Spin It

Hello. It’s me. That old binder of CDs you still have.

But why? Why do you keep me around?

Maybe at first, it made sense. After all, there was that transitional time, when digital music was in its infancy, but you still listened to CDs.

Then, for a period, it was nostalgia. Just seeing page after page of CDs brought back memories. You recalled long walks with a Discman as your only companion, mixes for new friends or potential significant others, and sing-alongs on long road trips.

But the nostalgia has faded, hasn’t it? And you continue to grow older. You occasionally do a purge, discarding or donating clothing, furniture, and various tchotchkes, whether in anticipation of a move or just in avoidance of becoming a hoarder in old age.

Yet still, I persist.

So, why? The answer is quite simple, though nonetheless difficult to admit.

You miss me.

And not just the aforementioned memories I call to mind. You miss the mechanism. It’s the audio equivalent of leaving your streaming services at home when you stay in a hotel, giving yourself over to whatever happens to be on. Or of eschewing the Kindle Store in favor of a paperback from the dusty little used bookstore near your vacation rental.

There’s a joy, isn’t there, of having fewer than the sum total of all options. Of choosing the perfect soundtrack for the moment despite having a limited selection. Of building the ideal vibe by putting together a playlist that can fit within the limited confines of a CD-R. Of choosing what to play next without tapping a touch screen or calling on a digital assistant.

But here’s the thing: you don’t have to miss me. We can be together again whenever you please, with this Oakcastle Hifi400 Home Stereo. If you want to feel young again, you can choose whatever CD you like. When you want to stream, you can pair the bluetooth. And when you want even less control, you can turn on the radio.

In other words, it’s the best of all worlds. So buy it, if you’d like.

And when you do, come find me. I’m in the closet of your home office, under the postcards your friend from high school sent you during their summer vacation. Oh, and that marked-up essay you wrote in college. And a bunch of washed-out Polaroids.

You know, maybe you need to work just a little harder if you want to avoid being labeled a hoarder.