It broke my heart to see it go, but it was obsolete.
A piece of my past. Something I was saving to give to my
kids kid some day.
I wouldn’t exactly call myself a hoarder – my mom would disagree. Recently we moved my husband from a basement office to a first floor room, my mom said, “Oh great, now you have another room to fill with junk.”
I have no idea what she’s talking about. Record albums – “Big CD’s” the boy calls them. VHS tapes – I still have a player, so they’re all good, right? And those precious cassettes. What? You say they don’t even want them at Popping Tags? (That would be Goodwill to you.)
The deconstructionist wants to play with them. “By play with them, what do you mean?” I ask.
Him: “You know mom, take them apart!”
Me: “What?! No! I want to save these for you someday.”
Him: “Do we have something you can play them in?”
Me, as I start digging through the cassettes like they were priceless jewels: “Of course we do.”
I hate to admit it, but I have all of these tapes on CD or in my iTunes, at least all of the ones that are any good.
It hurts, but I hand over the tapes. I can’t look.
He is the deconstructionist. The glee he feels in taking things apart makes it all OK. Kind of.
RIP Cassette Tapes.
You were here for only a short while, those of us who knew you will miss you. MixTapes will never be the same.
I saved all the Steely Dan.