A Gift for Mom! 🤍

What has sexy grooves, gives eargasms- even when the finely tipped needle scratches and skips through the smell of music? Vinyl.

This view from my home is shared with many others including a friend of mine who is a local musician and lead spin master of the Viva La Vinyl night- BradTuesday nights: where music is smelled and spins   www.herviewfromhome.com Hoshaw. Brad shared with me his reasons to spin, “Vinyl to me means setting aside time for music and honoring it, its reverence to music.” 

Brad started a Tuesday Vinyl Night in Omaha Nebraska back in 2008 in the neighborhood of Benson- which has grown over the years to be an eclectic masterpiece full of music, cocktails, vintageness and community. “I was inspired by a club in Davenport Iowa, a bartender would play the turntable throughout the night,” and so he brought that idea back home starting a once a week vinyl night.

I myself got done with my set at a local comedy open mic one night and noticed on the events calendar reading “Viva la Vinyl, a night to spin records.” I was happy to see something like this existed and attended the first of many one random Tuesday (the one day arTuesday nights: where music is smelled and spins   www.herviewfromhome.com week I could decompress while consuming Blue Dolphins: water on ice with an orange) and never looked back.

Like myself and many record enthusiasts, Hoshaw’s love for vinyl started at a young age – even mentioning his Fisher-Price® record player he had (super jealous) and the hand-me-down records from his folks. Through the years and expanding his own record collection he says he enjoys records and vinyl night because it is enjoyable, allowed him to reconnect with people and make new friends. It has also grown to include a Vinyl white elephant exchange during the holidays and some potluck nights along with ‘pickle juice shots.’

Picking vinyl to bring in on TuesdayTuesday nights: where music is smelled and spins   www.herviewfromhome.com night is sometimes a hassle. I have skimmed through many baskets full of someone else’s old vinyl in antique stores trying to find one that intrigued me or had some songs I knew. Over the past years- I have had pals loan me some of their vinyl to share as well as inherited (nicely asked) my grandpa for a hand cranked record player from his house that came with some records even from the 1920’s by Mamie Smith- in which I brought the entire record player and a few to share on a vinyl night. I tend to bring records from my folks collections, along with my favorite I brought for my first vinyl night “Steve Martin: A Wild and Crazy Guy” that I found in Wyoming at a record shop. When it comes to picking out his vinyl night spins, Brad says “I try to narrow down my picks from all my records, maybe see what happened on that day, sometimes no rhyme or reason- it could be modern, something everyone agrees is a classic or a personal favorite.”

Spinning records has gained popularity these last few years and for me it’s fanfrickentastic to see what I grew up on is getting the respect it has always deserved. When asked how the popularity increase affects Brad he said, “Records cost more now whereas I use to get some for .50 cents. I don’t feel like I’m part of this trend because I’ve been doing it for so long, so I’m fine with it being cool.”

Touché Mr.Hoshaw, touché.Tuesday nights: where music is smelled and spins   www.herviewfromhome.com

My view from home as a young child was being downstairs in our family room with its fancy wood paneling, awesome pink flamingo mirror, the oil lamp that had a bronze naked lady in the middle and my parents record player that had a big rectangle plastic cover. I was given the record etiquette talk many times. Even with all the change in music over the years, our family record player still exists and doesn’t collect too much dust because on random days I will throw a record on to clean house and go back to 5-year-old Elle interpretive dance mode.

Nowadays- I am and will be forever grateful to arrive in a local tavern seeing Hoshaw delicately cleaning a record before the spin along with many of my fellow vinyl enthusiasts and engage in conversations regarding music that embeds my love for vinyl deeper in my veins. It’s astonishing to find a crowd that shares this same view and some nights, just like a record skips, my heart and soul does too.

So God Made a Grandmother book by Leslie Means

If you liked this, you'll love our book, SO GOD MADE A GRANDMA

Order Now!

Elle Patocka

Elle Patocka is a Czech lady born and raised in South Omaha Nebraska. Her life has taken avenues unforeseen and some well planned in advance- and that has continued to make all the difference. She lives by the notion to be altruistic and live life because ‘’ you never know when your bus is coming.” Her view from home is seen from 5 feet 3 inches, mostly lying down in a hammock, browsing vinyl, skating, mosh-pitting and sweating with strangers at concerts. Elle recently had two pieces of her writing selected to be published in her College magazine and website The Metropolitan- this has checked her bucket list off of becoming a published writer come true and she hopes to continue to write in any form possible.

5 Things I’m Learning about 50

In: Living
birthday balloons

When my dad turned 80, he—and we, by default—celebrated all year. My sister made a fantastic, larger-than-life sign of him posing in front of his friend’s antique car, with beautiful calligraphy that trumpeted, “Cheers to you, celebrating 80 years of life!” The sign welcomed his closest friends and family into a private room at a steakhouse, where we toasted his 80 years—and the grandkids toasted his steady presence in their lives. The sign moved from the swanky steakhouse to the second-floor banister in my parents’ house. When you walked in, it greeted you—a feel-good conversation starter and a reminder to...

Keep Reading

I’m Constantly Waiting for the Metaphorical Axe To Fall

In: Living
Woman worried with head in lap

I knew people died. I just didn’t think it applied to us. Mortality met me in grade two with a punch to the gut when my teacher confirmed casually that, yes, everybody dies. What do you mean, everybody dies? I frantically thought, but kept my question to myself. Up until that moment, I had quietly believed my family was exempt from that fate. I thought death was a monster that only took other people and left my family alone. They say all panic has an origin story, and mine began shortly after that realization, fueled by a disconnected phone cord...

Keep Reading

The Apology You Deserve May Never Come

In: Living
Woman standing in field wearing hat

“You have to accept that you will likely never get the apology you deserve.” When my therapist said those words, I felt everything at once-anger, resentment, heartbreak. It was as if the air had been pulled straight from my lungs. Because accepting that truth meant letting go of something I had been holding onto for a long time: the hope that one day, it would all be acknowledged. My family was deeply wronged. Not in a way that can be brushed off or easily forgotten, but in a way that cut to the core. There were lies wrapped in deception,...

Keep Reading

To the Little Girl With Pink Flowers on Her Shoes and Courage in Her Heart

In: Living
Little girl in t-ball outfit

To the little girl with pink flowers on her white shoes and lacy fold-down socks, down and ready, tee ball glove in hand, teeth marks worn into the top. The Pittsburgh Pirates hat from Uncle Dave, a sign of camaraderie. A part of something bigger than herself. A too-long, locally sponsored t-shirt, tied up with a ponytail. Jean shorts and a belt. The type of ordinary only childhood can be. When ordinary is more than enough. No one can tell in this picture that you were scared. That you didn’t feel ready. That behind that tiny-toothed grin you were holding...

Keep Reading

Keep Searching for the Perfect Pair of Jeans

In: Living
Woman shopping for jeans

I don’t know about you, but finding a good pair of jeans has always felt like a process to me. These are too tight. Those are too loose. They fit my thighs but bunch at my hips. The dreaded waist gap. Too short—high waters. Too long, and suddenly you can’t find your legs. Before you know it, you’re ordering your fourth pair and eyeing a fifth. A woman on a mission. And still, as I stand there looking in the mirror at everything that doesn’t quite work, I just know there is a perfect pair out there for me. Somewhere....

Keep Reading

Why I Had My Benign Breast Lumps Removed

In: Living
Doctor examines mammogram images

My journey with monitoring benign breast lumps began in July of 2020 when my OB-GYN found a lump. I was sent home with an ultrasound referral. I called immediately after I got home and asked for the soonest appointment at any location. I had a young son, and was absolutely terrified. They got me in at the end of the week. My husband was on vacation that week, and what should have been an enjoyable family time was plagued with worry. At the ultrasound appointment, they saw two small lumps. I was told these were “likely benign” and was given...

Keep Reading

Repotting Myself: What My One‑Armed Grandpa Taught Me About Growing Anyway

In: Grief, Living
Black and white photo of older man in garden

I was never meant to be a plant person. I’m the woman who can kill a succulent on the way home from the store. Once, a fern sighed in my direction and gave up. That is my spiritual gift. My grandpa Dominic would have laughed—hard. He loved to laugh. And sing hymns passionately in Italian. He was an Italian immigrant who lost his arm working in a mill, and still, he woke up every morning and dressed like dignity itself. He shopped for my grandma. He fixed what was broken. And he tended the biggest, happiest garden you’ve ever seen....

Keep Reading

Farewell To the Bus Stop Moms

In: Friendship
Four women pose in residential street

It seems like just yesterday I was writing a piece about my last baby going off to kindergarten. I poured my heart out into words about how she was going to find her place in the world, and how I was going to find a new sense of belonging. I wrote, “I was able to find a bit of ‘me’ again. She has barely left my side in almost six years, so her absence is still fresh and foreign. But I know her jubilant little self will be just fine. And just like that, she’s on her way. And so...

Keep Reading

May is Maternal Mental Health Month, and So Many Moms Are Quietly Drowning

In: Living
Mother with baby strapped to chest

I’ve given birth to four beautiful boys and lived through four postpartum experiences. Each one has been different, yet there are familiar threads that run through them all. In the first couple of weeks after my first baby was born, I felt carefree…until that bubble was popped. My newborn got sick and was admitted to the PICU at a children’s hospital 30 minutes from our home. At one point, doctors mentioned the possibility of meningitis, but after many tests and a several-day admission, we were sent home. When we were discharged, a doctor left me with these words, “It’s your...

Keep Reading

The Hard Truth about Friendship in Your 40s

In: Friendship
Two people fishing on a dock

No one can really prepare you for how much friendships change in your 40s. We expect life shifts—kids grow, schedules fill, jobs demand more, and aging parents need us in new ways. Time becomes tighter, priorities change, and naturally, friendships have to adjust. That part makes sense, right? But what doesn’t get talked about enough is the quiet, hard shift, the one where it’s not just time or distance creating friendship gaps, but something deeper. What happens when you look around your “table” and realize it no longer feels like a safe place to land? What happens when you start...

Keep Reading