Radio, Radio

I love listening to the radio. I've always been a radio gal, I believe I've even mentioned this here before. I was definitely that kid with the transistor radio tucked under her pillow at night. Transistor radios were great, they were relatively small, they were meant to be portable; you could bop along listening to your little portable radio. It was a big deal to convince my parents to buy me this expensive item as a gift but I assured them I'd take good care of it and I'd USE IT. I was known for taking good care of my stuff so that wasn't a tough sell and since I was always commandeering the giant console stereo in the living room it was a safe bet that the little transistor radio I coveted would definitely get some serious use. By indulging me my parents would be able to once again watch TV since I would no longer need the giant living room console to tune into my favorite radio station (W-A-BEATLES-C!). So there it was, my very own radio with its crackly but comforting sound pumping through the little speaker. Bliss pure bliss.

The days of that radio are long, long gone. I've run the gamut of listening devices over the years. I never got onboard the iPod train (I don't like the little wheel thingy for one). I still listen to the radio. I no longer listen to commercial radio because, well, ick. Now I listen to Sirius/XM or Pandora.

This morning as I settled into my desk at work I reached for my "radio" and realized that I had come full circle. My phone these days is a Droid Razor, it's roughly the same size as an old transistor, yes it's much lighter and thinner but the other dimensions roughly measure up to an old-style transistor. As I hit the app for Sirius and watched it load I cradled my "radio" in my palm and jettisoned back in time; once again I was holding my precious box of music in my palm waiting to find out what the DJ would serve up.

I can't look at it now without seeing that first transistor radio and remembering my old bedroom with the Sears French Provencial canopy bedroom set and the weeping willow tree outside my window. I can see it as clear as day. The slippery blue satin bedding set neatly arranged on the bed and my transistor radio waiting for me on the nightstand propped on its flimsy silver easel stand. Those were good times but so are these I suppose. Certainly I'm not young anymore or innocent but that radio still holds a world of magic in it.