherlode

Once a year the mobile home park people get to have a rummage sale. No music but a 25 cent watering wand for the Buddha Garden and a 50 cent copy of A League of Their Own (and an interesting conversation with the boy about the relative merits of living in a mobile home. He determined there are very few).

Stop #4: Homeward Bound

A $3 copy of a 6-year old Indiana Jones video game he’s played once. Used his own money, though, and was quite proud of his purchase. Total spent between us: $5.75. But, as they say, it was priceless.

Some select cuts from our haul plus a few I mentioned in my Vinyl Record Day post.

Isley Brothers - Vacuum Cleaner
I had to laugh when I saw this title.

The Impressions - This Is My Country
Biting sarcasm from Curtis Mayfield and Company from the album cover down to the last song.

Otis Redding - I’m Coming Home
A great one from a great great set.

Johnny Nash - Ooh Baby You’ve Been Good To Me
Probably did more to bring reggae to the masses than Bob Marley himself.

Kenny Rogers And The First Edition - Once Again She’s All Alone
Most interesting thing about this album is that the drummer is credited as being Mickey Hart. That one sent me scrambling to the wikipedia. Turns out his name was Mickey Jones. Someone smokin’ a little too much of the wacky tabacky over there at Reprise. Good thing Sinatra didn’t hear about that.

Dwight Yoakam - 1000 Miles
I like Dwight.