My parents separated when I was 7. So my little brother and I would trade holidays back and forth between them.
When I woke up on Christmas morning of 1985 on my Dad’s hide-a-bed couch in the living room, I rushed to the tree to see what he Santa had brought us. He brought us a Nintendo (which was cooler than cool back then) but even better for me he brought a brand spanking new Walkman!!!
If you are too young to remember what a Walkman is, then lemme explain. *sigh*
Back in the dinosaur days, before portable CD players, or iPods, or iPhones we had the beautiful creation that was the Walkman. The Walkman played “Tapes”. (Another dinosaur days invention.) This was big a deal back in the “olden” days because it meant that we could walk around with our Walkman and listen to our favorite tape with the cool headphones that were included.
Well I had wanted one of these awesome cool new inventions, but because of the expense didn’t hold out hope that I would get one. But there under the tree was the most beautiful black Walkman I had ever seen.
Growing up music was always huge in our family. Listening to James Taylor, Dan Fogelburg, Loggins and Messina, Steely Dan and I could go on for hours listing my favorites. My dad played the guitar and my mom sang. We always had music around us. And because of that my brother and I both grew to love it. I had a record player in my room when I was just 4 years old that I would listen to over and over.
So imagine my excitement when under the tree sat the gorgeous, now to be mine and only mine, Walkman!
Wrapped in red and green paper was a tiny square package next to the Walkman with a note
Inside was my first Heart Album…err tape. Dog and Butterfly. Oh that tape was played so much over and over and over again that one day it finally gave out and just snapped. The tape inside had been used far too much for me to play it anymore.
Here I sit, a couple *cough* years later and as I listen to this album on iTunes (haha) I am immediately transported to that morning sitting on my Dad’s couch, listening to Dog and Butterfly.
The good memories that I have from my childhood can make me weep just by thinking about them. I had some rough times, sure. But I had some really great times too. My parents did what they could to make sure we knew we were loved and adored. And it’s always the little things that stick out to me. Tiny tokens of love that sitting here 24 (ouch) years later, make me think, “wow, they really, really love me.”