So, we were driving in the car the other night, and I remembered a game we used to play with an AM radio when I was a kid. You’d try to find a station buried in the static, the kind that seems to waver in and out, and whoever got the farthest one won. It was a little tricky since you could get two or three on the same frequency if they were far enough from each other in different directions. And WKBW in Buffalo didn’t count. Even my baby brother could find WKBW since it was a “super station” broadcasting at some huge power level. The farthest I ever got was a station in Oklahoma, when we lived on the lower east side of Manhattan.

And it’s rare that I have control of the radio. Usually my fifteen year old daughter imperiously flips from channel to channel searching for the most whiney repetitive singer she can find. There are a (very) few we both like, like the Decembrists ‘Sons and Daughters”. It IS repetitive, but the melody is so complex, it’s fine.

But that night I had control of the radio. I knew they would be willing to listen to me search the static for a really short time, so I made the most of it. We were in eastern Pennsylvania north of Philadelphia at the time, and I found a station in Wilkes-Barre. Okay, but no prize. Then I found one in Detroit. I was excited.

I said, “Listen! It’s in Detroit!” You could almost make out hat they were playing, through the static. In a chorus of dead monotone they said “Yes, Dad.” You know, the voice that says “in two seconds I plan to die of boredom. Maybe the experience will be interesting.” So I said, “No listen! The solar radiation isn’t disturbing the ionosphere, so the radio waves bounce off and come down to us. They travel twice as far at night as they would during the day. It’s really cool!” And they said “yeah, Dad” in exactly the same tone.

I guess there are some things you can’t share with your kids. Midnight put her head in my lap, and looked up at me with that “Oh, well” expression.