Saturday we celebrated Record Store Day, by buying 7 CDs between the two of us. It felt very nostalgic. But honestly I just threw away a big shopping bag full of CDs that are on my iPod or I didn’t want anymore. Sure I understand the ecological and financial ramifications of just chucking them, but they did not compare to the public humiliation of turning in Shania Twain, Ricki Martin etc. I think I had some good ones in there too, but I was in a cleansing phase. They were just taking up my personal space. Once it’s on the iPod, who needs its clear plastic carcass anymore? I know, record store people need them. And by record store people I mean the rare breed that showed up to Euclid Records to hear the Bottle Rockets play. The people that are now bringing their kids to the shows, but still wearing those gas station attendant type shirts that I’m not sure are cool now even if you’re not a dad. I saw a woman holding a little girl, the mom’s tee shirt said something like beer.babies.bands. Seriously. Give up the ghost lady and buy a volvo.

I bought Uncle Tupelo, Spoon and 10,000 maniacs. That 10,000 maniacs CD was the soundtrack of my high school Close Up trip to Washington DC. Close Up was a group of kids from all around the country who had political aspirations and were interested in government and leadership. And no, this wasn’t like how I went on the prolife trip to DC when I was in high school just so I could see the city. You know my temperament – I take it in, take it in, stay calm and then freak out for about 45 seconds and then I’m over it. Just need to let it out. So 20 plus hours on a bus with these prolife freaks – some, many who were my friends - was almost enough to push me over the edge. I may have told this story before. I remember we stopped at a Dunkin Donuts and a girl curled her hair or possibly crimped it – it was the 80s. She was trying to impress these bible thumping boys and I was just trying to keep my mouth shut for the next day or so until I had the white house and all those glorious monuments in sight. Well that didn’t really last long. (surprising, I know) When we got to DC and the chants began “kill mothers who kill babies” I ceased having the clarity of mind to keep my yap shut – instinct took over and I was outted as a prochoicer who happened to not believe in the death penalty, which I felt meant that I was in a sense in a vague way prolife too. It’s not that I don’t even really believe in the death penalty, just that the system can be extremely flawed. So here I am. In a sea of seriously batty people carrying baby sized coffins. For real.

I found one friend from my school who was on another bus. He couldn’t have cared less about why we were there, he just wanted to get out of small town America for 48 hours. So we ran around and tried to see how many different times we could get on TV and pretended we were from other states, walking by their flag carriers. When the crazies were finished with their parade and it was time to get back on the bus I had not seen Oliver North, which was on my list of things to do, but worse than that they wouldn’t let me ride with my friend. Literally the only person still speaking to me. Even the teachers...ok, they were mostly nuns and priests and those nerdy people who dress like nuns. (I can say that – my oldest sister used to be one of them. She sort of learned her fashion lesson the hard way when she was mistaken for a nun at her son’s confirmation mass.) Apparently those who are supposed to be all “turn the other cheek” were all about teaching me a life lesson. And remember this is the time before cellphones and text messaging, facebook and other ways to escape. Just me, a bus load of highly pissed off people and a stop at Dunkin Donuts.

So, in Euclid Records I’m fondly remembering my other trip to DC. It was a very educational and meaningful experience. From attending lectures in the historic government buildings where presidents had walked, to visiting Arlington Cemetery and finding ourselves aspiring to attend William & Mary as we toured its campus and colonial Williamsburg.

The 10,000 maniacs CD was cheaper than iTunes and it was Record Store day...meant to be purchased. This was the soundtrack! When we visited the Vietnam Wall, which I think was pretty new at the time, I remember listening to that cassette on my sony walkman – the yellow hard case that was waterproof....the walkman sport. (Oh it was cool) Those songs are embedded in my brain. I get in the car on Monday, pop in the CD and am ready to be transported back to this life changing experience. Instead, I’m about suicidal before I even get out of Soulard. That CD is terrible! Sure I still know almost every word, but had I ever listened to them? I mean I know I listened to them, but did I just not process it? Or was I so wrapped up in teenage angst that songs about poison in the well, babies dying, a church being set on fire – these were the songs I happily sang along too? Sure the war song made sense with the visit to the Wall, but for the love was I just ridiculously depressive or desensitized to the whole thing? Sure it was when I was in my young republican, anti-apartheid, going to run for office and save the world phase, but how could I stomach those terrible lyrics? Damn you 10,000 maniacs for your melodic melancholy! I still have those tunes in my head and Natalie Merchant’s voice is so fun to sing harmony with – but as an adult I cannot process those words without possibly needing therapy. It’s sort of like those catchy rap-tastic songs you find yourself singing along to and then realize it sounds like you’re auditioning for a porno.