Day 274

There is always work to do

I chose this photo over one of a house in Battle Ground. I figured the house will still be there the next time I go through town, but this farmer may not be back in the field for some time. This was the better choice.


Yesterday my grandson, Mason, posted a picture on Facebook of a pair of headphones that he had just bought. I understand his feelings. He will probably use his headphones as much for games as for music and that is OK. The picture made me think of the first set of headphones that I bought for myself back in the 60’s. I believe they were made by Koss. I bought them to plug into my tape deck, reel-to-reel, so as not to disturb other people, and to kep other people from disturbing me. And from there I started thinking about my love of music, and how I had listened to it through the years. I’m going to start sharing those memories with you today, but I’m pretty sure I’ll be spending more than one day on the subject.

I can’t remember a time when we didn’t have at least a radio in the house and my dad would often have it tuned to a station that was playing music. I have a distinct memory of being inside on a rainy Saturday morning, the radio was tuned to the LaPorte station, and they played The Teddy Bear’s Picnic. I don’t know why I remember that, but it’s there in my head. I can even picture myself looking out of the window at the rain while the song was playing.

The first radio I owned was a tubeless transistor radio that my parents gave me. It’s measurements were approximately 5″ X 7″ X 2 1/2 “. It was not one of the smaller ones that would fit in you breast pocket; those came on the market some months after I received my radio. My radio was covered in leather and had a snapping latch on the back so that it could be opened and three C batteries could be inserted. It also had a handle on top so you could easily carry it around. I loved that radio.

At night I would lie in bed at night and listen to the 50,000 watt radio stations. Mainly I listened to WLW in Cincinnati, WGN in Chicago and as often as I could WBZ in Boston. WBZ was a Top Forty station and had a disk jockey who called himself Juicy Brucey. I could hear Boston on most nights because the radio waves bounced off the ionosphere and travelled hundreds of miles. It was fun. I could hear the same music on local stations, but the idea of listening to a radio station on the east coast really pleased me. I’m easily pleased. 

I have barely scratched the surface on these memories of how I’ve listened to music through the years, so I’ll be returning to the subject.

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