Finding Clarity in a Car with a Broken Radio

David, by Donatello

I recently acquired (as in bought) a new used car. My Honda Pilot had reached the 200,000 mile zone and has some strange technical issues, no doubt due to sensors and all this new-fangled technology. So I picked up a Kia Soul for the price of a song, and though it has its own set of quirks, I like it. One thing it lacks, however, is a radio.

I still drive the Honda one day a week to keep it healthy (cars need exercise as much as humans do) and yesterday I ran errands in the Pilot. It's strange though. After driving a car without a radio for the last eight or ten weeks, I'm discovering how inane the radio is. I've clearly become accustomed to the silence. Or at least, the absence of radio noise. It's a pleasure to be accompanied by the diversions in my mind.

For more than two decades I listened to audiobooks, which ended when the Honda's CD player went kaput. For the past couple years I've been listening to radio, but after a couple months without it, I've come to relish its absence. 

This newfound appreciation for silence has been a revelation. Driving my Soul, with only the hum of the engine and the rhythms of the road, feels like a mental reset. My thoughts wander freely—often accompanied by an internal soundtrack as backdrop.

It’s as if the absence of radio chatter has unlocked a quieter, more introspective space. The Honda’s radio now feels like an intrusion, or worse. Boring. There's almost nothing new. NPR has its agenda and set of "approved" messaging, AM talk radio stations have theirs, but it's all melted down. I’ve started to wonder if the constant noise was drowning out something more valuable: the chance to just be with my thoughts.

Programs urge, "Listen to me so I can tell you how to think." Others compete for your attention in order to deliver their sponsors' advertising. (Radio is free so someone has to pay, and that's what the advertisers do.)

Disclaimer: I stopped watching television when I turned 16 in 1968. It seemed so artificial and superficial in light of more profound issues we as a nation (and I as an individual) were dealing with.

This shift has me rethinking how I engage with my drives. I've decided to skip the radio repair altogether. It’s funny how a car bought for a steal, quirks and all, has led to this unexpected clarity. Perhaps the Kia’s lack of a radio isn’t a flaw but a gift, nudging me toward a quieter, more mindful way of moving through the world.

Remembering Don Vogel, "The Round Mound of Sound"

When Susie and I returned from Mexico we made ends meet by joinging a group of painters who did apartment painting throughout the Twin Cities. For four years we painted apartments and sometimes houses. I worked full time and Susie several days awake She was the best trim painter of all the guys I worked with those years. She was careful and fast and I never had to worry about her workmanship.

Much of the time we listened to talk radio shows that aired on KSTP, though I often listened to audio books, primarily short stories by classic authors. My aim was to learn the craft of storytelling. 

All this to say that there were a couple of radio personalities that made an impression on me during that time. I can't remember the one fellow's name but he struck me as having been a Renaissance Man of sorts and philosopher as he interacted with callers. 

The second was a man who was known as "the Round Mound of Sound." His name was Don Vogel, and his style was simply enjoyable. He made you feel like you were a warmly welcomed guest in his world, which was broadcast during drive time from 4:00 - 6:00 pm, Monday through Friday.

On one occasion he had a guest from the circus that was in St. Paul at that time. She got up on the table and did tricks that would astound you as he described her flexibility passing her tiny frame through a small hoop. He was getting a kick out of it all, you could tell.

I also remember his reading of the news, the shuffling of paper (the way Rush Limbaugh would later do) and his descriptions of the weather. 

On one occasion I was driving home from a day of painting when I happened to see the KSTP radio station and tower off to my right. I was listing to Don's show right at that very moment and thought it might be cool to go tell him in person, perhaps during his next break, how much I loved his show. So I took the next exit and circled back to the shack with the radio tower and KSTP sign. 

Don Vogel

I didn't know what I planned to say, but entering the building I could see him through the glass in a room rocking with enthusiasm, headphones on, microphone properly fixed in front of his round face. A woman came over to me to ask what I wanted, but now I was speechless. She knew what I was thinking. She'd seen this before... the recognition that this cheerful man who painted such vivid pictures of our world was blind. 

There was a sense of reverence in her tone. The entire staff seemed instilled with it. The guy was just having fun, doing his thing. And though I never did meet him face to face, I felt honored to be in his presence for that brief space of time. 

Here's an excerpt from a tribute to Don that I found online today:

Don Vogel, "the round mound of sound," "stone blind and out of his mind," was the proprietor of the "Afternoon Saloon," a talk show in the 4-6 p.m. drive time slot on KSTP-AM 1500. The show created a refuge from the pressures of the day and the controversial issues found on typical talk shows. Don was a master impressionist, a comic genius, and one of the best communicators I've heard in radio. His listeners were affectionately known as the "Don Squad." When he spoke to us, he created a sense of community among the listeners and took great care to see that we were all a part of the conversation, even when he had a caller on the line.

You can find the rest of his story here.

Perhaps you've known someone, or several someones, who have overcome personal disabilities in order to follow their passion and pursue a purpose that exceeds the expectations of everyone around them. I've been blessed to know many. Feel free to share a story or tribute in the comments. 

Who's Got The Power?

Well, last night was interesting here in the Northland. I was watching The Maltese Falcon while organizing some files on my laptop and vwoosh.... suddenly all is dark (except the laptop which reverted to battery mode.) I slipped on some boots, grabbed a flashlight and went out to the road. In all directions, darkness.

It wasn't a fuse, so we were powerless to do anything about it, but it set in motion a number thoughts. First, that I am glad it is early spring and not mid-winter where temps can be minus twenty or thirty at night. Second, at what point will the frozen goods in the freezers need to be dealt with?

In 1979 I spent a year in Puerto Rico, where blackouts and brownouts were a weekly routine. Evidently the infrastructure we take for granted here in the U.S. was not yet a reliable part of life elsewhere, something I did not know due to my limited experience with such things.

In fact, there was a lot I didn't know about Puerto Rico, that many Americans probably didn't, though I did know my favorite baseball player, Roberto Clemente of the Pittsburgh Pirates, was from Puerto Rico. I also knew that the country was under U.S. jurisdiction, and not a free state. But I did not know that Puerto Rico had four political parties. Two wanted the country to break free of the U.S. and become independent. One of these wanted a Capitalist democracy and the other a socialist state. There third political party wanted Puerto Rico become the 51st state in the U.S. and the last group wanted to keep the status quo, which was good for those in power and not so good for the fifty percent who were unemployed.

It was this last group which held the power, and so it is that Puerto Rico remained a "subject" of the U.S. Actually, people born in Puerto Rico are considered U.S. citizens who can vote.

My thoughts flew to Puerto Rico because whenever the power went out, the refrigerators and freezers had to be left closed. After eight hours they would be opened and we'd all eat the semi-melted ice cream, and cook the meat. The younger people all liked the ice cream part and when five or six hours had passed, they were very attentive to the passage of time.

Last night here, we weren't sure how long the power woulf be off. About a half hour after going to bed all the lights came back on, and the radio. Up we jumped, to take care of everything needing attention.

This morning I went online to find a news story about it, but am not seeing anything. A falling telephone pole snapped some lines and put out the power in a section of Salt Lake. The city of Niles had a brief power outage yesterday, as did the Whittier Middle School on Monday, which sent kids home early. There were also power outages due to winds in Monterrey County, CA, and a pickup us truck that hit a pole somewhere else.

We take it for granted, our roads and electricity and cell phones. Our infrastructure, however, didn't appear out of nowhere. Last night we had candles and a lamp to light the house. This is how it had been done for centuries until Edison came along. In the grand scheme of things, our modern era has been but a blip on the most recent page of history. Where it will end up is anyone's guess, but for now, I like it when they keep the power on.