Savoring the Small Stuff

By Frank Absher

Bruce sang about it. Many of us have lived it. A few don’t know when it’s passed them by, which is embarrassing.

Glory Days.

I admit it. I enjoy remembering the really good times. The AM/FM combo I worked for as a newsman had a combined AQH of 33 in a large market, meaning one of every three radio listeners heard me and many knew my name. You can’t get much more glorious than that.

Unless you’re the only radio signal in town, that is, and in AFRTS, that’s what we were. While it doesn’t sound like much in these days of Internet streaming, my morning show originating in Anchorage was heard through the entire state of Alaska – all the way out to the end of the Aleutian Island chain, across all of northern Canada and into Greenland. There’s not much population density there, but there were a lot of very faithful listeners.

So in my mind, I can be forgiven for sitting around and occasionally reminiscing about how good it was to be in radio then.

Here’s how Bruce said it:

“Now I think I'm going down to the well tonight and I'm going to drink till I get my fill. And I hope when I get old I don't sit around thinking about it but I probably will
Yeah, just sitting back trying to recapture a little of the glory of, well time slips away
and leaves you with nothing mister but boring stories of glory days.” (© EMI Music)

I kept my fan mail, including a packet of about 25 letters, one from every resident in a remote, native Alaska village. I’ve kept the hand-made citation from an isolated Army camp in which the commander bestowed upon me the “Golden Finger Award” for keeping the morale up for the hundred or so guys who were stuck in that god-forsaken place for twelve months.

Of course these stories are boring for people to hear from me, but they represent an inner personal satisfaction that cannot be described. Knowing you were doing something that was meaningful to your listeners is what radio was all about.

We’ve all answered the request line and spoken with the listener who just needed someone to talk to, and most of us will never know the effect that had on the listener. We’ve all spoken to that unpopular person who showed up at the remote just to meet us. Yeah, it was a bit of a pain, but it was a part of the job, even though no one took time to write it in the job description.

Sometimes my wife says it doesn’t take much to make me happy. In fact, I’ve been blessed to know that my work in radio made a difference in the lives of my listeners, if only for awhile. The sad part is that radio today has become so impersonal that there’s no one to answer the request lines, no one to talk to, no reason to become personally involved.

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