PORTLAND, Ore. ( TheStreet) -- Before my wife and I moved out to Portland from Boston, my mother asked if there was anything I wanted from her house in New Jersey to take on the trip with us."Yeah," I said. "Can you bring up Steve Holland's records?" In our family lore, Steve Holland's records are the equivalent of The Ark of the Covenant from Raiders Of The Lost Ark or One-Eyed Willy's treasure map from Goonies. The story went that Steve Holland, my mother's high school boyfriend, had lent them to her more than 40 years ago and that the two broke up shortly thereafter. My mom got the records in the exchange and both went on to lives too busy to be bothered with a bunch of old vinyl. The two faux-snakeskin flip-top boxes of 45s had been buried in a far corner our family's attic since we moved into the house in the mid-'80s and hadn't been played since the late 1960s or early '70s. When my mom brought them up to our Boston apartment last summer, I was surprised not only by the singles they contained -- Dirty Water by The Standells, Louie Louie by The Kingsmen, You Can't Hurry Love by The Supremes , The Music Explosion's Little Bit O'Soul -- but by the sheer amount of labels. Not just Motown, Stax, Sun and the ones people still talk about, but dozens of others. The orange-and-white checkers of Roulette records, the googie font of Laurie records and the cartoon quote bubble firing from the revolver of Bang Records still entrance me every time I drop the 45 adapter on the turntable and give them a spin.