There is a beautifully dark and musty little shop in Lexington, KY called Pop's Resale. It is filled with video games, vinyl, and everything vintage. Like many other purveyors of "previously loved records", the walls are lined with Herb Alpert's most famous album cover. The employees know entirely too much about everything having to do with popular media, past and present, and are willing to wax...well, wax for hours on end! I love everything about the place, and it all reminds me of my father.
My dad, known affectionately to his grandson as Pops (a name I gave him as a teenager), is an avid music collector. Of course he passed this expensive hobby down to me, which is why I frequent fine establishments such as Pop's. Like my friend Tyler aka The Vinyl Vulture, my dad is able to pass the time showing off rare tunes that he has collected, another habit I have been found guilty of. I won't go as far as to say that the smell of the place reminds me of my dad, but the first time I ever laid eyes on a whipped cream covered girl was my father's own personal copy of the Tijuana Brass classic.
The reason for this compilation of comparisons is to make one more. Like he music that fills the bins at Pop's, my pops has always been there for me, sympathizing with my plight, and sharing words of wisdom.
Thanks dad! Happy birthday!
