Vintage Tuneage :: Like Fleeting Memories, Every Boat Needs an Anchor -- Even the Rocky Ones.

I caught myself mindlessly humming a tune in the shower last night after busting hump on the treadmill. And once I placed it, I smiled and thought of my eldest sister, Chris.

That's me trying to devour Chris in the upper right hand corner.

We lost Crystal Lynn almost 35 years ago. A pretty horrid affair that I'd rather not drudge up at this point. (For those of you who are morbidly curious can click over and read this angry entry written from a very angry place on a long abandoned personal blog, but don't say I didn't warn you.) She was only 17 when she died and, sadly, we were one of those families who grieved by focusing on the fact that a person died, not the fact that they had lived. To this very day, the mere mention of her name reduces my mother to tears, so she remained unspoken of. (The same with my father, actually, who had died just the year before.) We all know memories fade, the bad ones being the most stubborn, the good maddeningly elusive, and so you grab onto what you can before they fade away forever.

Somehow, I managed to come into possession of Chris's old record collection, a stack of 45s kept safe in a plastic tube that I liberated from the closet where the rest of her possessions were enshrined to remain hidden away. Memories hurt for some, folks. Anyways, every once in awhile I'd break those discs out and give 'em a spin. And subconsciously or not, I hope I was trying to anchor some memories of my sister, who, sadly, I wish I remembered better than I do. However, I am determined to keep what little is there fresh and vibrant, renewed with each spin. 

Video courtesy of Akurarising.

My sister lived. And she was awesome. And she had a fantastic taste in music. Thanks for listening.

The Hues Corporation:

 Fleming Williams, Hubert Ann Kelly, St. Clair Lee