You don't always hear the laughter.

One of my favorite things to do on the radio is a two to three minute vignette about a weird news story.  In fact, the segment is called "The Weird Story."  To begin the segment, I have my co-host read a strange news item and then, using different voices to depict each character, I perform an embellished, dramatic reenactment of whatever my twisted mind imagines really happened at the scene.  The reenactment borders on lunacy.  Although I'm fairly sure I won't be receiving a life time achievement award in drama, I do enjoy the occasional responses I receive from listeners.

I still have one such written response.  It is a letter from a mother letting me know what a difficult time she was having with her then teenage son; which, if you have teenagers, it's like complaining that fire does indeed burn.  She wrote that the only time she and her son bonded was in the car, on the way to school, while listening to "The Weird Story".  Once at school, her son would wait to get out of the car just to finish listening to it with her.  She wrote they laughed together and would talk about it later during dinner.  She felt she had found a way in.  "The Weird Story" had become a common thread that she used to open the lines of communication with an otherwise silent teenager.

At times in my life, I have had an exaggerated sense of self-importance.  But, in actuality, that sense of self-importance may be what any performer needs in order to get on a stage or broadcast a live radio show, at least initially.  When I'm on the radio, I never hear the laughter of the audience, so I don't know if what I'm doing is funny, relevant or even meaningful to anyone else.  Sure, radio stations receive ratings on a periodic basis, but those are only numbers on a piece of paper.

About two months before she sent me the letter, her son had died in a car accident.  Even after he died, she continued to listen every morning to "The Weird Story" because, as she wrote, "I can still hear his laughter."  In her letter, she thanked me for bringing the two of them closer together.  I still choke up, after all of these years, re-reading the letter.  In my mind, it is the most profound and rewarding gift I have ever received for radio entertainment.  That letter still drives me to be better everyday.