Today is Record Store Day and I wish you a happy one. Last year I wrote an entry related to the day and I think it’s worth revisiting:
For reasons unbeknownst to me, my children do not enjoy my stories. You know, the “when I was a kid….” stories we parents like to tell? I tell them anyway. I actually have always enjoyed hearing about my parents’ lives pre-marriage. You get to a point though, when you think you know most of the facts. Where they grew up, who their friends were, where they went to college, a few details regarding their romantic relationships before they got together. Well, this past Thanksgiving, during a visit to my mom and dad’s, I found out their first date, or at least close to the first, was to a Peter, Paul and Mary concert. I found that to be very interesting information. The early 1960s, all that was happening. Did they just like the music? How did they fit into the whole scene?
|Peter, Paul and Mary [not my parents]|
Sometimes I’m not sure if our kids realize that who we are today isn’t who we’ve always been. In other words, we grow up, mature and change a bit. While I doubt my parents sat in on any war protests, I wonder what they thought about when they listened to folk music? Or when they saw MLK Jr. on television? Perhaps my workmates think I’m a hippie for a reason……. Although I’ve never seen any photos or indicators pointing towards my parents as such. Besides the folk music. But maybe that’s enough.
Last night, while attending our city’s quarterly Gallery Hop, I overheard two women talking. One was sharing about something her mom told her: There was a war factory in downtown Lexington. Her mom dropped out of college to work there; only women did. I guess the men were away fighting.
I’ve heard of these places. One of my grandmothers worked in one during WWII. Yet, I’ve never heard of one in our town. It’s forgotten history. The listening woman in the gallery told the storyteller she needs to get her mom to write this stuff down. I agree.
Maybe along with Record Store Day, we need a Records Day. A day to make sure we’re passing on our stories. Even if our kids don’t care so much. Someday they might. And I suppose if I’d spent eight hours a day in a factory in service to my country, I’d want people to at the very least know about it.
I started following this guy’s blog this week:
His entry yesterday is another story about a Native American school most have forgotten. Yet important, I think. The students who attended there in 1830 might be happy to be remembered.
Because if we don’t remember, it’s just all blowin’ in the wind. Get it? Peter, Paul and Mary/Blowin’ In the Wind? Yes, I’m corny.
Happy Record Store Day! Make your kids listen to your stories.