Hector’s Record Collection

Hector Gonzalez, feared by the neighborhood youth, lived in his family’s garage and hung black lights on the big door, forcing us to sneak in from the back. We’d rifle through his records: Zappa, Santana, Clapton. I stole one I knew he wouldn’t miss. After he found out, my sister got in his face, defending me. Hector swung a roller skate, grazing her scalp. Soon after, Mr. Gonzalez began parking his car in the garage, and we never saw Hector again. Today, on Facebook, I read that Hector was comatose. I spun the Watergate Comedy Hour LP to his memory.

Photo credit: Kate Farnady