As predicted:
My father loved this record. So I heard it over and over again as a kid growing up in the Seventies. It's one of a handful of records that I hear and immediately think of my childhood.
So much of my father's music is like "mental furniture"; it's just there, beside all the other recollections from my childhood. And, in some ways, I suppose it's even stronger than many of them -- since music was something that I absorbed unconsciously. In our house, it was just in the air, all the time.
It's a great gift my father gave me.
About a year ago, a long-time family friend gave me this photo. It's me and my dad, listening to music in the living room in our first house:
I suppose I'm maybe 10 years old (?) at the time.