On the Radio: An Introduction

My grandmother first introduced me to public radio. She listens to jazz and classical music on the radio in her kitchen, and because she and my grandfather live on a farm in the middle of wheat fields, the reception can be fuzzy—like it was the first time I listened to A Prairie Home Companion.

Despite the poor reception, I fell in love what I heard: satirical commercials about rhubarb pie and catsup, folk songs, piano, and stories about life in Lake Wobegon, Minnesota.

Garrison Keillor’s voice wove story and social commentary together in a way my adolescent self hadn’t encountered before. He wasn’t offensive or pretentious, but he did make points. Points that, surprisingly, my grandmother agreed with (or at least entertained). He talked about Democrats in a good way, and I couldn’t believe it.

Years later, a boyfriend introduced me to This American Life and Radiolab. Between listening to stories about music lessons and learning how ducks copulate (a tricky business), I fell in love.

This morning, while making breakfast in my own kitchen, I turned on the radio. The reception was clear and the hosts were smart. And even though I was alone, I felt connected and expanded.

I think that's the magic of radio--good radio, anyway. It brings us the world through sounds and stories and requires us to listen and use our imaginations. In turn, our need for story is nourished, along with our vision of our world, our culture, and our selves.