Original release date: September 1970 (Cotillion Records)
Th-th-thanks
I never raised my hand in class because, in public, I stutter when I try to talk. Answering a simple three digit math problem would turn into a recitation of a phone number. “Sev-sev-seven, seven, four, fo-fo-seven, fo-forty, eight.” Privately I have a good sense of humor about it. I just don’t want to talk in public. Someday I’ll get over it. But today it’s embarrassing.
When I’d go into the record store, though, it was different. Especially if Hank was working. Henry, that’s what his nametag said, would talk about and know everything about every album or every band. Hendrix originally wanted Stephen Still to be the bass player for The Experience. Bob Dylan’s real name was Robert Allen Zimmerman. Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band took over 700 hours in the studio to record, while Kurt Cobain’s vocals on In Utero were recorded in 6 hours. I’d go in there to talk to him even when I knew I didn’t want to but anything.
That’s where I spent most of the summer. I was at the record store. I figured out Hank’s hours and showed up only during those times. I remember the first time I bought from his recommendation. It seems like it was just yesterday. Well, it was really at the end of last school year.
“This one’s great. ‘Sweet Jane,’ ‘Rock & Roll,’ and ‘Head Held High.’ But my favorite is ‘Cool It Down.’” The he quoted a price and I paid him. “Don't be a stranger.”
“Oak-oh-oh-oak, okay. Th-th-thanks.”
We’d talk about what new albums were coming out, what we liked to listen to, about why the bands he loved were so great, about the great musicians at every instrument. I felt comfortable talking to Hank about music. And he didn’t seem to mind that I came in all the time.
If it took courage for me to go in there and talk everyday, then I got a badge of honor for what I did one day. I asked Hank if he wanted to come over to my place and listen to some records after work. I knew he got off at 5:00. We could, I don’t know, maybe get a bite to eat and then just, you know, listen to some music on my stereo. I didn’t even realize what I was saying. I couldn’t believe what I’d just done. I was so stupid for even thinking it. But when I was with Hank I didn’t think much. I just seemed to babble, almost naturally.
I actually asked him if he wanted to do something other than talk to me at his work. And he accepted. I couldn’t believe it.
I hung out at the record store for a little more than an hour, then it was 5:00. He was let off work and we left. He walked down the street to a little diner. We took two seats at the counter. The waitress gave us menus and took our drink orders. I loved the milk shakes there because they were really thick. When I ordered I didn’t stutter. I was in public and I was stammering. I wasn’t fowling things up.
For the first time we talked about something other than music. It started with a conversation about school. He was indifferent to it. I didn’t like it. We talked about our homes. He lived in a house with his whole family. I lived in an apartment. I told him that when we got there my mom wouldn’t be home but my dad would.
He talked about how he can’t wait until he can get his driver’s license. He has his temps right now. When his brother just got his license he drove around all the time. He could just leave and drive away. He’d always come back but he got to leave for a little while. Hank told me about one time when his brother took him with him. They went to a river out in the country. It was in the woods. They parked the car and walked to the little river. They sat there on these big rocks and threw pebbles into the stream. They talked about how someday things would be different. They could sit by a river any time they wanted to. They wouldn’t have to ask for nothing. And they wouldn’t get turned down for nothing. That’s why he worked at the record store. He was saving money to get a jump on things. He wanted to get a car when he got his license and, when he graduated, he was going to leave.
We started walking back to my apartment. I was thinking about how I could put on Loaded and play “Rock & Roll.” That song said it all. Well, almost said it all. I’d have to play “I Found a Reason” to cover the rest.
“There’s my little buttercup, baby.” He stood up quickly and nervously. I hated when my dad did this. I could smell it in the house. The shades were drawn. The TV was the only light that you could see. Dad’s eyes were half closed and he had that foolish grin on his face.
“Who’s the little buckaroo you brought home with you.” Then he started laughing. He was trying to be funny, but he was the only one laughing. “That rhymes,” he screeched as he fell onto the couch. He didn’t stop laughing.
I introduced Hank. Then I put away the bottle of Jim Beam that dad was using as a chaser and put the bag of his stuff away in his drawer. Hank was just smiling. He wasn’t talking. Just smiling. I had to go to the bathroom and excused myself.
When I came back my dad was yelling at Hank. “You don’t know what music is. I mean, you listen to that crap she listens to. I know you’re type. You don’t give a fuck for the classics. It’s the classics that mean something, you little… I mean, man, you know. Sinatra could sing. He could sing. Led Zeppelin just plays loud. That’s all they can do. I mean, I can be loud, man. Listen.” He started screaming. Nothing coming out of his mouth was comprehendible. Noises. Noises. More noises.
Then he leaned back and stared at the ceiling. He started babbling. I couldn’t make out much. His head kept swaying as he gabbed.
I looked at Hank. He wasn’t watching my dad anymore. He was looking all around the room at the mess. Dad never cleaned anything. If I weren’t around his body would just rot with everything else in the house.
Dad started talking about mom. She was a great woman, he’d say. And he loved her. He almost loved her more than anything. She meant the world to him. But it just wasn’t fair, he’d say. Life just ain’t fair and we all got to find out own ways of dealing with that fact. Everyone’s got their won little way of dealing with that, he’d say.
I ended up lying on my bed, crying. I had my head drenched in my pillow. How could my dad do that? How could he always seem to ruin things. If only mom hadn’t left us. I don’t blame her, though. Ever since she left, dad’s been a big disappointment to me. I guess he must always have been one to mom too. I put Loaded on the record player anyway. The crackling of the needle scraping across the black disc was all I could hear until the first song came on. “Who Loves the Sun.” I turned my pillow over in search of a dry part.
I’ve only been back to the record store once. I wanted to buy a blank tape so I could copy a John Lennon album from the library. I still remember going up to the counter and paying for it like it was yesterday. Well, it was really just an hour ago.
“Hey, I haven’t seen you in a while. You been keeping yourself busy?” He rang up the price and I paid. “Don’t be a stranger.”
“Oak-oh-oh-oak, okay. Th-th-thanks. Bye.”
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I enjoyed reading that
Posted by: Mathew | 23 September 2009 at 04:30 AM