I had them all in one big box.
I’d already gotten rid of many I thought were just OKAY but there were 99 left that I couldn’t part with.
The Elvis ones weren’t with them, they were in my Elvis trunk.

They made me happy and I sang with them.
They made me sad and I cried listening to them.
I hadn’t played any of them for years, modern technology changed all that.
They were bookmarks from all different times of my life, they held my memories.
There’s no way I could just toss them out of my life so I boxed them, labeled the box, and they were carried from place to place over the years.

We’ve moved probably more than the average person as we have gypsy souls and the box was heavy…..real heavy!

Every time we moved and it came to bringing my 33’s, my husband would moan and ever-so-gently “suggest” that maybe it was time to get rid of them.

“You’re never gonna play them again, “ he’d say.
“I know. Put the box over here,” I’d say.

The box didn’t get heavier, we got older and it became harder and harder for him to carry it around with us.

On one of our moves, it became obvious to me that it was just getting much too hard for my sweet man to handle.
He groaned and grunted as he pulled the heavy box out of the trunk and carried it to a designated spot when it would sit ’til the next move.
I felt bad, I did, but…..how could I let go of them?
They were my teenage memories.
They were part of my heart.
How could I just drop them off somewhere?
And WHERE?
Who wanted my memories?

There was a small Fish and Chips place near Fisherman’s Wharf in Monterey, minutes from where we lived.
I have a craving for Fish and Chips that never goes away, so we ate there often.
The entire inside of the restaurant was decorated with 33 1/3 album covers from years gone by.

One day while I was searching for something, I stopped and looked at my box of albums.
I really did STOP.
Just stood there for a long time having a private debate inside my head.
The common sense side was encouraging me to get rid of the box.
It made no sense to just lug it around everywhere, it was heavy and I was never, ever gonna play them again.
My soft heart was arguing for keeping them.
They’re a part of me.
They carried so many memories.
Don’t do it, hold tight to them, don’t let them go.

A shot of reality hit me like a lightning bolt and the common sense side won.
I knew what I needed to do and where I needed to do it.

I had a little conversation and apologized to my 99 friends for what I was about to do.
Oh, and I cried.
Of course I cried.
Saying good-bye is always rough for me, letting go was tough.

I pushed and dragged the box as close as I could to my car and then struggled to lift it to the front seat.
I was NOT putting my friends in the trunk for their final ride!

I was out of breath and energy so just sat behind the wheel for a few minutes before beginning the journey.
One more time my heart tried to reason with me but after lugging that weight, I was determined not to ask my husband to carry it ever again.
It made no sense and I was trying to use my brain on this one.

The five minute drive to the Wharf was like a funeral procession.

I parked and went inside and asked the man behind the counter if I could speak with someone in charge.
He looked like Gepetto, Pinocchio’s father and told me it was his restaurant and what could he get for me?

It was just before lunchtime so only a few people were sitting at tables enjoying their Fish and Chips.

I pointed to all the albums covering the walls and told him I had 99 in my car that I’d like to sell to him.
He smiled and said, “OK, let’s take a look at them.”
We walked out to my car and I told him my sad story and of course, I began to cry.

He opened the box and began to flip through my 99 friends.
He pulled a few albums from their jackets and inspected them.
He was quiet.
After a few minutes he looked at me and told me I had a great collection but he could do nothing with them.
The records themselves had obviously been played so often that the grooves were a mess and because I’d written my name all over the front of each cover, he really couldn’t use them.

I hadn’t expected that.
This was music from the 50’s & 60’s…..Buddy Holly, Bill Haley, Coasters, Dion and the Belmonts, Little Richard, 4 Seasons, Beach Boys, Everly Brothers, Neil Sedaka, Drifters, Roy Orbison, Fats Domino, Chuck Berry and many, many more.
This was like striking gold…..how could he not want them?
I broke down.
I didn’t cry…..I sobbed.
And then Gepetto didn’t know what to do.
I struggled with words in between sobs, “I can’t take them home.”
“Please, take them.”
The poor man was uncomfortable.
He wanted back inside with his Fish & Chips and away from me.
“Please,” I was begging.
I was ready to threaten to lie down in the street and let a truck roll over me if he didn’t take the albums.
“I can’t give you any money for these things, they’re worth nothing.”
They’re worth nothing?
They’re a chunk of my heart Mr Pinocchio’s dad!
“Just take them, please…..just take them.”
“OK, I’ll take them but no money, what can I give you?”
I was still sobbing.
“I’ll take an order of Clams and Fries.”
Fish and Chips are my favorite but who could eat Fish and Chips at a time like this?
I didn’t feel like so much of a traitor with Clams.

He hoisted the box from the front seat to his arms and hurried inside with them.
I sat where the box had been and cried some more.

Within minutes Gepetto was hurrying to my car with a to-go order of Clams and Fries.
He patted my shoulders, I cried some more and then the transaction was complete.

Five minutes later I was back in my driveway, eating Clams and Fries and mourning my loss.

I was sad the rest of the day and when Lobo Jones (my husband) walked in the door that evening, I blurted out my sad story and cried some more.

Well, you can guess what he felt like listening to me blubber out my story…..GUILT!
Guilt, guilt, guilt!
He knew I loved those albums and he knew I’d never on my own get rid of them.
He knew…..HE was the culprit…..the reason my heart was broken, the reason I was sobbing my story to him.
The last thing my sweet man ever wanted to do was break my heart and…..he’d done it!
But, it was over and I know about time…..for the most part it dulls things.

It didn’t happen right away but some time later we were talking about all the BOOKS I have that we lug around everytime we move.
Everyone knows how heavy books are to carry around…..about as heavy as 99 LP albums!
My darling man looked at me with great big eyes and said, “No way am I even SUGGESTING you ditch the books.
Nope, I will NOT make that mistake again.
I’ll carry those suckers around til I can’t walk anymore but I’ll NEVER even approach the subject of even considering getting rid of all your books!”

And then he had a true confession moment…..

He told me he felt so horrible when he came home to find me crying over 99 33 & 1/3’s that he went over to the Fish & Chips place the very next day to buy them all back.
He visualized how happy I’d be to see them again but, Gepetto had some bad news…..they were gone.
He hadn’t saved them.
He threw them into the dumpster and the truck hauled them away that evening!
Buddy Holly in the dumpster!!!!!
Who would do such a thing?
Pinocchio’s father, that’s who!

I never stepped foot in the little Fish & Chips place again.
How could I?
WHO could eat Fish and Chips made by a man who tosses Little Richard in the trash?
Not me!