Why I Love Radio

Freelance journalist Jack Hitt is a New Haven native, and I make sure to go and see him whenever he comes to Yale to talk.  The last time was a discussion on all of the sky is falling/death of print journalism talk that’s reached a head lately, and during the talk Hitt said something I really liked about the progression of technology through which we access the world.  I’d always seen radio as a sort of stepping stone towards television and the internet and everything that came after, our gateway into the big world of broadcast.  And that’s true, but Hitt classified radio as part of the world of print.  (He should know, too, he’s a big part of both worlds, and his This American Life programs are among the best recorded.  Be sure to check out “The Super,” “Act Five,” and “Fiasco!” especially.)

Radio stories are edited like written pieces, and are word driven, making us imagine what we hear just like we do with books.  This really struck me as significant, albeit something I should have realized long ago.  That’s why I love radio so much!  I mastered walking and reading, and roller blading and reading, and biking and reading, all at a young age (and only usually in the circle in front of my house, don’t worry.  Also, no roller blading anymore, I’m a big kid.  Also my skates broke) but reading and driving is thankfully beyond my grasp.  Not that I’ve tried, that would be incredibly reckless and irresponsible.  Except maybe at a particularly long red light, but that was only a couple times, promise.

Anyway.  Great radio engages the mind just like a great book, and it can be a social experience in a way that most of us lost with books in our early childhood, when we stopped reading at bedtime with our parents.  With radio, however, that experience can continue on.  Here, then, is a brief history of my life with radio:

A Prairie Home Companion

I grew up listening to PHC in a house full of Garrison Keillor books, and I knew all the words to the Powdermilk biscuit song and Tishomingo Blues early on.  We had cassette tapes of anniversary shows and listened at home and on car trips, and in May, 2004 my dad and I went down to Nashville to see the show live at the historic Ryman auditorium: birthplace of the Grand Ole Opry.  I later learned exactly how important the Ryman was to the development of PHC.  In 1974 Garrison went to William Shawn, then editor of the New Yorker (and one of my favorite people) and proposed writing an article about the last days of the Opry at the Ryman.  From that article sprung Garrison’s desire to go home to Minnesota and start a similar show: an old time variety show, with voice actors, and sound effects, and music, and all the things that made early radio great.  Later, when the Prairie Home movie came out we drove to Paducah to the nearest theater with a showing, and I loved it, despite Lindsay Lohan.  A Prairie Home Companion was the first radio show I loved.

Car Talk

I was never really interested in cars when I was little, nor do I know anything about them now (I’ll work on it, I promise.  It’s either that or learn how to build a Lincoln-esque split rail fence, I need the manliness boost) but I loved Car Talk from the first time I heard those grating Boston accents and those endless laughs.  Car Talk is the best type of program centering around a single subject: engaging for aficionados and also immensely entertaining for a listening who doesn’t know a Night Rider from a Chitty Chitty Bang Bang.  (Yes, I am aware those aren’t actual car models.)  Most of all I love when they act like the prim-and-proper hoity-toity brass at NPR hate how well they do with a low-brow show about, of all things, cars.  Speaking of, their cameos in the Pixar film were, in terms of sheer delight, one of my favorite movie moments.

This American Life

TAS was the first show I began listening to on my own, and the first I listened to primarily through the internet.  At the time WKMS wasn’t yet carrying the show, and it was the first podcast I’d ever gotten on my ipod.  My love for TAS came in the same spring I rediscovered my love of digging holes, but that’s something else entirely.  As I’d dig, I’d listen to shows, one after the other, each one funny, and entertaining, and with a perspective I never would have seen on my own.  At the same time, I discovered my trouble in explaining exactly why I loved the show so much.  ”Well, see, each week they have a theme, and then several stories around that theme…it sounds a lot better when Ira Glass says it.”  And there were such great themes!  A show recorded on an aircraft carrier flying missions over Afghanistan.  Shows about summer camp, and music lessons, and each year around Thanksgiving a show entirely devoted to poultry.  And each episode filled with stories from real people, all put together in a way never done before on radio.  My dad was a supportive, if not completely understanding participant when we went again to Paducah to see a live broadcast of the show, telecast all across the country into movie theaters.  We were two of four people there, and for some reason the next time a telecast happened, the theater didn’t book the show.  Oh well.  For us, and for the nice couple sitting a few rows down, it was a great experience.

Radiolab

Remember how you felt in fourth grade when the class dissected owl pellets?  (I may just be speaking for boys, I’m not sure if the girls were as enthused to put together all the little animal bones as we were) Or how neat it was the first time you got the microscope to work and saw all those things squirming around in the water drop?  Science was something of wonder and awe when we were little, and somehow eventually that faded, for some of us.  At some point in school kids that were once excited every day to go and see celery pull food-coloring tinted water from a glass lost that excitement.  Radiolab recaptures that feeling of discovery and joy that those of us on the humanities side of things may have abandoned years ago.  Jad Abumrad and Robert Krulwich do an amazing job of presenting new developments and research on a subject in a way that engages the listener and also doesn’t shortchange the great minds that have brought us to this point, featuring lots of interviews with scientists and experts in a format that isn’t in the slightest bit dry or bland.  And again, with such great topics!  My favorites are the single word titles: Sleep, Laughter, Placebo, even Parasites.  Even now, we don’t fully understand how sleep works, or why we laugh.  These are things that are a huge part of our everyday life, and most of us never even think of them except on a superficial level.  Radiolab has dramatically changed how I view and experience the world, and it’s helped me to grow closer to the little guy out exploring in the backyard  in his pith helmet and pocket-filled khaki vest that I once was.

Now then.  I’m not sure what conclusion to arrive at from all of this, unless it’s that next time on a long car ride you might try setting aside Miley and Ke$ha and the rest (don’t worry, they’ll be fine while you’re gone) and find the nearest public radio station.  Public radio: more enlightening then Ke$ha.  If that isn’t fit to print on a fund drive tote, I don’t know what is.

Asterios Polyp



Image taken from the NY Times Review by Douglas Wolk, whose book Reading Comics: How Graphic Novels Work and What they Mean eagerly awaits on my bookshelf

When I was little I never had superhero comics, or action figures, or even watched the shows on Saturday Morning.  I think it was an overprotection first child type of thing.  So my introduction to cartooning, to comics in general, was with stacks and stacks of Archie comics from the late seventies and early eighties from my grandparents’ house, and also from hunting through New Yorker cartoon issues.  Then one day in fifth grade the Scholastic book fair came and I bought my first Calvin and Hobbes collection, and from then on I was done for.

Now, ten years later, I still don’t know anything about superheroes, but I love cartooning, and I love comic strips, and I’m growing to love graphic novels.

I just finished rereading Asterios Polyp, written by David Mazzucchelli and published in summer 2009.  I’d seen a lot of great reviews and was excited to find a copy of the book in the Bass Library graphic novel collection, and after first reading it I saw another review, this one by comics pioneer Scott McCloud, who offered this advice:

“If you’ve read Asterios Polyp once…

Read it again.

Seriously, Mazzucchelli’s book is a great re-reading experience. There are things you’re only likely to notice the second or third time around, and at least a few locked doorways in early sections that only open with keys from later chapters. And they’re much more fun if you find them on your own, so again you might want to ignore the rest of these ramblings if you haven’t plunged back in yet.”

A short time after reading the review, I did just that.  And it was wonderful.  Much like second and third and tenth viewings of Arrested Development episodes, rereading the book was a brand new experience, albeit with significantly fewer seal and hand puns.

Asterios Polyp is the story of a world renowned architect of the same name whose work has all been, to this point, wholly theoretical; none of his buildings have ever been built.  Divorced from his wife and living alone in Manhattan, the book begins when his apartment is struck by lightning.  With all (almost) his worldly possessions, Asterios abandons New York and heads west, eventually settling in an unnamed town in the Midwest where he works as a mechanic.  The book’s art was too much to take in on the first reading, and discovering previously unnoticed details was one of the best parts of the reread.  More than anything, however, the second read gave me more time to appreciate a masterwork that Mazzucchelli spent more than a decade creating.  Speaking with only the slight hyperbole, there are breathtaking moments throughout the book, none moreso than a fantastic double page spread in the center of the book, which connects to the impactful, unforeseen conclusion.

The debate about where exactly graphic novels should fall on the art and literature spectrums is old and tired, and I won’t add to it here, except to simply say that this book is one of the finest examples of both I’ve ever experienced, and I loved reading it.

On Deadlines

I am completely, categorically, fundamentally unable to deal with deadlines in any form.  Whatsoever.

This isn’t a good thing for anyone, particularly not for a college student who is faced with writing in every class.  It’s even worse for someone interested in writing as a living.  And yet, despite all of my best efforts, most due dates pass quickly by, and by the time I come to terms with the situation they’re two exits back waiting at the gas station, and I’ve gone and driven off while they were trying to avoid touching bathroom surfaces.

This has gotten me into a great deal of trouble on many occasions, up to and including putting my entire college career in danger.  So in order to confront the problem head on, I’m going to try something new with this poor, ill-used blog:

Regular entries, with a set schedule, and a set timetable.  All in public, so I can be held accountable, and so I can refer back to these posts as an example of my reformed ways.  Content (and quality) will very wildly, what I’m interested in is consistency.  There’s no excuse for me to still be losing this struggle so badly.

I’m going to go ahead and post this before I lose my nerve, see you tomorrow.

Another Trip Down Classic Letterman Lane

Here’s another one of my very favorite Letterman clips.  Late Night with David Letterman, which ran from 1982-1993 on NBC, was a groundbreaking show that influenced generations of comedians and humor writers and changed the whole talk show format.  I read Mike Sacks’ new book of interviews with comedy writers And Here’s the Kicker recently and there was hardly an interview where the show wasn’t mentioned.  This clip is one of my favorites from the old show.  Dave did a viewer mail segment regularly, which turned into CBS mailbag for legal reasons after the network move.  In this one a girl wrote in to tell him that the sneakers he wore on the show weren’t classy enough, and Dave went out to her house with a camera crew to meet her.  She wasn’t home, so he moved their lawn and her younger brother showed up and took the crew to her room to go through the shoes in her closet.  They finally met up with her at her job at Sears where Dave presented her and the family with a nice Bug Zapper machine and got her to help him pick out a nice pair of penny loafers in the shoe department.

How many Spidermen can fit in a Jamba Juice?

One of my favorite David Letterman bits of all time, the entire thing is wonderful.  I heard about it first on a Sound of Young America interview with some of Dave’s writers, and it stands up to anything from the old Late Night show.  Spider Man 3 had just come out, and the show bought up every costume they could find in town.  When we were in New York last week we went to see the Ed Sullivan theater and unknowingly visited the same Jamba Juice right after getting sandwiches from Rupert Jee’s Hello Deli.  A Great Day for Television.

Another Picture Post: 50th Anniversary of the Newport Folk Festival

This summer I was in New Haven taking a great class on Ulysses and my class coincided with the 50th anniversary of the Newport Folk Festival, which Pete Seeger helped start back in 1959.  It’s an amazing, historic festival, known most infamously as the place where Bob Dylan went electric in 1965.  The lineup was amazing: Billy Bragg, the Avett Brothers, Gillian Welch and David Rawlings, Fleet Foxes, Iron & Wine, The Decemberists, and a singalong at the end with Pete Seeger and his grandson, Tao, along with all the other performers from throughout the day.  And those were just the people I got to saw!  The pictures on my digital camera have mysteriously disappeared, but I do still have what was on my phone.  It was a great day, despite having to go nearly 40 hours without sleep and only eating cookies and apples I stole from the dining hall the day before.

Not pictured are the train, bus, van, and boat that it took to get to the festival, or the forty year old Australian dude I met at a rest stop who I found the ferry with, or the dude from Swarthmore who sat by me on the bus because I was wearing a This American Life shirt, or the hipsters behind me during Pete Seeger’s set who slowly lost their jaded post-whatever affectations during the singalong somewhere around “Well, I’ve got a hammer, and I’ve got a bell, and I’ve got a song to sing all over this land” or the middle-aged woman on the bus who rested her head on the back of my seat and said “I’m not tryin’ to flirt with you or nothin’, I’m just real tired.”

Actually Pictured: Newport State Capitol, awesome cavalry statue, the main stage, side stage with Sam Beam, many, many yachts (Newport: Home to the World Yachting Museum!), several hippie sunburns, and yachts at sunset as I took a boat back to the shore in order to make my bus, missing the Seeger “This Land is Your Land” singalong.  Even so, it was a wonderful day.

Snow Day

Comedy Fact: Doing a set entirely composed of jokes about Lincoln’s cabinet members is not advisable

Every other Monday night the Yale Record hosts a standup night in the Calhoun Cabaret, (the next one’s tomorrow at eleven, you should come!) and last time I made what turned out to be a poor planning decision and chose to do my whole set as a character.  I had this list of convoluted Lincoln jokes that didn’t make any sense, so I created a context wherein I could explain them after telling them, and what follows is the transcript of my set.  It was fun!  Just not the best gut move I’ve ever made.

So, life lesson: if you’re doing standup, choose a subject with slightly broader appeal, and if you get the wording mixed up in an elaborate fart joke, don’t pause for 30 seconds and say (Wait, this one’s my best joke so I need a second to get it out right.)  The More You Know!

Anyway, here goes:

_______________________________________________

So for this next bit I’m going to be performing as a despondent out-of-work comedian who now gives tours of the Abraham Lincoln Presidential Library in Springfield, Illinois to school children.

(put on Lincoln hat)

Hey kids!  Welcome to the Lincoln Presidential Library!  I’m so glad you could join the tour today, and let me tell you: it’s going to be a crazy ride, and we might just learn a thing or two along the way!

So I was out to dinner with my wife the other night, and she asked “How’s the salmon?” and I said “Better than when it was undermining Lincoln’s administration from within his team of rivals, hey ohhhhh.”

You see kids, Salmon P. Chase was Lincoln’s Secretary of the Treasury, and he had presidential ambitions of his own.

But, man: I love salmon, and food!  Food’s great.  Sometimes I’m afraid that if I keep eating like I do I’ll develop gout, then I guess you won’t be able to call me Wesley anymore, you’ll have to call me Winfield Scott!

History Fun Fact!  Lincoln’s first Secretary of War, Winfield Scott, had gout!

Shoo, but I’ve gotta watch what I eat, or at night I start to sound like the CPRR Engine No. 116, if you know what I mean.  Toot toot!

Of course, you kids know that ol’ number 116 was the first train to cross the Trans-Continental Railroad.

Now, my wife, she’s even worse than I am.  The other night we were getting ready for bed and she let off this big ol ripper and I said “Man, I haven’t heard a wind that good since Doris Kearns!”

Ok kids, now that one combined the name of famed Lincoln historian Doris Kearns-Goodwin with a fart joke!  It’s all about making history accessible.

I’ve been sleeping on the couch for a month since then: but it was totally worth it.

Now my wife says she wants to separate.  So I said, honey, did Abe leave Mary Todd when she sold military secrets to the press to pay for her outrageous New York shopping trips?  No!  He didn’t!  Then she said marrying me was the biggest mistake of her life and I said “Honey, that’s what they thought of Seward’s Folly, but then they struck oil in Alaska!”  Now she says she’ll only take me back if someone strikes oil in me.

I’m no doctor, but I’m 80, 85% sure that that’s not medically possible.

Ok kids, it looks like I’m being signaled by your teacher, guess we’re going to have to cut this tour a little short.  Thanks for coming!  And be sure to stop by the gift shop for our ever-popular Lincoln bobble-heads!  (Pull out Lincoln bust)

Oh, Abe (talking to the bust) only you understand me.  You’re all I’ve got now, Abe, you’re the only one left for me.  We’re gonna get through this, Abe.  (twist off head of the bust, drink from bottle)

Thanks!

An Informative List Piece, in Honor of the Day

What Love Is, According to the Lyrics of the Theme Song of Hit Television Series The Love Boat

  • Exciting and new
  • Life’s sweetest reward
  • An open smile on a friendly shore

Something Love Will Cease to Do According to the Lyrics of the Theme Song of Hit Television Series The Love Boat

  • Won’t hurt anymore

  • Bladderball! yfrog.com/2py28yj #
  • Hooray for the return of Bladderball after 27 years and a triumphant win for Ezra Stiles! Moooooooooooooose #
  • Top 3 weekly #lastfm artists: Monsters of Folk – 35. Sufjan Stevens – 29. The Avett Brothers – 29. bit.ly/s150u #
  • @DefinitelyKacie Oh mann! #
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