KXCI

July 14, 2009

Jason and I rode together in the Toyota Tacoma. Jeremy and I call it our green taco. Jeremy and John drove with all their gear in the Honda. I hadn't been to the KXCI studio before, but had a general idea of where it was. It was nothing like I imagined.

The sun had gone down and took the pounding heat with it, most of it anyway. We stepped into the two level old house and the smell of musty vinyl albums engulfed us. "Oh, smell that?" I asked Jason. I have always loved that musty scent. The wood floors creaked beneath our feet, which I thought was interesting since this was a radio studio. I guess I assumed everything would be quiet and muted, not creaky and cracky. It gave the place a sort of attitude in my mind. Like it was saying, the coolness of what we are doing here surpasses any little creaks you might catch in passing (which I learned don't get picked up in the studios anyway - duh Abby).

We walked up the stairs to the second level. Some of the heavy wooden doors were closed, some doors were open. The hallway was lined with shelves of vinyl albums. The ceilings were high, hallways wide. There was a second-story porch through the screen door at the end of the hall. You could hear the cicada. The guys started setting up their gear in the studio. "The air conditioners broke in the studio, so it's gonna be hot." They weren't kidding either. But this was radio, so the dripping sweat didn't really matter.

A shorter skinny man dressed in black, except for the brown belt that was pulled tightly around his waist with a long salt and pepper beard and long hair in the back walked from here to there with a CD or an album in his hands. He looked down the entire time, didn't make eye contact, and didn't catch my joke when I told him he owed me a dollar for holding the door open for him. He sat at a little desk in the hallway and put headphones on. "What's he doing?" I asked Michael. "He's logging all the incoming material."

There were smiles on all the faces, even though it was hot. They played loudly and with heart, sweat dripping off every single one of them. Jason read an excerpt and once again had me captivated by the origins of Walter. They kept the door to the studio open because the air conditioner was broken in there. Smart move. I stood in the entryway and felt the thick heat pulse out the doorway. I sat in the chair by the desk in the hallway when it was vacated. I felt cool for being there. But really, what had I done? Nothing but make sandwiches for the guys before the interview. But still, I felt cool just being a part of this. And then I started thinking about my ego. It was all about ego, and could I just let it go? Probably not. And then, God damn it, I started thinking about Harper. I imagined this experience if she were alive. Would we even be there? Probably not. I would probably be at home with her, putting her to bed because they didn't even start playing till 9 p.m.

But then I also imagined me holding her baby weight against my hip, pointing to her daddy and to her uncle Jason in the studio, clapping her hands together to the music, laying her down in her carrier so she could sleep while I listened, stepping out on the porch with her if she started to fuss. I thought about a conversation I had with my aunt Phoebe years ago. "You can take your kids with you anywhere," she had reassured me. You get to choose what kind of parent you will be. Your kids can be a part of your life too, it doesn't have to be that they call the lifestyle shots. I wondered if that's the kind of parent I would have been or not. Would Harper have gone to her daddy's gigs? God knows she would have to have gotten used to music and loud sounds. That was something Jeremy and I had talked about too. Naive? Maybe you're laughing because you have children and you know something we don't. But maybe we also would have parented our own way. Who knows?

But the evening was rich. It was rich as it was, just Jeremy and me with family and good friends. And I was thankful for that. And it made me wonder, would I want to give this up? Does it have to be either or? Was my ego holding on to how cool I felt because without that I would be pining for something else, something that hurt too much? Maybe. Or maybe I could just accept that this is my life now. This is my life now. No comparisons to what might have been or what might be. Right here and now is where I am. And I was thankful. And I guess that's a pretty good place to be, huh?