I got to feel like a teenager again the other day when we walked into Tom's Music Trade on Main Street in Red Lion. I guess it's not a greatly kept secret, as there were people milling around all over the shop, looking for their perfect find.
The shop wasn't just filled with vinyl--it was filled with memories and feelings and life stages. There in front of me were bins with neatly filed cardboard envelopes that took me back to summers at the pool, my first love, long summer evenings, holidays, and baseball games.
Once again, I felt that rush when my friend and I would go "downtown" and I'd come home with a new '45. The excitment that was contained in that little 7 inch sleeve has been hard to recapture, that is until walking into the shop. There was memorabilia on the walls, and the whole scent of the shop was just captivating to someone who grew up with a record player that rarely got a break. Back in the 60's our alternative for listening to music when we were away from electricity or the car, was a transistor radio. Mine would be pressed against my ears when I could smuggle it out of the house.
Tom, the shop proprietor was warm and knowledgable, and I keep thinking of him as a good "chap," since he grew up in England and still carries the accent.
This was a fun trip, and I have to confess that my husband won with his rock albums versus my soul albums we took there to sell. What a fun excursion, and one of us came away with some money in his pocket. I still prefer soul.
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