On Air

My phone rang at 6:04 pm the other day.  I’d been at my father’s house for over an hour talking about my recent trip to Seattle.  He’d been asking a lot of questions and surprisingly I knew the answers.  I didn’t answer some knowing the reason he was asking them.  The phone number was not one I recognized but I knew it was a local cell phone number from the exchange.  “Hello?” I said in my most professional voice.  He identified himself right away which I like; I hate when people assume you know who it is or think that it’s fun to make you guess.  I don’t save numbers in my phone automatically I don’t like scrolling through them. 

The caller was Darnell Brewer and on the rare occasion that he calls it’s for a reason.  “I need a favor” he got right to the point.  He was asked to host a radio show for a mutual friend at the last minute and needed a guest and wanted to know if I was available.  “What time” I asked, there was one of those nervous chuckles and then “7 o’clock” as he cleared his throat.  After doing talk radio and cable TV for the past 15 years I know what it’s like to scramble to find a guest for whatever reason.  If the show is popular its easy guest are soliciting you all the time asking if they can come on your show.  When the show is not popular you’re looking under every rock you can to find someone even half-way interesting to come downtown at odd hours, in the cold to do a show.  This was a live talk show with callers.  

For some reason I asked “so how far down on your list was I?” as if it mattered.  Maybe it was my ego but I honestly wanted to know before I agreed.  “Number 3” he said.  I had already stood up put my cup in the sink and was starting to pull on my coat as I gave him my meager demands.  It was cold out and I didn’t want to drive, if he started right then he could get me and be down at the station in time for the show.  Luckily I had my laptop in tow.  I don’t know how I ever did radio before computers & internet access.  I pull up everything because it seems disrespectful to those that are listening to me to be caught unaware or uninformed of anything.  Thanks to the internet you can know a little bit about everything as quickly as you can type it in.  We arranged a pick up location and I was off.

The Seattle Backdrop

I had only been back in town 2 days at that point.  I’d spent a week in Seattle with my family following a funeral that I attended.  I’d stayed with my Aunt and Uncle whose house was not only beautiful it was immaculate, something that I’m not quite use to.  My place is comfortable, you know lived in; it’s just me.  Like now I’m sitting here at my kitchen table typing there is no special room or office that I have to sit in, sure I have an office but I’d rather sit in my kitchen with a cup of coffee next to me.  I have small bookcase on my kitchen table for books I like to keep close.  I have journals and papers sprawled out on the table too.  I have a basket at my feet with more books and papers and a stool for my reference stuff like a dictionary, thesauruses and bibles.  My bedroom is pretty much the same, scattered with books, notebooks, pens and highlighters.  Don’t get me wrong there is nothing wrong with having a well organized home but coming from mine it’s an adjustment.  They didn’t pick up my stuff but they did neaten up my workspace each time I left it for a moment. 

It seemed indulgent being able to sit in their home surrounded on every side by breathtaking beauty.  The view of the lake the mountain, their home was awe inspiring like the perfect place to write or create something wonderful.  Leaving there to come back to my own home was hard, like a little kid I wanted to drag my feet or fall on my face and refuse to leave.  It was 50 degrees and I was coming back to snow and freezing temperatures.  I was ready to chuck home, thinking my fish had enough food in their automatic feeder and a decent battery.  They like that feeder better anyway; feeding time is fixed and happens twice a day.  They seem to pout a little when I resume feeding them.

Just like Home

My returning to the airways with that microphone in front of me felt like my return home should have felt, right.  When they cued us I lit up.  Doing radio is not like TV both require personality but you bring a different side of it to radio without as much prep time.  I went from drinking tea with Dad to being on air in one hour.  On TV you have worry about hair, makeup, wardrobe and not just any old clothes.  What accentuates you while not clashing with your set?  Does it make me look too fat and where to put that microphone?  It’s recorded then edited then shown.  Radio is live. .it’s magic and callers give instant feedback and interaction.  Don’t get me wrong I love TV but the difference between radio and TV is the difference between my Aunt’s house and mine.  I miss it.