Waiting to Rewind

We own a cassette player on Pelee Island, a record player too. It’s old school I know, but it suits our place. It suits Pelee.

While cleaning out the crawlspace of our mainland home recently, I came across our old collection of tapes housed neatly in a miniature storage chest made specifically for such a purpose. Tiny pull out drawers holding all our favourites from the 80’s and 90’s – Manteca, Pat Metheny, Pink Floyd, Gypsy Kings, David Sanborn, Sade, Level 42, even a little Madonna – all preserved in their plastic cases, standing at attention in their dedicated slots. We brought the assortment, and compartmentalized box, promptly to Pelee.

I know most young people won’t know what the heck I’m talking about, and probably can’t even get a visual of what I’ve just described, but my kids can. Our dinner hours on Pelee usually start with my husband Rob heading to the old tape player and choosing a retro tune to play while we all sit eating supper. At some point during the meal, the music will stop and Rob will stand and make his way over to the cassette player to turn the tape over. This practice still stuns our children. It seems like a lot of work to them. Their instant, fast-paced lives leave little time for waiting around for a tape to rewind or a vinyl record to be flipped. But that’s just what we love about it, and about Pelee Island. It forces our kids to stop, slow down, wait and listen.

So this past weekend, when my daughter Megan came upon her dad just sitting on the floor in front of the stereo cabinet gazing idly out the window, she asked,

“What are you doing dad?”

His response shouldn’t have surprised her.

“Just waiting for the tape to rewind.”

Seems it has the same affect on us adults too.

Meg on Beach


2 thoughts on “Waiting to Rewind

  1. My first thought was how ancient my brother, Rob, thought I was when I found and hauled out my old 45 records and player. At the time, I was dating a guy that had 8-tracks – The Carpenters – I should have taken that as a sign.

    My second thought was how Stuart McLean would have loved Rose’s story.

    Ah, things of the past that are near and dear, and never forgotten.


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