I have rediscovered my records, and my wife is understandably terrified. A couple of nights ago, I received a new phono cartridge that I had ordered online (call that a marriage of Seventies and Nineties technologies). For those of you who are too young to remember, a phono cartridge is the thingie that holds the needle ("stylus") which plays the record.

The first selection I sampled was David Bowie's "The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars", followed in rapid succession by a cut or two from "Led Zeppelin II". Then tonight, in a fit of nostalgia, I spun Side 1 of Emerson, Lake and Palmer's "Brain Salad Surgery". All these classics brought back many memories of evenings in the Seventies, sitting around in my Chicago dorm, trying to stay warm during my first winter there.

Karen has tried on several occasions to persuade me to rid myself of these albums. She believes that eBay provides a clever and convenient alternative to having them anchor the bottom shelves of our upstairs bookcases. But I believe that these carefully crafted platters of vinyl carry much more than music which she considers for the most part "obnoxious". I believe that "my records" (as I tenderly refer to them) are little musical vignettes of life as it was, even if some of them do have titles like "Polecat Woman".

I'm sure that as the weeks progress, I'll unearth more of these rotational treasures, and I'll try to remember to post a message whenever I hit a nerve. Perhaps I have opened a Pandora's Box. Stay tuned...