Dear Cassette of R.E.M.’s Reckoning Album,
I’ve been remembering all the times we walked home from school together with our trusted friend Sony Walkman. I can still picture that walk with such clarity. There was a stretch after you turned left at the Armory and the road dips down between a stand of trees and some apartment buildings and the air was always cool and damp, like a small, separate climate, before we had to take the brave step into the tunnel.
Out on the other side of the tunnel was all bleached white retaining wall and busy street, before the steep climb up the hill to home.
That little cool half-block, like a sweet drink of water on a hot day, has stayed with me. It would be hard for me to find it now, it would look different of course, but how many days did we just linger there for a minute, Cassette, with that most perfect music soothing all that needed soothing, before stepping into the tunnel?
Middle school, Cassette, am I right?
I don’t know if I ever told you this but I sometimes fantasized about a car pulling up alongside me on my walk home and Michael Stipe sticking his head out of the car (I don’t think he wouldn’t be driving. Who would? Maybe Peter?) and saying something like hey, we notice you are listening to our music – and you seem really cool, want to hang out with us? But he wouldn’t really have to say much, because we would get each other instantly. And I would spend the day with R.E.M. and we would all be really, really great friends.
Do you remember how I could turn you over to play the other side while I was walking?
I think “Finest Worksong” is still my favorite.
Thanks for the company,
-e.