Lament for a late stranger's record collection...

Some of my father's old records and tapes. I treasure them.

It always makes me sad when I see someone selling a record collection they inherited. I realise it’s good for me and other collectors out there and I know for the person who inherited those old records it may not be the kind of music that interests them, so maybe it's better it goes to someone who appreciates them. It's also true that record collections, especially large ones, do take up a lot of room and are a opportunity to make a little money out of something unwanted and space consuming. But, practicalities aside, those records, without a doubt, meant a lot to the person who once owned them. A well gathered record collection probably took years to find and collect, were lovingly cared for, played and enjoyed. To the person they belonged to they were much more than just pieces of plastic, those records provided a soundtrack to the good and bad times in their lives, the teenage angst, the first kiss, the wedding dance, the anniversaries, birthdays and family gatherings, as well as the tears, the sadnesses and the small incidental moments that make up our lives. As any music lover knows, a song can bring back those memories in an instant and can come to symbolise much more than just a mere pop song would suggest. I realise material possessions are ultimately meaningless but I still feel sad when I see those who inherited that lovingly complied collection sell off, with seemingly little thought, what is ultimately a little reflection of someone who is now gone.