Once More With Feeling


 

there’s something about being alone in a radio station

there’s you and the music and your thoughts during the commercial breaks after the lights dim and the doors lock
Do you know where your voice goes

how you’re in one place and many at the same time

you are someone’s daytime sky and night light lullaby

This is an ode to the airwaves that set me free.

From CBC’s vinyl café

to the Richmond Sockeyes and the White Rock Whalers

and anyone else who ever dared take a chance on me

to TSN 1040 and growing up without cable

Shorthouse Hughson and Bachelor painting the “you had to be there” picture

the chest heave listen along

each magic word made me feel like I was in a building I had only been to in my dreams

And this industry has gifted me my wildest dreams.

Please I don’t ever want to wake up.

But/if I do/you can scatter my ashes in the press box at Rogers Arena

play my last words through my headset microphone

bring back every goal I’ve ever called and relive the joy 10-fold.

Sound is far from stationary

and it is with my voice

that I learned I can literally move mountains

When I say I want to be a sports journalist

what I mean is I don’t know what else I could do

call me passionate

because where else would all this good love go

call me human

because everyone wants the story of the girl who breaks the glass ceiling

but no one wants to be the one to pass a hammer my way

I said call me human

and watch as i build a castle from the shards of my own persistence

the surprising resilience

the give inch take mile/fight back grit/the guts/the must have the stomach for it

knowing you are not alone

here’s to the drama/edge of seat spectacle/my story threaded with yours

this is…ours/here’s to the conversation/record skip small talk/the intimate connection

woven tapestry of an entire country’s shared fever dream/the fierce exclamation and a whispered love

I care/I care/I care and I want to tell you all about it/how these words bubble up and burst out because I’m nothing/ if not feeling everything and I never want to stop.

Dear Radio/we know what and who we are despite being continuously underestimated

expected to die just to come back swinging/go the distance in an fight we should be outmatched in

Bless the urgency

the honest and earnest authenticity

holy the unwillingness to be anything other than what we are

the deep breath consistency

holy the heady things from other timelines and time-zones wondering who is listening to….for….with you

When you catch the end of the perfect song/the way it hangs in the air afterwards

my first and last memory/my most consistent, steady, love

my heart dozes off in my parents van

listening/wakes up in a tangle of knotted limbs

listening for when

the noise finds you

but the sleep never does

I miss my mother’s kitchen radio

the twisted sheet music of the main floor wake up call

the lonely way jazz glitters after dark

hearing your friends on air right before you

we know what we’re getting in to

When we die

our voices won’t

so

when it’s my turn to dull the noise

will you let the dead air play a moment longer.

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