MY TURN: Eulogy for The Long Ear

We all have our stories about the first time we visited the hallowed site known as The Long Ear. 

My first time was in 2016, right after I moved to Coeur d’Alene. I was unaware the store had a cat, and as I squatted down to peek at the bottom row of used cassettes, Boots Cat bumped my hand and scared me half to death. Rest in Peace, you beautiful creature. A lot of you might remember the old Fourth Street location, or the older Government Way spot. Some of you might even recall the first iteration of the store, in Big Bear. 

Regardless of how you first came to this place, there’s a reason you’re here now, reading this. It wasn’t the exact address of the building, because you would seek this place out regardless of which block it was on. No, you came to this place because it represented something. 

It might have been your safe space, to take shelter from a chaotic and confusing world. It could’ve been your happy place, where you found joy and pleasure from the music you bought. It could be your place to unwind, relax and take comfort in the organized rows of beautiful album art. It’s possible it was your community gathering space, the place where you met your friends. It could be the place you come for good conversation, a place you come to get a gift for a loved one, there are any number of reasons you have stepped into this sacred store. 

For over 50 years, The Long Ear has impacted thousands of people, local or otherwise. Thousands of smiles, thousands of conversations, thousands of hours of community building and thousands of hours of great music.

When I first moved here, I had trouble making new friends, but I took comfort in The Long Ear. To me, this was a place where I could relax, be myself and spend hours flipping through my favorite artists in the CD bins. Eventually, I got a job at The Long Ear, and it was truly a great honor to see the Cd'A community behind the counter of one of its most legendary institutions. 

As the years went by, I began to see what truly made this place special. It did not cater to any certain demographic or genre, as many contemporary record stores do. No, The Long Ear had something for everyone. No matter what music you enjoyed, what community you belonged to, what cultural label you threw upon yourself, the Long Ear had your soundtrack. And if we didn’t have it? We would order it for you. 

There’s a million businesses that try and advertise that they’re “here for the whole community!” The Long Ear needed no such advertisement. It’s just there, quietly, for everyone. Despite the division around us, those differences were set down in the parking lot, and everyone that walked through the door became part of the same family, same community, all speaking the universal language of music.

I would not have loved and lived in this town for as long as I did were it not for Terry, Deon, Nic, Joel, Ben and all of the regulars I had the privilege to meet along the way. I know I am not the only one. Very few businesses can leave an impact like this store has. 

We weep today, and we grieve the loss of The Long Ear. For an institution this great to simply vanish, is worthy of our grief. But let us not wallow in the void left in our hearts. Let us take the values that The Long Ear has taught us, and go forth, and be those values. They taught us to be open to new experiences. They taught us to love your neighbor as yourself. They taught us to care for our possessions (mostly our vinyl and CDs, but still). They taught us that there is always wisdom to be found in physical media, hand-held things. 

In an age of ever-increasing tech dominance, The Long Ear taught us that it is good to slow down and savor the experience of life. Let us go forth, in good sound and good faith. Get your neighbors together for a block party. Go pick up an instrument and play on your front lawn. Make your friends listen to your favorite band. Go adopt a grumpy old cat from the animal shelter. Go, and be Love, because that’s what you are. 

Long live The Long Ear.