On Veterans Day, I want to thank our veterans for their service and sacrifice. I never served in the Armed Forces, but many of my friends have, and they have my utmost respect. My father served in the Navy and when his enlistment ended, he came home and married my mother. It was just before Vietnam escalated, and he once told me that if he had stayed in the Navy, he would have volunteered for the patrol boats that ran the Vietnamese rivers. Whenever I think about that, I'm reminded of how dangerous, confusing, and difficult that war (or all wars for that matter) must be for the men and women who serve.
Whether we support a particular military action or not, we should always support the brave people who are asked to carry out those orders. Today, I pray for the safety of all those currently serving, remember those who never made it home, and thank every veteran who answered the call. Happy Veterans Day, and thank you for your service.
I spent part of the weekend looking for a fitting song for Veteran's Day and discovered, once again, that my record room remains an archaeological dig site disguised as a collection. Somewhere beneath the layers of vinyl, questionable filing decisions, and good intentions was undoubtedly the perfect record. Unfortunately, the best thing I found was something I'd already posted. To be fair, repeating myself is one of the few hobbies I haven't outgrown.
So instead of repeating myself, I'm going deep into the album cuts with the Verlaines.
Back in the day, anything on Flying Nun Records was enough to loosen my grip on whatever money happened to be in my wallet. I lucked into this LP during one of those magical record-store liquidation sales in Denver. The place was going out of business, and boxes of albums were stacked everywhere at prices that now seem like a fever dream. I carried home armloads of records, including this one, feeling like I had somehow beaten the system.
Of course, what I really beat was my future self.
If I had a time machine, I wouldn't use it to alter history, prevent disasters, or buy stock in Apple. I'd go straight back to that Denver record store with cash stuffed in every pocket and buy every last box in sight. It's not a noble use of time travel, but at least I'm honest about it. History would remain unchanged, but my record shelves would be magnificent.
Until someone invents a time machine, though, I'll settle for this beautifully melancholy song from the Verlaines. Some records don't just remind you of the past. They remind you of the opportunities (stacks of Songs the Cramps Taught Us series) you left sitting in a cardboard box with a $1 price tag.
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