When I was a teenager, there were a couple of radio shows I listened to regularly and each included requests and dedications. One was a national program that aired on Sunday mornings, Casey Kasem’s American Top 40; his show featured a long-distance dedication from a listener that Casey Kasem would read over the airwaves before playing the selected song to whoever the listener had written about. Those dedications tended to be long and heartfelt, bordering at times on being not just a little bit sappy. But, they also tended to be one of the weekly listeners’ favorite moments, even more than the songs themselves.
While I never had occasion to submit a long-distance dedication, I did try more than a few times to bare my heart similarly on my local radio station. My local Top 40 station took requests on Friday nights. Because I was not in the crowd with Friday night plans every week, I tended to cozy up next to my stereo and tune into the request program while dialing (and dialing and dialing and dialing) the radio’s phone number on our landline. I don’t believe the stars ever aligned on those nights of trying to make my requests. If I ever did get through, I’ve since forgotten (which, honestly, I’m relieved about given my own teenage angsty dedications to unsuspecting crushes were likely dripping in not just a little bit of sappiness). Although I cannot recall the songs or even the particular crushes, I was a regular almost-weekly teenage listener who lived vicariously through the requests of overly-sentimental pop songs of the day.
So, when my oldest teen decided she wanted to submit a song request to her new favorite national radio program, House of Hair, featuring none other than Dee Snider from Twisted Sister, I was supportive. That doesn’t mean I didn’t add a dash of candor regarding the chances of her request making the cut given the show plays on over 200 radio stations worldwide and airs for only three hours each Saturday night. With those odds, a bit of caution seemed wise.
The first week after she submitted her request, she was set up with the show’s radio streaming and her earbuds, ready for the three-hour music fest of hair metal and likely more than a sprinkling of excitement and anticipation to hear her song. Unfortunately, as the show entered its final hour, there had been no playing of her song and she definitely felt the disappointment only one who has hoped for a carefully worded dedication to play can truly feel.
Despite her disappointment, she showed up again this past week to tune in and we chatted about whether she should submit a follow up to her initial submission. Because she wasn’t sure, I left her to her show and headed downstairs to put on a movie with my 15 year old who was a bit under the weather. One of the things I love about my 17 year old is that she texts us regular updates telling us what hair metal selections Dee Snider opts to play over the course of the show. So, while we were watching the movie downstairs, she sent regular texts about her show so my husband and I could follow along on her musical adventures.
Her texts came at regular intervals, until.
Rather than a text, there was a bit of commotion from upstairs as our girl’s bedroom door swung open with a crash and her voice echoed down the stairs—he’s playing W.A.S.P. And it was actually a double-play, so she was going to hear two songs from one of her favorite bands, not just one. She had dashed halfway down the stairs to make this known and just as quickly dashed away to her room.
While it wasn’t the song she’d requested, she was beyond excited because she was getting to hear this coveted band on the radio, which happens all too irregularly for her taste. And two songs instead of one? And while listening with a friend and fellow Hellion who was also online? She said she was so ecstatic she was literally shaking, according to the next text she sent me from her room. I love that music brings her such joy, and I love that I am invited to share that joy with her whether in the car or through texts when she streams House of Hair on Saturday nights.
Having sat through many a night by my radio listening for a favorite song (even if I couldn’t get through on the phone lines ), I knew how momentous this moment must have felt for my girl and I celebrated it with her via text as she rocked along upstairs trading messages with her friend. How can I not smile realizing the pure joy these kinds of moments bring us? Especially when I see so many people for whom joy seems more elusive than effusive. I mean, what could be better than hearing a band you don’t get to hear often on the radio? Sometimes, the stars actually align and that song that rocks our world, literally as well as metaphorically, comes on the radio. And, at least for that moment, all is right with the world. Rock on, I say. Rock on!