The Portland Parakeet Club

Oh yes, many moons ago in Portland I went into a café that had a new jukebox. They were all excited about it and asking people to bring in records to stock it. The next day I brought them the “Parakeet Training Record.” The girl at the counter was not enthused, in fact I don’t think it ever made it to the turntable, locked to the spindle, with the sound of a dime falling in and the crackling rush of a needle. That fate didn’t even occur to me—I was imagining the Portland Parakeet Club that would soon form, meeting once a week, gathered around the jukebox, everyone with a talkative little bird wearing a mortarboard hat.