It was a week or so before Christmas, 1968, and I owned fewer than five long-playing record albums, including The Monkees’ Headquarters and the first two Beatles albums. I played them endlessly on what was essentially a toy record player. That its sound was tinny and that it didn’t get very loud didn’t matter; I had my very own music.I well remember that holiday season, visiting my parents’ friends, Mickey and Ginny and their infant son, Mickey Jr. Mickey Sr. was a New Brunswick, New Jerse...