The radio in the Red Hawk (the name fans gave Switchback’s Dodge Caravan) went dead. It had been half dead for a long time, not getting AM stations. Driving out to Iowa or any far destination, I would scroll through the FM, listening to mainly quirky local stations about the farm report or old time country songs. The radio reception was never good. But now, the radio has completely given up the ghost.
And I don’t know if I will replace it.
At first, I was very annoyed. Having a radio is a safety issue to some degree. Especially with changes in the weather. (Of course that is not flawless. Last summer, I happened to drive through a horrible storm front in Wisconsin that produced a tornado. Only after I had driven through the storm did the radio announce a warning.)
Without the radio, I have been able to think about things, humming tunes as I drive along beautiful countryside. It seems that my creative process has come alive in the van because there is no radio. Part of it is trying to recall lyrics to old songs that haven’t been performed in a while. I will also go through my vocal exercises, which no one should ever have to see or hear.
I have also been less agitated because the news is no longer there. The world is falling apart around me, but in the van, I am in a news-free zone. Looking out the window as I drive, I am more observant of the traffic, the white tail doe out in the far field grazing as I go by. The world doesn’t look that angst ridden and on the edge of oblivion when the radio is silent.
Having no radio makes me think about family and friends. Prayers get made as I move along. The rosary app on my phone (yeah, I have one) gets used more often. It may seem odd, but no radio means I think more about my own life, my own mortality. Like a contemplative in a sparse cell, I am able to pray a bit in this modern adaptation. All because the radio is not there to interfere with my thoughts.
Having no radio has allowed me to maintain my friendships. I make more calls to friends as I drive. These days, it is hard to keep in touch with people who are friends. Everyone is busier than ever. Having no radio has given me the time to think about and be in touch with those who are important to me.
No radio has allowed me the chance to just be in the moment. As I drive, I am able to just feel alive. The sun on my left arm, starting to slowly burn. Opening the windows and letting the air, heavy with the scents of summer, flood in. Looking out toward the horizon to observe and enjoy the big heavy cumulus clouds that mark this time of year. Hearing the sounds of the country, as well as the city. All of that usually gets homogenized through the repetitive running of a radio.
Will I replace the radio? Probably I will have to, especially as Annie and Aine have asked about it. And the radio has allowed me to home in on local discoveries and interviews with people who are living wonderfully full lives. I am grateful for such inventions, as Jekyll and Hyde these creations are for us.
I guess the gist of it is that a broken radio is symbolic for me. A reminder that there’s a lot of man-made distraction in my life. Algorithms that track my searches on the computer. Apps like Facebook or Instagram that are a rabbit hole of time killing. Not having the radio has been an exercise in mindfulness, in centering myself and feeling very much part of the moment. That perhaps all that wasted time I am good at wasting, needs to be channeled toward time with meaning. Even if it is just marveling at the world through the windscreen of a van, as I silently travel along.
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