I (state your name)...

This isn't my first blog. I used to write "Don't Print This." I did a limited run blog about Fraggle Romance called "Fraggle Love" --that one you can still read, but I've packed "Don't Print This" up, at least for now.

I don't necessarily advise anyone read "Fraggle Love." It contains semi-graphic muppet sex and is just bad... bad.

Me doing an actual radio show sort of came from out of the blue and I was cynical about it from the beginning.

"The boss wants to see if we can do some local programming," my boss said. "Send me your ideas."

I kind of put it off, but then we kept having talks where we discussed automation and how our hours as part-time announcers would or would not be cut. Honestly, nobody knew.

"If you've got any ideas," she said. "We should talk about them."

I panicked. I kind of need the work just to keep up with expenses. I don't necessarily want to work two jobs, but it's that or live under a bridge.

I pitched two ideas: One was a series of specials for October about odd, unusual, spooky, weird stuff in the state.

That seemed like the best bet, actually. I'd done that and it seemed like it involved the least amount of stress to the system.

She didn't much like it.

The second one was to do a music show with some interviews. The music would be alternative and independent type rock and country. The original pitch was broad and nebulous and could mean almost anything --but it got me on base.


"What would you call it?" She asked.

I had no idea. I really had no idea. Usually, I'm pretty good with giving things names, but I bombed at this. I tried a couple of different things and each time I asked someone what they thought, they'd make a face like I'd passed gas. Nothing worked and because nothing was working, the pilot wasn't getting made.

You can't make a show without a name. The title is the thing. It had to at least say what it is to the person who is trying to create it.

It's funny: a couple of months later and I can't remember any of the names I came up with. All I remember is I had two bad ones nobody much liked and then Jim said, "I've thought about it. What about 'Lost Highways?'"

I could see the words in my head on a black background; the script written in a dirty white the color of faded headlights. I could feel the mood of the show --late night radio with darker, grittier music that shouldn't get played much during the day. The delivery, however, would be relaxed, friendly; like what you'd hope to get from the guy in the dirty shirt pouring coffee at an all-night diner.


I loved it. 

Reinvention

The Public Radio station where I work started another campaign a week or two ago called, "Why I stayed." 
Because social media is such a huge thing, the station was asking people to explain their reasons for not bailing on the state and maybe going someplace where life would probably be at least a little easier.

The first time I played the promo, I sent Dave, the guy who voiced the announcement, a note telling him the reason I stayed was because of Tudor's Biscuit World and their Rocket biscuit. This is a gigantic biscuit the size of your fist stuffed with chicken fried steak, egg, cheese and potato.

I told him it completed me. It made me whole.

I also told him I was a fan of the Golden Eagle, which is a biscuit with Canadian bacon instead of chicken fried steak.

I thought it was funny.

He didn't respond.

I'm a jerk.

I suspect the reasons why I stayed in West Virginia are like a lot of others: they're complicated. I stayed because I got married. Then I stayed because I got divorced. Then I stayed because my ex took the kids and moved away. Then I stayed because my kids moved back. Then I stayed because I got married again. Then I stayed because I got divorced.

I've wanted to leave West Virginia for almost as long as I've lived here, which is now more than half of my life.

Aside from some misadventures in my love life, West Virginia has been mostly kind to me. It let me work in radio and in newspaper. I never made much money doing either one, but I don't know that another place that would have let me be as slipshod and as bad as I've been here.

I'm not saying I'm awesome now. I am saying I used to be a lot worse.

Staying in West Virginia provided me with some opportunity --as long as I was willing to try hard, as long as I was willing to put up with some grief for the trouble.

I suspect that's true for a lot of people.

Right now, I'm really at a crossroads in my life. There are forces directing me to leave (the mortgage I can't afford), just as there are new forces asking me to stay (this radio show that I'm embarking on).

Crossroads, both real and imaginary, are good places for stories to begin. I'm not sure where this story will go. I'm not even sure what management will think once they get wind that I'm doing this. They didn't explicitly state that I couldn't write about this radio show or my life involving it.

I'm doing it anyway.

I guess I should send Dave another note. I should apologize and tell him I'm trying to find a reason to stay, that as awfully ungrateful as it sounds, I need another reason. The old ones have worn thin.

But I probably won't send him anything. The thing about staying for the Tudor's Biscuits is pretty funny and I do like them a lot.