Radio Days

About the time that I as 11, I remember spending the night at David's house across the street. We stayed up late into the deep hours of the night, talking about the dumb things 11 year old boys talk about (which probably isn't that far removed from what 36 year old boys talk about) and listening to the radio. It was right around the time when I was starting to pay attention to music, and while I don't remember anything that we said to each other, I remember staring at the Venetian blind shadows that the streetlight tossed on the ceiling and listening to that radio.

I remember being so taken by being there in the dark with that music, that KZOK "acid rock" bouncing around the room. I remember being taken by some man, possibly alone in a radio station in the dark hours, playing music for me. I remember thinking that I should always do this - go to sleep with the radio on.

This also brings up pleasant memories of being babysat by a friend of my parents and him putting on Steve Martin and Bill Cosby records for me and my brother to listen to. I sat there and looked at those huge, gatefold record jackets and even laughed at the jokes I didn't quite get.

There are memories of shoddy apartments made that much brighter by being filled with tunes from portable stereos, or composite system speakers, or even those little transistor radios not even big enough to have a tape player. There are memories of college neighbors with their room sounds of acoustic guitars and bongos spilling out to lightly dust ours. There are memories of sitting on the floor and playing cards, the TV purposefully shunned and CD's spinning and so many, "wow that's a great song" being thrown out.

I have no fun and happy memories of sitting around and watching TV.

I guess what I'm hoping is that I can provide Riley with a life filled with music. I'm hoping he can lay wide-eyed in a room at 2 in the morning someday, listening to the choices of a DJ who's still doing the job simply because he loves music.