I wish this could be a post about the beauties of life. Instead, it’s about my Sunday morning bike ride around my neighborhood, outside the gated community which contains my home. Florida is full of gated communities. Not sure why…to keep people out or to keep people in? It’s a fair question.
Exiting, I rode down the public street, on the sidewalk, past other gated communities. On my left, I spied a record. An album. Vinyl. Whole, untouched, cast into the grass between the road and the sidewalk. Soon came the sleeve, and then the cover. Then, another and another. I rode on , thinking what might have unfolded. But it was early, and I was intent on exercise.
Later, I rode back and found the street still festooned with records. Vinyl records. 33 1/2 rpm, unscratched and pristine, so I gathered them up. They could have blown off a moving truck, I thought, but out of the sleeves? And the covers? My mind went wild. An affair gone sour? An attempt at a new life? A musical reckoning?
There were also bottles and cans that I felt sure were clues. After arriving home and obtaining a bag, I returned to collect all the evidence. Miller Light, two cans of Red Bull and a big can of hard cider. Redd’s Wicked Apple Refreshingly Hard Ale. Not exactly a high to be proud of. But it might have worked if you needed to pitch your past.
I traced the records, sleeves and covers to a nearby apartment complex. My detection senses awoke. Clues, I thought. It was not the end of the month when evictions rule, but clearly someone thought it was a time to get rid of irrelevant stuff .
The albums were: Sweet Freedom by Uriah Heep, Elton John’s Victim of Love, Supertramp’s Famous Last Words and the Edgar Winter Group’s Shock Treatment. These are not hit albums. But they might have been important to the thrower. Say around the the late 70ties and 80ties.
Suppose that person wanted to start anew? Throw out old vinyls and move on. A Victim of Love who is now enjoying Sweet Freedom? At least, that’s what I think.