When we moved from our 4-bedroom house with storage space, closets, washer/dryer, yard, and cabinets into a tiny apartment with none of the above, I had to get rid of a lot of stuff. I sorted through, item by item, letting go of things I kept with me for years for no real reason. One of the more difficult things to say farewell to was over half of my record collection. All of my music is now on my computer and ipod and I realized that I scarcely, if ever, listened to records anymore. Furthermore, many of them were scratched or broken and they take up a lot of room. While doing housework yesterday, I decided to dig out and listen to the records that “made the cut.” I soon found it very interesting that those who know me the best could probably guess every single album I kept. Because they’re my influences, they’ve become part of who I am, and each one holds a memory that is to me, as clear and vivid as a color photograph. First I listened to my favorite record, autographed by the m