by galen

A phone alarm is pinched and paltry — it merely says, “Hey, it’s that time. ... ” Whereas radio, coming from somewhere else through the freaking air, is a portal to the living world, and an invitation to rejoin it. After all, some of your fellow citizens — bakers, truckers, nurses — are up already and hearing that same sound at the same time as you while they go about their business. Maybe they’re even talking about what’s on or singing along to a shared favorite. I believe that when we hear the radio, we intuit this social activity on some level, and that it’s compelling and subliminally motivating, if not slightly shaming — sometimes it takes a village to raise a child. That is, to raise a grown child. From bed.