Radio Was Another World. Somewhere.

11/24/02 Copyright RUMBLE ON CLYDESDALE STREET

Chapter 2 “Radio was another world. Somewhere.”
The Second World War was fresh in everyone’s mind. Times were Spartan. For many families make do was make do. If the hardships were there, parents managed well to keep them concealed. For kids it did not matter. There seemed to be lots of kids and we were masters of our own invention.

There wasn’t television, videos, computers, or anything physical that was too organized by over achieving parents. Kids first did their assigned chores then rushed to create their own entertainment. We lost ourselves in wanton imagination. Imagination opened the door to our dreams.

When the chores were done and time roared in, radio was our companion. I loved radio. Sitting eagerly cross-legged in front of the big wooden console, right in front of the scratching speaker, I listened to the radio shows of the day. They spirited the imagination. Radio was another world. Somewhere.

Sending away for the likes of the coveted ‘Lone Ranger Arrowhead’ was something to look joyously forward to. The Arrowhead had a whistle, and a compass I think, or was that a magnifying glass? It didn’t matter. It arrived from some mysterious land where the Lone Ranger and Tonto lived and it was precious. These were very special times.

We could all thank GB Bread. As local sponsors for many radio shows we were fully entertained with the excitement of radio drama. The booming voice of the announcer would first introduce “Brought to you by GB Bread” then began the journey into a world of fantasies.

All the kids loved listening to the Lone Ranger, Cisco Kid, The Shadow, The Whistler, and other radio characters of our time. Every night was an adventure. Exciting enough to keep you awake reliving the action packed episodes where all you could wish for is being partner to them.

Kids would get together the next day to talk endlessly about the most recent show. It was always with anticipation we awaited the next episodes n the never-ending series. The suspense was unbearable. What fun.

One day I eagerly raced into the front room to turn on the radio only to find my Dad bent over deeply in the big chair nearby. He was cradling a blue coloured letter on his lap and his hands were cupping his face. I knew that letter was from far away. He was sobbing. My Mom stood nearby. Silent. The room felt suddenly cold. Spirits were fleeing. Emptiness everywhere.

I could not listen to the radio that night.

My uncle, Dad’s youngest brother, had been killed in the distant land my Dad came from. My uncle had been shot in the back while having his dinner.

The description left me confused. Shot in the back. Ambushed? War was over wasn’t it? What did it all mean?

It was a time when grudges, jealousies, and hatred’s were very fresh in the lands where war was so strong in people’s mind. My uncle was a casualty of the aftermath. My Dad and our family the victim’s of the circumstance.

This reality of life rather than the imaginative musings of Radio Shows was new to me. I had never seen my father cry nor ever thereafter.

A rush of helplessness blanketed the room. I rushed to pet the cat.

It was forever before the radio was turned on again.

CopyrightRGT