Well....Hi There!

As I think about being on the radio I reminisce back to when the radio seed was first sowed in my "garden of ether." As a kid I never went to bed with out my transistor--a GE with a crappy earphone--under my covers. I'd listen to the disc jockeys and not the music. Who cared about the music, you could find that at Arbuckles Music Store on Garvey Ave. in Monterey Park where I spent my (de)formative years. My first 45 RPM--It's My Party by Lesley Gore. My hots for Lesley were torrid...and yes she knew how I felt. I wrote her letters everyday for a year, mailed them to Mercury Records, her record company, and told them over and over how I felt about this "older" woman; after all, she was born in 1946. And in 1963 I was a mere pup of 12 but knew in my heart of hearts I could satisfy this older 17 year-old minx. After nearly 300 letters it finally came. The sound of trumpets accompanied my treasure. Much like when Ralphie received his "Official Red Ryder Carbine-Action Two-Hundred-Shot Range Model Air Rifle" in The Christmas Story. Although I knew my first rock n' roll love would NEVER shoot My eye out! Maybe a few gouges here and there..... My treasure was an autographed 8 x 10 black and white glossy of my true love. Yes, touched by her own hand. Signed just for me...even though my name didn't appear anywhere on this masterpiece. Later in life I had the opportunity to interview my sweetheart. I still felt the pangs of a Montague yearning for the Capulet. We spoke. I gushed. We felt the warmth of our words melt into each other then she hit me with it. She had not personally signed any of her PR photos in 1963--none that went out in the mail anyway. After I removed Cupid's arrow and broke it over my knee I let her go. Now she and I could continue our lives--albeit without each other--in bitter emptiness. Ten minutes after the interview concluded I was over her. Yes, dropped like a hot rock, I must move on. Much like in this blog. So now I come to the real reason for this diatribe.