Just Say No To AM Radio

Sometimes I look at my husband and I think “who is this guy and when did he start listening to AM radio?” I mean seriously, AM radio? My grandparents listened to that stuff. We aren’t that old, are we?

I spent the weekend with my husband’s pickup, traveling back and forth to a craft show in Council Bluffs (a blog all by itself). I started the pickup and out pops some yeehaw talking about government and economics. I push another button, and out pops some wanna-be talking about a football game. Another button brings up a station with a call-in version of Craig’s list. Talk about a parallel universe.

I hear enough yeehaws on television, walking around town, and especially out at the football field. I don’t need to invite them into my vehicle, becoming their captive audience for an hour. I mean they let just about anybody have their own talk radio show, the stupider and more confrontational, the better. And even worse, they let just about anybody call into these shows and express their rambling, inane opinions about the most mind-numbing topics. Is this supposed to keep me awake while I am driving? Life is too short to waste time listening to dumb people.

I should have known this love of news and talk radio was coming. Rick’s parents keep their television tuned to CNN or FOX news, 25 hours a day. (Yes, I know, I said 25 hours. I am making an attempt at sarcasm here. I would have said it was an attempt at humor, but it loses something when I have to explain it.)

News was never my favorite program growing up. I thought it was something they put on television following Scooby Doo and before the prime-time comedies to waste time while you eat supper. This probably is somewhat ironic, considering I got my bachelor’s degree in the News/Editorial program at the UNL Journalism college.

News is fantastically exciting when you are in the thick of it, calling people for interviews, doing research, studying products, and getting quotes. But when you are on the other side of the news -- in the general public -- it loses its charm. You know that the writer (or editor) left out all the quotes and statistics that didn’t quite slant the story the way he or she wanted it to go. You can make most stories lead whatever direction you want them to go, if you search hard enough. There really are two sides to every story, it just depends which direction you want it to lean.

But as I said earlier, I should have known that someday my husband would be a talk radio junkie. It’s in his genes. His parents often discuss the happenings half way across the world that seem to me to have little to do with our everyday life. And I really don’t want my kids exposed to school shootings and child disappearances, especially back when they were younger and a lot more impressionable. Kids have enough bad dreams the way it is. I used to have to spray the exterior of Joe’s room with Lysol, because it would kill and ward off all the spiders, crabs, wolves, or bears while he slept. Yeah, I know, I was really pushing it. Even then he was skeptical. But he probably thought if I believed it, who was he shatter my delusions.

I just am not an AM radio person. I have to listen to music when I drive – happy fun music -- cranked up loud. It keeps me moving. It keeps me conscious.

So I changed the radio over to FM. Did I change all his presets? I really, really considered it. It’s not beyond me to mess with Rick like that. I do take his little to-do notebook he keeps in his pickup and I add random messages here and there. Along with his list of lumber, screws, cleaners, and other items for apartment maintenance, I like to add “candy bottlecaps” and “flowers for your wife.” Or in his list of around-the-house chores, I might add “take your wife out for supper.” I’m still waiting on those bottlecaps and that supper out. I suppose the handwriting gave me away.

But I didn’t mess with his radio presets -- at least not this time. And as far as his preference for AM news radio, I suppose I have to take the good with the bad. After 19 years of marriage, there are going to be compromises. He may have more grey hair than black hair. He may spend most of his spare time drafting new midget football plays with his pal Brian. He may listen to talk radio and occasionally talk back to the callers. But, we are stuck with one another, for better or worse, thick or thin. He’s just lucky, I guess, that I’m so perfect. Don’t worry. If he didn’t know his wife is perfect already, he will the next time he checks his apartment to-do list. He will read that I’m perfect and that he really needs to buy more candy corn…….