A Sticky Situation

I really like the listening station at Zzz Records. If you're curious about a used record, you can use their turntable and headphones to give it a spin. While I was previewing Survival by Grand Funk Railroad, I looked up and spotted this record in the return bin.

I'd like to thank whoever listened to this record and decided not to buy it. The Halloween masks first caught my attention, but Marvin's groove was what made me take it home. The record did have its share of pops and snaps, though. 

I had hoped that cleaning the record with my old Discwasher brush would help.

The brush does a nice job removing surface dust and dirt, but it doesn't get very deep into the groove. Sadly, the crackle on this record was getting hard to ignore. That was frustrating because the songs were really growing on me. Rather than toss this LP, I tried an experiment. I cleaned the record with wood glue. 

I've read posts and watched YouTube videos about this process, and it seemed pretty simple. The idea is to cover the vinyl's surface with a heavy layer of wood glue, let the glue seep into the record's groove, and then peel the glue off after it had hardened. Allegedly, the dried glue can remove dirt and debris that a brush cleaner cannot. I figured it was worth a shot.

After practicing a couple of times with a junk record, I cleaned Marvin Holmes and the Uptights (love that name). I would have given the record's condition a 5 out 10 before the glue cleaning, and an 8 out of 10 afterwards. Scratches can't be cleaned away, and you will always hear them. Until I find a better copy, I can live with that. 

Disclaimer: Try this on your own records at your own risk. I have no idea if this process is damaging the record is some way. 

Here's what the process looks like on a 50 cent LP (the cost, not the rapper). This record looked interesting, but it was filthy.

Even the inside of the cover had a layer of dirt on it.

According to the Dusty Groove blog, "The Purpose were produced by the legendary Tom Wilson when he launched his Raputin Productions in 1968... but this group somehow was lost in the shuffle, an obscure funky rockin’ bluesy combo, with an integrated lineup, and instrumentation that includes organ, guitar, bass, and drums. The tracks are all originals, with a funky feel to them, and some good grooves on the best tracks.The lead singer's in kind of an Eric Burdon mode, but on the groovers, this comes off as sort of a mod soul/beat group sound, which gives the cuts a great A-Go-Go beat."

Sounds like this record is worth saving. 

I like Gorilla Wood Glue. I doubt the brand of glue matters. (I tried Elmer's, and that was a bit trickier to peel off.) You can see here that I don't have enough glue on the outside edge of the record. I had to squirt on a second application out there.

An old, plastic gift card helped me smooth out the glue. Then I used my finger to smear glue where it needed to go. This isn't a cake; it doesn't have to look pretty.

Wood glue dries clear, so it gives you an idea when it is ready. This is after one hour:

Three hours later:

I think it's best to let this much glue dry overnight, so here it is the next morning:

I used the same gift card to lift a little lip of the glue. Angle the card up away from the record's surface; don't dig into the vinyl.

Once there is enough for your fingers to grab, the glue peels off pretty easily. You can first run the gift card all around the ouside edge to loosen it if you want.

Gross! Record molting.

I cleaned the surface again with my record brush.

Did it work? Yep. The first song, "Dustcracks, Bugs and Roaches", was so dirty I didn't know The Purpose were using an echo effect. Now I can hear it. 

Is it perfect? Nope. A dirty record is probably a scratchy record, and I can't do anything about those scratches. 

Takeaways:

• Only use WOOD glue. I like the Gorilla Glue brand.

• Bring the layer of glue all the way to the outside edge, the dirtiest spot on the record.

• If you splatter glue on the inside "dead space" of the record (near the middle), wipe it off. Those little spots of glue are hard to pick off when they are dry. If they dry across the groove, then they will make a pop louder than dirt.

• I wouldn't do this to a valuable record or one that is only slightly dirty.

• There are better and much more expensive ways to clean a LP, but this way is cheap and fun.

• Saving a fifty-year-old record from the recycling bin feels good.

• No matter how dirty they are, don't put glue on your Dad's Beatles records.

My Pendulum Swings Again

I have a lot of hobbies, but they don't consume all of my time. I tend to swing from one hobby to another. All I was thinking about three years ago was my VW Beetle. Last year I was knee deep in pinball repair, and the Bug was all but forgotten. Does that mean I should sell my car? Heck, no. I'll come back around to car repair. I'll just need something to spark my VW interest again.

For example, I wasn't aware of this, but I had begun to get tired of fixing pinball machines. I finished a restoration in July, and didn't even blog about my "new" Zig Zag machine. I guess I didn't want to think about pinball anymore.

That's when my hobby pendulum changed directions.

The spark was a birthday present. Daphne gave me a three-month subscription to Vinyl Me, Please, a record-of-the-month club. As soon as I dropped the needle and heard that funky bass line on July's record, a re-release of 1973's Betty Davis, I was hooked.

It wasn't long before I was digging through my old collection of LPs searching for something else to play. That's how I rediscovered my vinyl collection. I had forgotten how much I liked playing records. 

My first LP purchase was the soundtrack to the 1983 movie Christine (George Thorogood and slew of 50s classics on that), and I bought quite a few records during the rest of the 80s. I switched to CDs in the 90s, but I still enjoyed buying records at thrift stores and Half Price Books as an adult. The record shopping stopped when Charlotte was born. It wasn't a conscience decision; I just didn't have time for new music anymore. 

I have learned a couple of things since then.

1) After looking through my record collection, I have discovered that a lot of the music that I was buying in high school and college was total junk didn't age well. 

2) Records have become a hot commodity. You can forget about going to Goodwill and finding anything except Eddy Arnold or Ray Conniff. That bone has been picked clean. That doesn't matter, though. There are record stores in town that have quality, used records. You can even buy new vinyl recordings.  It is unreal to think that I can walk into Barnes & Nobel and walk out with a brand-new record by The Replacements. I feel like I'm riding in the time machine with Marty McFly. 

But that trip in the DeLorean isn't free. These new records are luxury items that cost anywhere between $20 and $50. I can't be making impulse buys for that kind of money, so I started doing some research. I have read Vinyl Me, Please: 100 Albums You Need in Your Collection, and I'm two thirds through 1001 Albums You Need to Hear Before You Die. 

1001 Albums begins in 1955 with Frank Sinatra's In the Wee Small Hours and ends in 2005 with the White Stripes' Get Behind Me Satan. Both books are intelligently written and insightful. YouTube is also great resource. Not sure if you're up to the challenge of listening to Captain Beefheart? Search "Trout Mask Replica full album" and find out. (I wasn't ready for the Captain, but I have listened to more than 30 artists that I didn't know existed. )

For the last four weeks, I have been playing pinball, surfing YouTube, and listening to music in my basement. My hand tools have been asleep in their toolbox beds, and I haven't watched a movie on DVD or Blu-ray this month. The Beetle has been consoling the pinball machine project in the garage, There, there. Don't take it personal. He'll work on you again. I promise.

It's true. Like Arnold, I'll be back. But for right now, I have to go back downstairs to listen to Marvin Holmes & the Uptights. 

I'll write about this record soon.

Try Not to Smile

Here's the only picture I took last weekend. 

It's of Charlotte at the Beaverdale Fall Festival last Saturday. Exactly one minute later it began to bucket down rain with lightning and thunder to boot. 

It was a bit past 2:00, and we had been there since 10:00, so I was really happy to see the rain. Don't tell Charlotte, though. I pretended to be sad. 

Photographs and Memories

Daphne's Grandpa Howard lost his wife, Patty, and his daughter, Deb (Daphne's mom), to cancer four years ago, and since then we have tried to do a better job of visiting him. Daphne was concerned that he would need a lot of support. But Howard didn't give up and curl into a ball like some of us feared. Instead, he discovered that he liked to cook and bake, he found a friend who took him to new restaurants and events, and he did a great job of making sure that he sent everyone in the family birthday and Christmas cards.

Like a lot of people with hearing aids, Howard is a loud taker. The last time he called Daphne, I could hear him from across the room, "Daphne! This is Grandpa Howard, and I am in trouble!"

"You are? What kind of trouble, Grandpa?"

"Well, I have these two birthday cards that I want to mail, but I can't read the darn address to your house anymore! What is it?"

She's too young to know it, but Charlotte is a lucky kid. How many grandchildren can say they know their Great-Grandfather and that he's a good tickler? Charlotte knows his house inside and out, and when we visit him, she can see pictures of herself all over his place. I'm not bragging, and Charlotte isn't his favorite grandchild. Howard simply puts up the pictures that people send him, and Daphne keeps him pretty close in our loop. Over the years I have gotten to know him better than my own grandparents.

On September 6, four days after his 87th birthday, Howard passed away. He had been hospitalized over the Memorial Day weekend for a stroke, and the stroke took its toll a few nights later. After our initial shock, Daphne and I began to wonder how Charlotte would take the news.

We shouldn't have worried. When Daphne explained that Grandpa Howard had died, Charlotte immediately replied, "I bet Grandma Deb was so happy to see her dad that she started crying!"

We are sure she is right. Just typing Charlotte's response makes me cry.

Howard's funeral was Monday, and Daphne gave the eulogy. She did an excellent job, but it wasn't easy. Then again, when has anything funeral-related been easy?

Charlotte appeared eight times in the memory displays at the funeral home.

On the far right you can see a framed photo of Jill, Howard's dog. Jill was a farm dog that only slept in the house during extreme weather. I love the fact that Grandpa cleaned all the farm off of her, hired a professional photographer to take her picture, and then had the photo framed.

When Howard would talk to me about her, he'd touch his finger on the head in the photograph and end his story with, "She was such a good dog..." and his eyes would slightly well.

Look at Jill's smile. You just know that Howard is standing behind the photographer.

Howard was a carpenter by trade and hobby, and he made this violin. He couldn't play it. He just wanted to see if he could make one.

Truthfully, he could make anything out of wood that you asked him to make. There is so much furniture in our house, including our sleigh bed, that is stamped "Hand Crafted by Howard Cudworth".

Howard even made his own casket. It has been waiting for him under wraps in the garage for about a decade. Why make your own casket? "Well, my ancestors had to make their own casket if they wanted to be buried in one. So, I figured I could make mine, too," he explained.

Howard had several conversations at the funeral home to make sure he made his casket to the right dimensions. About a year ago he gave the funeral home a key to his house, access to the garage opener, and permission to handle his casket. He didn't want his family getting hurt bringing the heavy casket down from the rafters. He was a man who paid attention to the details - just like the one he carved into the casket's side.

Howard served in the Air Force during the Korean Conflict, so there was a military service at the burial. The gunshots may have scared Charlotte, but I was very impressed with their presentation.

We had a lunch downtown at Appanoose Rapids after the burial. Then it was time to head over to Howard's house to see if there were any items that the family wanted before the Salvation Army truck arrived.

Like speaking at the funeral, entering a house that was a loved one's home isn't easy. I know Howard couldn't take this stuff with him, and I know he'd be glad to share what he didn't need anymore. I still felt like a petty thief when I opened a drawer to see what was inside. I wasn't alone. Most of the family spoke in hushed tones as they quietly and politely made the rounds through the small rooms.

As I said, Char knows Grandpa's house very well, and she only wanted one thing. I'd make you guess, but I doubt you'd get it right. I wouldn't guess it, and she's my kid.

Charlotte wanted his small cactus. Why? She liked seeing how much it had grown between our visits, and she wanted to keep growing it for Grandpa. No one told her no.

Char's other prizes from Grandpa include the binoculars he showed her how to use, the flashlight she shined jokingly in his face, and a toy set of china that she used to serve him tea. Daphne played with those same cups and dishes when she was a child. Char was also given the mini china cabinet that her great uncle Dave made back in high school. (The cabinet isn't crooked; the picture is.)

Daphne now has some of Grandmother Patty's cookbooks, baking pans, and two of the last quilts Patty made. I have the pocketknife that Howard kept in his garage, a few of his tools, and one other thing...

Yes, I kept that picture of Jill. I know that seems weird, but no one else wanted the picture, and I couldn't stand the thought of it being thrown into the trash.

I'm not a philosopher or a theologian. But I know a life isn't defined by the weight of what you have accumulated or how much money you were worth. So how is a life measured? I'm not sure. To paraphrase Mahatma Gandhi, you can judge a person by how they treat their animals. 

If that is true, then the picture of Jill is all that Charlotte really needs to know about her Great-Grandpa Howard.

Luckily, we have pictures like these, too.

We're going to miss you, Howard. You were a great Grandpa to all of us. 

Two Thumbs-Up for a Hand-Me-Down

Charlotte surprised me on Saturday by wearing a vintage t-shirt.

I drew the "Hot Shot" car design when I was in second grade. Our art teacher helped us make our drawings into iron-on transfers. I think the project used crayons and wax paper. Since I was obsessed with all things with motors and wheels, I was pretty proud of my shirt. Like most of 2nd grade, "Hot Shot" was eventually outgrown and forgotten. 

In 2009 I was helping my mom organize her storage unit, and I was amazed to find "Hot Shot" wedged between two cardboard boxes. How did this shirt survive the tides of time? The white fabric was crunchy stiff and stained a rusty yellow, but I felt that it deserved to be taken home.

Daphne assured me that she could save my old shirt. A two-day long soak in OxiClean removed the stains, and a run through the washing machine made it soft again. Daph then tucked the shirt away somewhere, and once again, I forgot all about it until last weekend.

When we got home from the farmers' market, Charlotte took off her hoodie, and I realized what she was wearing underneath. "Hey! I know that shirt!"

Char ran over to me, gave me a tight hug, and declared, "It's the shirt you made when you were my age!"

"That's right! I did draw that. Do you really like it?"

It is over 40 years later, and that shirt is still making people smile. That is pretty awesome.

Random link

It Only Took Me 37 Years

My mom gave Charlotte a 2x2 Rubik's Cube for her birthday.

Char enjoyed mixing up the cube, but when she couldn't solve it after 30 seconds, she handed it to me and said, "Here Dad, you do it."

"Me? What am I going to do with it?"

Just like the rest of the world's population, I had a Rubik's Cube in 1980. Seriously, those cubes were everywhere. Even the stores in a small town like Rock Valley sold them. The teachers in my school were always yelling at kids to put them away. I guess Rubik's Cubes were the fidget spinners of the 80s. At best, I could get one one color on one side to line up. I even bought The Simple Solution to Rubik's Cube to help me out. (FYI: This was 1981's best selling book with 6, 680,000 copies sold.) 

What a disappointment. I found the book's algorithms to be as confusing as the cube itself. All I learned was how to take my cube apart and put it back together in the right order. 

So, yeah, I solved my cube using a screwdriver, but that wasn't a very fulfilling solution. Since then, just looking at a Rubik's Cube has made me feel a small twang of defeat. 

Anyway, I didn't think the screwdriver solution was right for Char's cube. So, I followed my daughter's advice, "Just look it up on the internet, Dad."

Now there are all kinds of websites and YouTube videos dedicated to solving a Rubik's Cube. I found the "You Can Do the Cube" site the most helpful for me. After learning the vocabulary, and how their solution worked, it was pretty easy. Twenty minutes later, Char's 2x2 cube had all the colors in the right places, and you know what? Solving it was fun. Char likes to mix the cube up, and I like to solve it, so we're a pretty good team.

Years ago I bought a 3x3 Rubik's Cube at Goodwill, and last weekend I tried my hand at solving that bad boy.

Drum roll, please... 

Ta Daa!

Whew. I finally got that Rubik's monkey off my back. Thanks go out to Grandma, Charlotte, and the World Wide Web. 

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