I Choose Radio
Mon., March 31, 11:25 AM
I can’t remember when radio was not a part of my life. Even when I understood little or nothing of what was broadcast, I can distinctly remember sitting with my parents while they listened; maybe I was three. (They used to tune in Jack Benny “because the baby liked it”; I probably liked it because Benny was my daddy’s name.)
I listen to the television a lot these days. This is not something new. When we were first married, I used to knit or crochet while “watching” TV with Husband. Later, when I was using television as a teaching tool for my little ones, I listened as I went about my daily chores, stopping when I heard pertinent information. In the mornings, however, I never put the television on. It’s too distracting when you have to get out in time for school/work.
I always wanted to explore radio. It seemed like something I could do. I understood schedules and routines, and I was sure my varied skills — which I was developing even then — would be useful at some radio station.
Our college had (still has) a nice little FM station, and when they advertised for volunteers, I went to the get-acquainted meeting. Oh, I didn’t have the chutzpah to think I could talk on the air. My mother would have been the first to tell you I have a horrible speaking voice. But I really would have enjoyed working in the record library, and the station manager was very glad to hear that somebody was interested in that job. I was very optimistic.
So what happened? The second meeting fell on an evening when I had something else scheduled. I cannot remember what the other organization was, even though it seemed very important at the time. I suspect there was someone tall, dark and charming involved, but I can’t remember who that was either. (To me, they were all tall…)
Whatever it was, I chose the other meeting, and I never again got that close to broadcasting. My brother — he of the deep, professional voice — not only got interested in broadcasting, he was part of a group who founded the radio station at his college. He was the one who showed me how to set up a record — that is, one of those round flat things — so that the music would begin playing without the dreaded “dead air.” I was reminded of that when the guys on our local station were talking about the “old days,” with grease pencils and reel-to-reel tapes.
Well, Metromedia was advertising for secretaries just about the time I met my husband. I was about to send a résumé, but I got married instead. Eventually I gave up my favorite New York stations (except for the Mets, of course) and explored the local ones. Radio has been undergoing change, what with the competition of not only television but also downloading music and so forth. So I was never surprised when one of “my” stations changed its format to something I didn’t care to hear.
As you might imagine, I was delighted, about ten years ago, when WQUN began broadcasting the kind of radio I wanted, including Music of Your Life. I am a visualizer, y’know; radio was always something for which one used the imagination. (Even Husband remembers that — even if he doesn’t remember what he had for lunch.) I really depend on the morning show because there are things I need to accomplish, not only waking up the U.D., but also preparing Husband for his day care pickup.
Imagine, if you will, my consternation when a separate WQUN contract interfered with the morning show. For those who follow the Boston Red Sox, WQUN is the local radio station that carries the games. (Or, as they say, “the station that broke the curse.”) The contract requires that they broadcast every regular season game. And the Red Sox, in their infinite wisdom, decided to open the regular season in Japan. The game began at 6 a.m. Eastern Time.
No time checks. No weather reports. No local news. Just a baseball game, which requires more concentration that I can spare in the morning. Useless!
I could have tuned to another station, but what’s available? Right wing politics or sports talk — just guys in love with the sound of their own voices. Or I could try one of the stations up or down the pike, whose focus is not local for me. In desperation, I did what I never do; I turned on the local television station. Y’know what? That was useless too.
The kind of information I wanted ran on a “ribbon” at the bottom of the screen (so that one must stop and look at it), while the network ran its usual inane morning entertainment. The only local information was a minute of our local weather forecaster. Is this what people listen to every morning? Maybe that’s why I seem to run into so many people who haven’t got a clue.
Thanks, but no thanks. I shall stick with the radio. Maybe I should write a letter to the Red Sox!
Notice how much cash has been donated.
