No habitat

I was just thinking the other day about how much I miss record shops. I used to work in a grocery store and I would get tips from old ladies and suburbanites because we had a service where you could pull up to the curb and have your groceries loaded into your car (but that can be an entirely different story). Every week, I would save up all of my tips and go to the record store to peruse the aisles. Since they have been declining steadily in sales around the country, there are fewer places to visit and the joy of the mom and pop record store is rapidly becoming a faded memory.

I think that everyone has their own store. Mine was My Generation on the west side of Cleveland. It closed its doors four years ago after staying in business for two decades. A part of me died. Now I go to Borders and sometimes see other My Generation regulars, thumbing through the new releases, leaving empty handed.

We are like deer without habitat.