My pal, Sal.

Meet Sal. I found him at a thrift shop looking forlorn but not without promise. He’s an 8 track recorder and am/fm receiver — and he’s also a record player.

I decided on Sal because he immediately struck me as a Sal Paradise type of player. Quiet and shy, a bit rough around the edges but altogether steady. I’ve always wanted one of these and I’ve been dying to find the model I could call Dean Moriarty–sleek, sexy, charming, reckless–at least to play all the sexy records. But that isn’t happening. Not on my wages, anyway.

But here’s reliable Sal. He now plays excellent Brahms, some Chopin (as is necessary for one to live), Tchaikovsky on the side and one renegade Jim Croce [Photographs and Memories, from whence came my two favorite songs: Operator and Time in a Bottle].

I am now broke as ever but now finally, this house feels like home.

2 thoughts on “My pal, Sal.

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