It actually doesn't work as I type this. I will be looking into repairing it.
I added it to the collection because my Father had the same radio as long as I could remember. It saw daily use. It was my fathers constant companion.
I was so excited about getting it I sent a photo of it to my siblings and I received this from my sister Wanda:
OMG! I loved that radio. Even when the fabric covering the
speakers went tattered and torn, I still tuned in. I remember how rich
the sound seemed (remember- we're speaking in comparable terms) I'd
listen to faraway AM broadcasts at night. For some reason, you could
pick up channels at night that you couldn't get during the day. We could
also occasionally pick up TV channels. My fondest memories of that
radio are of Dad making cuttings with it next to him. He was listening
to either talk radio or 40's music.
In fact- I must confess one of my most favorite memories. I've
only shared this one with Bobby, but I'll now share it with you guys as
well- Mom used to tell me how wonderful life was after the kids were no
longer under foot. When I was in college, I used to worry about her. I
called her every day and wrote her a letter at least every other day.
I worried about her life without children (empy nest and all). I was
the last in her life, and because of that, I knew all about all that had
come before me. My occasional telephone calls could never replace six
children. I really worried after college when I married and we had all
moved on. Then one day, much later, something remarkable happened.
I was helping Dad at the nursery; I wasn't in the business at the
time; I was coming to help get him get caught up- cuttings, repotting,
etc. I would come on weekends (listening to above said radio in the
potting shed) and pot or make cuttings late into the night. It was the
greatest therapy for me at the time. (Until I got locked in the potting
shed by accident- but that's another story). Anyway, I showed up early
one weekend morning. I walked up to the back porch and heard loud
music. I peered in the door and saw the vision that has affected my
life ever since. Mom and Dad were in the livingroom- dancing! At 7:00
a.m.! They were in their pajamas! Listening to the local radio station
(on said radio)- dancing their asses off! How awesome is that?!- To see
your seventy-something-year-old parents dancing their asses off in
their own livingroom at seven in the morning on a random
Saturday. I must admit- I watched for a time- to see him twirl her and
to see her step into his hold and gaze back at him- it was magical. At
some point, I caught myself. I felt like I was intruding on a private
moment. I slowly backed up and turned away. I stayed outside and came
back like I was just arriving- making lots of noise so they knew I was
there. I never told them that I "caught them in the act." I didn't
want them to change their ways in case I was looming.
Mom used to tell me that they were in the middle of their second
honeymoon. Until "the dance," I thought she was just telling me that to
help me let go. To assure me that they were really happy without us
kids. Oh boy, she wasn't kidding. After that, I learned way too much
about their adult exploits after we kids were gone.
All I am saying is- Thank you Mom and Dad! I will be dancing my
ass off with my (totally hot) husband every chance I get, morning or
night. I will gaze at him as he twirls me into his arms. I hope my
daughters catch us when they come home for their occasional visits. I
hope it affects them as it did me. I hope they find their partner. If
they do, I won't mind if they don't call or write. They'll know where
we are and what we are doing. . .
Thanks Marty for the New Year's jolt. I hope your memories are as fond as mine.
--This is my vision of the heaven they are in now.
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