When my youngest son was still of single-digit age, he asked me something about my big, black CDs. I had to chuckle as I pulled an LP album off the shelf. “Big, black CD,” I thought to myself.

I love my old LPs, though I do not listen to them much, but they are there when I need them, like old friends. Their special way of sharing the music that is cut into their grooves is a real treat. A lot of people I know have ditched their albums. Not me, not a single one. There are so many aspects of the LP-era that are special to me.

Album art and photography: The cover art was often as memorable as the music, and the photos on the inner jacket fed my love of photography. When I had a few freelance photography gigs for CBS Records, I thought I was in the big league!  Alas, no.

Tick, tick, tick: Non-music sounds often accompanied the music due to dirty or scratched albums, but the one that built anticipation was the tick-tick-tick when the needle first touched the album and made its way to the first groove within which the music was hidden.

The simple pleasure of a clean album and a dust-free needle: The best measure to prevent the sounds that were not musical notes was to have a clean, static-free album and a clean needle. It was rather satisfying using one of the many tools available to wipe the album clean, dry it and gently remove the dust from the needle before putting the album on the platter.

The well-earned scratch: Some albums were played so much that through abundant wear they acquired scratches, badges of courage for enduring so much play time. Of course, there was the time I lost control of a Super Ball that I was playing with and it landing on the album while it played caused quite the mark, but that’s another story. Soon, you became familiar with where the scratches were and knew whether you would have to get up to gently move the needle or that after a few hiccups the needle would jump across to the next groove.

Jumping up to change sides: Because there was no “shuffle” mode on songs, the sequence of songs became part of the album knowledge and that created an awareness of when the album was coming to the end, which meant it was time to jump up and turn the album over or place a new one on the spindle.

The beauty of the B side: For many an album, my favorite songs are on the B side, where the songs that didn’t make to the airwaves resided. That was one of the life lessons learned from albums – sometimes the best is the not the most popular.

I love my old LPs. I have purchased a few in the last 45 years from used bookstores, but the albums from my years of 13 to 25 hold a special place. They are more than recorded music, they are markers of a life that I am grateful for, similar to a photo album, but with things heard instead of seen.

This blog section is titled Philo, which is Greek for loving, as in love of: for example, philanthropy: love of people/humanity; philosophy: love of knowledge or wisdom. My writings for Philo examine “love of” many things — both subtle and sublime — that comprise life and living.

Check out my photographic project for the year, The Year of 70: Decades of Joy and Thanks.