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Transistor Radio
I heard my Grandpa on my transistor radio, though he turned in his bones 20
years ago. He said, “Kid, there’s something that I’d like to show you. Get
your things, it’s time for us to go.”
So I grabbed my backpack, my flashlight, and a bag of caramel corn. I got
my bicycle and the radio, and I headed on the road. I said, “I’m ready for
what I’m about to see.”
We headed north until rain had turned to snow, through rusty towns and
dusty gravel road. And I said, “Grandpa, where is this thing you wanted to
show me?” He said, “Kid, you got a long way to go.”
So I went through canyons, caves and catacombs. I sailed on bicycle boats. I
slept in chapels and brothels (I met the nicest folks). I said, “I’m ready for
what I’m about to see.”
I heard Grandpa on my transistor radio. He said, “Kid, it’s time for me to go,
and I know that there was something that I wanted to show you, but it’s
time for you to find it on your own.”
Let me tell you about rage, when his signal died that day. There’s nothing
out there, and I don’t care if they take my life away. I’m not ready, and I
don’t want to see.
It’s been years since I’ve heard my transistor radio. Yet I keep going to
where it seems I’m meant to go. And I finally realize what he wanted to show
me… where I am and where I’ve been is the show.