Did you ever have one of those surreal moments when everything around you rings so loud with a message that you just KNOW God is talking to you? I had one of those days last week. It also just happened to be one of those rare, perfect days.I headed up to Northern Ohio for a radio promotion (for work), dragging K. along with me because (a) I thought it would be better for him than sitting home playing video games, (2) I wanted him to meet the nice folks at the stations we were partnering with (and maybe get an inside glimpse of how it all works since he loves music and computers) and (3) I enjoy his company.
As always, my friends at the stations treated me (and K.) like family. The marketing director insisted on treating us to dinner at a great local Italian place. (She must know how teenagers love pizza). And she even gave K. a t-shirt with the station logo. Her team at the station was amazing. They simulcast my interview on both of their stations and let K. sit in and listen. It was between breaks that I experienced that surreal moment.
The deejay, an amazingly nice man in his early 50s had just started playing the Rolling Stones, I Can’t Get No Satisfaction when he took off his headphones and started chatting with K. “Do you know what you want to do when you get older?” he asked. K. admitted that he was unsure. “Never. Ever. Forget the dreams of your youth,” the deejay instructed. “When I was 47, I’d been working as a computer programmer for a large company when they did away with my position. I was out of a job after nearly 20 years of working with the company.” He paused.
“After sitting at home for a couple of weeks, I started thinking about what I’d wanted to do when I was a kid. I remembered setting up a table and chair in the basement, with a cardboard toilet tissue tube taped to a broomstick like a microphone. I’d write baseball scores on a blackboard and I’d pretend I was the sports commentator on the radio. So, at 47 years old, I decided I was going back to school to learn the radio business. I did—and look where I am now. I’m livin’ my dream.” He smiled. Mick seemed to sing a little louder to punctuate the story.
Before heading home, K. and I decided to make a trip to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in Cleveland, a short drive from the station. For a young music student and Rock fan, K. seemed to really enjoy himself. I did, too. There is something magical about music. With just a few bars or a distinctive intro, certain songs can transport you back in time in a heartbeat. The Rock Hall reminded me how much rock music is entrenched in history … the Civil Rights movement, the Ed Sullivan Show, Woodstock, The Beatles, the Vietnam War, MTV, video, the 80s (big hair & big shoulder pads). Some of it makes us smile. Some of it makes us sad. But all of it makes us feel something.
As we were grabbing a quick lunch in the café that overlooked Lake Erie, K. said—“Wow, Mom…look at that view.” We soaked up the scenery in silence. We looked around at the funky art hanging from the even funkier architecture. K. said, “This is so cool. Thanks Mom. We haven’t spent any time together like this in a long time. This is fun.” On the way home, we chatted about high school. Dreams. Future. His, mostly—but mine, too. I couldn’t help but do some reflection after this perfect day.
