Back in March, my eighth grade son travelled with his school orchestra to the state capitol to play in the rotunda. This was the farthest he has travelled solo and I was a bit anxious. It was going to be a long day - an early departure and a late return. He would need lots of....electronics to make the travel time go faster. His backpack contained his mp3 player, tablet, a book and a modern day extension of my umbilical cord - his cell phone.
The texts started coming almost as soon as the bus pulled away from the school. "I hate this", "It's too loud, I can't hear", "Someone just passed gas”. While I was happy to hear from him, the complaints were not the 'I miss you mom' I would have preferred and became a little much. I encouraged him to talk to his friends and try to have fun.
The phone went silent for a while and I was about to enjoy a few moments alone in my house, which never happens. I kicked off my shoes turned on 'The View' - wondered who these people were and what happened to Whoopi, when my phone buzzed.
The text read, "I knew something would go wrong".
My mind began racing. Did someone get sick? Did they break down? Were they in an accident?
"WHAT HAPPENED?", I typed as quickly as I could.
"I forgot my sheet music!" (frowny face) was his reply. "I am a disgrace to my state."
Now if you knew my son, like I know my son, his text was no surprise. For as smart as he is, he is not the most responsible. Before I could write, "Well, you made sure you had everything that needed charged before you left", he wrote, "I know what you are going to say - I brought this on myself."
Ok. I was thinking that, but I knew he was upset and now was not the time to point fingers. How could I help? Could I take photos of the music and send those? Was there Wi-Fi in the rotunda? Could he use his tablet to pull up the images? And then my light bulb went off.
State Senator Jim Brewster - yeah, I'll call him. Maybe he can step away from the budget crisis and help me solve this orchestra crisis. I was desperate and before I could say impasse, I Googled the number and was on my way to a solution.
A woman named Ranee answered the phone. I asked, "Ranee, how far away is your office from the rotunda?" She said, "Less than a minute walk." Bingo. I explained my situation and from the start she was on board. Getting this music scanned and emailed to her took some time. (I did not know we were dealing with nine pages!) But with minutes to spare before their performance, she arrived to save the day. She said she recognized my son because he was the only one who looked like he needed help.
I tried to express my gratitude as best as I could, but nothing could convey how much she meant to me after what we went through. She said, "I'm a mom to a US Soldier and have had a few mom's take care of him when he was across the country! So it's the least I can do…from one mom to another."
Thursday, July 28, 2016
Friday, July 22, 2016
Free Willy Days
Before my career went strictly to the print side of media, I spent some time in radio. I was hired to do traffic and news reports by Metro Networks in Pittsburgh back in 2005, and had the opportunity to fill listeners in on tunnel back-ups and accidents.
Although most of the employees at the time worked out of our Greentree studios, some worked at the radio station they provided traffic for. I occasionally would fill in for the full time reporters when they were sick or on vacation. This is how I came to meet Chilly Billy.
The traffic for the former oldies station WJAS-AM was done from their studios, also in Greentree. When I began training, I was so excited about working among two local legends, Jack Bogut and Chilly Billy. You don't get bigger or better than these two, and I have to say for both of them, you don't get any classier.
I occasionally did traffic during Bogut's 6-10 a.m. morning show. Around 9:30, Bill would come in to prepare for his 10 a.m. to 2 p.m. shift. I remember sitting in my studio, which was sandwiched between the WJAS and WSHH studios, watching him arrive. I could see him through the windows that separated us and I would anxiously wait to meet his gaze. He always seemed happy to see me, like an old friend who he had not seen in a long time.
For me, 9:30 to 10 a.m. was very busy. Rush hour was coming to a close and I had quite a few reports to do. It was a shame because those reports were the last thing I wanted to be doing. I could hear the two legends catching up, swaping stories about their families and reminiscing about their colorful careers. There was plenty of laughter during those 30 minutes and I wished I was with them - not participating - just being able to listen in on the stories about things they had heard and seen over the years.
I would always stop in at 10:00 a.m. to say hello to Bill. We would have about 3 minutes to talk during the news break before he would begin his show. He would ask about my kids - I would ask how he was feeling and inquire when he going on his next getaway. I was always amazed that first - I was having a conversation with someone in their 80's, and second, with someone who was so well known. I mean Chiller Theater - Studio Wrestling, this guy was the tops. But he treated me like I, was the tops.
I happened to be filling in at WJAS on my mother's 60th birthday. I had the idea to have Bill call her and sing to her. I was a little hesitant to ask because I wasn't sure how he would feel about it, but I thought, what the heck, this would make her day. Bill did not hesitate when I presented my request. He treated it like it was an assignment and he asked for as many details as he could about her to make the experience as personal as possible. I was able to watch the entire phone conversation and honestly, I don't know who enjoyed it more. Seven years later, my mom still talks about that special phone call and how exciting it was to talk to Chilly Billy.
The funny thing most people don't know about radio, unless you're in the business, is that the pay is not that great. People hear your voice on the radio and they think you are raking in the cash. In the final days of oldies music on WJAS, before the station was sold and they went to all talk, employees were being asked to take days off without pay. If jocks had a regular show and they were talking a week's vacation, that week's show would be prerecorded by the jock. This is the state of radio. Bill had a phrase for his days off - Free Willy Days.
These guys were not in it for the money. They did it because they loved it. They craved that connection with the listeners and felt honored to still be gracing the Pittsburgh airways.
For me, doing fill in work at WJAS was not easy. I had to be there by 5 a.m. and usually left afterwards to pick up my kids or head to my regular job. I already mentioned the pay. But for nine years I accepted the WJAS shifts that came my way. The opportunity to work with people like Jack Bogut and Chilly Billy, in my mind, was priceless. I knew it wouldn't last forever and I enjoyed every moment I spent with them and was proud that I could hold my own. My life was enhanced because of those opportunities. I will always look back fondly and with gratitude.
I was saddened when I saw Lori Cardille's post on Facebook a few weeks go about her father's recent cancer diagnosis. My intention was to send a card and tell him how much I admired his eternal positivity and how, because of his attitude and love of life, I had no doubt he would be able to get through this rough patch.
The chance to send my card for him to read has passed.
So I am left with these words to comfort my soul. In his memory I am going to make more of an attempt to do the things that should not be put off. A call, a card, a compliment - the time is now.
To his family, I extend my deepest sympathies for their loss. He will be missed by many but the void he has left in their hearts will never be filled.
Hopefully, moving forward, we can all keep Bill's memory alive. A kind word, a smile, a laugh - this is what makes life worth living. Bill had a great smile and a great laugh. He had a great career and he was one that certainly deserved it.
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