I was going through stuff in my junk drawer, as I was sure that there were things I could purge. You see, I am still using the Marie Kondo method of decluttering. While going through a junk drawer, I found my old Case Logic book of CDs.
I don’t listen to CDs much anymore, thanks (or no thanks) to iTunes. But I keep them. I paid for them, after all. Also, I worry about losing all of my online songs. If that happened, at least I would have these ones to listen to.
My son has very strong opinions about some of my CDs. He didn’t understand why I would buy an entire CD for just one song. I explained it. He then asked why I bought such bad music.
At first, I explained that tastes in music change. But then I remembered that I was thirty-nine-years-old to his nine-years-old. I told him straight out that I would not defend music choices I made nearly twenty years into the past.
Even with the questions regarding my purchase decisions, I was glad to let him use my CDs at his leisure. He can learn what he likes and doesn’t like. He can use the CDs I am not using. He can learn to operate a CD player.
If I am being completely honest, though, it is kind of about me, too. Seeing him listen to my CDs reminds me of listening to my mom’s records and her eight tracks. My stepmother’s records, too. I learned about Camilo Sesto, El Gran Combo, and Rocio Durcal. You probably don’t know those names, but that’s okay. I connected with the music and I connected with my mother’s past.
Maybe the takeaway from this is that my son will think of me when he hears this song. When he hears Torn by Natalie Imbruglia, he’ll think of me. (He won’t have my memory of 1997 San Francisco and cutting my hair short). When he hears Best That You Can Do by Christopher Cross, he’ll think of mornings spent in our kitchen in Essex Junction, Vermont, (and not visits to the shores of Lake Michigan when his mother was just a girl.)
I’m glad that I let him play the songs at his leisure. I am so happy that my mother did the same for me, too.