It's Sunday morning at 8am and in a few minutes Alexis and I are set to drive to Orland Mall and, hopefully, finish the bulk of our Christmas shopping. It's not like the old days. Our kids are 35, 23 and 20. We buy things like GNC gift cards and trendy sweaters, makeup and airplane tickets. Today we're looking for a backpack that could stand up to the fashion fancies and packed trains of New York City, where one of my daughters now lives. One day she's waking up every morning in the bed that I'm now sitting on to blog to the three or four of you. Next thing you know she's standing on a train holding the plastic strap above her head to keep from falling into the overflow crowd on the train from Long Island City to Manhattan. Go figure.
There’s a whole different side to My American, Radio Life that I haven’t really talked about. It has to do with laying down under a tree if it’s summer or on your bedroom floor if it’s winter and waiting for whatever is supposed to happen next happen.
In my American, radio world, that’s how innovation works. It’s like with love or getting over a cold – you can’t make it happen. Real innovation, true creativity… you just put yourself in a position that it just might happen and then you wait for it, hoping like hell that it comes before you die. Dead and gone in a grave on a night like tonight when it’s cold as icicles out would be a real drag… especially if while you were alive you never sat still enough under a tree or on your bedroom floor to hear the call.
2:14pm on a Thursday afternoon.
A lot of what I could write in this blog is