Love Language
Love Among the Record Albums
When Uncle Jack gave us his record collection, I didn’t know there would be a part 2
It is twilight, and I am sitting on the back porch, determined to go through the mail that keeps piling up. I have no classes to teach this evening and have finished preparing my lessons for tomorrow. I fix a glass of tea, more mint than tea, and begin the task.
At first they are mostly advertisements disguised as letters; then a postcard drops out. It is from Uncle Jack. He has been in Taihape in New Zealand. The front is a photo from the gardens at Titoki. I make a mental note to explore that further, but know at this point Jack is long gone from New Zealand.
The postcard looks like it traveled in his back pocket for days before it traveled the world and simply said: “Are you listening to the records? Remember James’s middle name? Love, Uncle J.” I stopped breathing for a moment and then sucked in air — clearly, this was a clue.
I walked into the house, locked all the doors, and walked up the stairs. Charles, Charles was his middle name. I said it out loud over and over. I started thumbing through the albums he left us. Bands that begin with “C”, I thought. How had we not listened to those albums before?
