I love music. I am a record collector. I love my vinyl because they symbolize parts of our music history, and offer us a look into our past. If memories are hard to find, a song can often bring them back.

I often think about my current love of music and where it all began. It got me thinking of one place in Honolulu that had good music, and was a source of my musical education.

It was a store in downtown Honolulu called Music Box Records. It was a small record store, with maybe three aisles enough to house four or five people at a time, if that. As a kid, my parents would buy me music from wherever. When I turned ten, my curiosity began to grow about music and what made it work. So either after school, or on the weekends, my mom would go shopping downtown. For the longest time I had to be by her side, and when I found Music Box, I began staying there while my mom would shop.

In Music Box was an old Japanese lady who definitely knew her music. I listened to the hits on AM radio. If a disco song was popular, I'd go get it. I don't remember every record I ever bought there, but I bought enough records for the lady to ask me: "Would you like to be in our record club?" Basically, if you bought ten 45's, you would get one for free. How cool is that? I signed on.

My mom then told me that she used to go to Music Box as a teenager. The same lady worked there. She and her sisters would catch the bus to go downtown. They would listen to the hit singles of the day. Maybe they would even sneak in a few home. All the girls in the family were Motown/soul music fans. My uncles were into the Beach Boys and anything that rocked. So I thought it was cool that I was now in the same club they were in.

Around this time, there was a rumor (urban legend) that the girl screaming in the Ohio Players' "Love Roller Coaster" was recorded during a live performance of the OP at a fair. All of a sudden, a lady fell off the roller coaster and split her head open. For years I would believe the stupid stuff my auntie's told me, until I figured out they were messing with my head. Anyway, I asked for a few dollars and rode my bike to Music Box to ask for a copy of that 45.

When my parents gave me a savings account, I saved up to about ninety dollars. I was then given control of the account. I went to Music Box and blew it on records and food. That has been the story of my life, oddly enough.

There was a part of the store I later discovered, featuring promotional 45's. The price was six for a dollar. I would often ask my mom or dad for a few dollars, just so I could hear these "promotional" records. Most were disco, but they were good stuff. Everyone could see it. It wasn't exactly a hidden place, but it wasn't as popular as buying the "hits", so I felt somewhat special going to this corner of the store. I could also look to the right and see all the Hawaiian records.

There was a ritual to buying records there. I would ask the lady for a record. She would take it out off the racks and play it on the turntable for me. Remember turntables? I got 45's like "Hey Jude/Revolution", "Can't Buy Me Love/You Can't Do That", and "Help!/I'm Down". I would give her my two dollars and off I went. Eventually I would buy my first Beatles albums there.

I left Honolulu in 1984 and the lady's son began working in the store. When I returned in 1986 and 1988, she was still there! By 1991, she and Music Box Records were gone. She had passed away. The odd thing about this is that I never knew the lady's name. She was just the Music Box lady. The record store reminded me of those small shops you would see on "Happy Days" or in some old movie. I would love walking into downtown, passing the store, and seeing the window display of the Top 10 singles of the week, while the songs would play from speakers hanging above the door.

I always thought it was cool for this little old lady to be working at the record store. She had all the records in alphabetical (artist and label) order and she knew exactly where everything was. Her hair wasn't completely gray, but it showed many years of hard work and experience. I'm sure she had placed her glasses on and off many times to make sure everything was correct. Before I knew we'd have to move to the mainland, I seriously hoped I could have worked at Music Box. I always wanted to get into the back room to see what else was in there. Other than taking small glances from behind the counter (the room itself couldn't have been any bigger than a nice sized closet), I never got a chance to go back there.

Some kids had a lot of toys; some boys collected baseball cards. I had my records. To the Music Box lady, I want to say "mahalo" for opening one of many doors to the world of music for me.

John Book was raised in Pauoa Valley on the Island of Oahu. He now lives in Pasco, Washington where he also graduated from high school in 1988. He is a freelance music journalist who has a small number of artist specific websites, including a Hawaiian Music Corner. "Being a web designer pays the bills!" John says.