Where This Meets That
Last weekend, we began cleaning out our basement to prepare it for conversion into a bedroom for my oldest son and an office for me.
If you’re like me, any time you start such a project, you’re in for an adventure, bound to uncover neat things long forgotten.
As I rolled up my sleeves and dug into a basement closet full of memories, I found old photos and concert ticket stubs, old adapter cords I’d cursingly not found during past searches, and a box of all my old LP records.
The box of LPs alone was a walk down amnesia lane, full of albums I’d forgotten about and that will probably make it into posts of their own in the near future.
But the oddest find was a 45 record single from an artist you’ve never heard of, named Vic Thompkins.
The find was odd because of its timing. Back in the mid-1980’s, Vic was an aspiring singer and a mutual acquaintance of my sister Shan and a guy she had just met at work, named Brian. Vic performed at our local high school one evening and gave Shan and Brian something to do for perhaps their first date together. Shan, knowing my love for music, invited me to tag along, and afterwards, Vic gave me this record.
Time rolled forward. Shan and Brian dated, married, brought three daughters into the world, and watched them grow. Then, this Wednesday night, after 25 years of marriage to my sister, and mere days after I unearthed this record and these memories from the bottom of a basement closet, Brian died.
Being a writer, I tend to see a literary hand behind the script of life, complete with symbolism, foreshadowing, and, at times, amazing symmetry revealed in life’s surprises. Thinking about this now, I can’t ignore the sense of irony that a record album could symbolize life coming full circle.
Click here to see Brian’s obituary and funeral announcement.