Here, There, and Everywhere

19 Feb

So there are these commercials that the National Association of Broadcasters is putting out on the radio about how radio is heard here, radio is heard everywhere. You’ve probably heard these little poems based on radio dedications, going out to so-and-so. I think they’re really clever, and kind of sum up the connections we make to each other through music. For many years, radio was a key form of communication and media, and I think we’ve forgotten about it. Listening to the radio, especially WROQ 101, makes me wish I had been one of those girls, sitting in my room, waiting for that perfect song to come on that reminded me of that special someone. Aching, burning because that silly little piece of music was so good. Music today just doesn’t do that. Music – and radio – connect people. To those of you sipping your morning coffee, to those of you procrastinating at work, and to those of you surfing through insomnia late at night, this one goes out:

To the hoping for sun,
to the praying for rain,
to the worried at home,
to the sons far away,
to the one in the cubicle, working alone,
to the one at the counter, waiting to close,
to those stuck on the freeway,
to those stuck on the bridge,
to the stuck in his job barely making the rent,
and to the girl in her room, waiting so long,
just hoping to hear that beautiful song,
this one goes out.

This song goes out to the man up in space,
to the girl in her dorm,
to the tent on the beach.
This one goes out to that treehouse in Tekal
to that houseboat on the Chesapeake.
This one goes out to the teepees
and wigwams, the trailers and truckers
and houses on wheels.
And to the waiting to be found,
and the wishing to stay lost,
this one goes out.

To the radio on the counter,
to the one in the dash,
to the one at the river tuned to news,
to the one in the shower, the one that lights up,
the transistor, potato, and the elevator radio,
to the $4,000 speakers in the one-bedroom shack,
to the beat up old boom box in the toolshed out back,
and to you, pretty little thing all shiny and new,
this one goes out to you.

Radio: play us that song that makes us sing
wake us up, make us dream.
Take us on a trip to the wild, to the sea.
To that tiny village war won’t leave.
And when the building is emptied,
and the lights have all dimmed,
tell us that story with the happy end.
And radio, one more thing:
sing us a song before we turn in.

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