Confession time: I still listen to the radio. With the iPod, iTouch, mp3’s, Pandora, and Sirius radio options, not to mention the soon to be outdated CD’s, it’s possible these days to never listen to the radio. Even my Dad, who now claims he’s in the 20th century with his iPhone, and don’t get me started on the hours of hilarity this has provided, even my Dad is listening to Pandora.
But it dawned on me in the car the other day what I would miss if I stopped listening to the radio. As a kid I spent plenty of time in the car. Whether we were moving across country or driving to see family hundreds of miles away, the radio was always on. Looking back on it, my parents listened to a lot of music, some good some not so good, but it was always on.
The radio has become a roulette wheel of sorts, a “what song connects to a childhood memory” adventure down memory lane. Is it Blondie’s Heart of Glass and driving to the swap meet when I was nine and we lived in the god-forsaken desert? The Fleetwood Mac song that was on the radio when traipsing to the Coors beer waterfall with my aunts? Or is it that Joe Jackson song that was on the radio when we drove to my aunt’s wedding in a snow storm? Not to mention the Saturday Night Fever album that they played relentlessly, which I now blame for my love of disco.
These are memories are unintentionally buried some where under my to-do list, what I need to get at the grocery store and the constant reminder that I still need to make my dental appointment. Memories that are sweet, mostly, and remind me of all of the experiences that have culminated to today, as I listen to the radio.