like broken flowers buried in the snow

Today I found a tape recorder tucked away in a drawer at work.

It was the same model of one that I used to have when I was younger, which I stole from my dad under the pretense of using it for study purposes. I did that some – I used to memorize various terms by reciting them into the recorder and then I would listen back to them.

I would also use the recorder to tape songs off the radio – this was before I had a walkman of my own – and I would also make my own audio books, from my own short stories. I would often send the tapes to my gran in California, along with other musings. She would respond back with a tape of her own.

When we were sorting through her belongings we found a closest full of tapes. She used to exchange them with my grandmother and my dad as well. I hadn’t been able to bring myself to listen to the ones I have from her, but I’ve been holding onto one of the ones I made for her. I know one night when my insomnia kicks into overdrive I will press play. There is always something humourous about finding an old photograph of yourself, but there is something very ominous about listening to an old voice.

I made it my pseudo goal for the year to attempt to send more handwritten/made post, and I did. I think for the coming year I might try and reinstate my tape-letters again. Start off with my family first, perhaps. It was something my brother was never a part of, and I think he would get a kick out of it now.

Although I guess people don’t have the devices anymore to listen. It seems like the life span of technology keeps shrinking. Hmm. I guess I could go digital and make a CD but somehow that doesn’t feel the same.

Did you ever exchange tape-letters?



Filed under honeybees, memory

4 responses to “like broken flowers buried in the snow

  1. Not tape letters, but we did spend hours recording and playing “radio.”

  2. Sounds like fun. Something that a blanket fort would welcome.

  3. kelly

    i never exchanged tape letters, although there was a couple times when my dad would set up a recorder secretly while we were playing a sunday afternoon family game or something. I found one of these while helping my mom go through some stuff a few years ago. He died in 1993 and listening to that tape and hearing his voice caused some really intense emotions and memories. I’m glad I was alone when I listened to it.

  4. Voices can bring back memories and emotions much more than a photograph. I’m happy my family has such great video, photograph archives though.

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