I miss the radio dedication show. People would phone in, and dedicate songs to one another. This only worked because of serendipity: the voice on the radio would catch your attention by calling you by name like someone in the next room. They’d then say the name of someone that you knew, then play a dedicated song from them. It was a thoughtful gift traveling through waves in the air. The whole thing works under the presumption that you would be listening. Dedications don’t work if we don’t regularly congregate in the same place, so there is a part of me that fears it may be gone forever. What made the whole thing great was a special presence of a felt, but invisible connection. There was a thoughtfulness in the choice of the song, but also in the communal aspect of knowing that everyone else listening to the radio was hearing your song as well. And then it was gone. Vanished, evaporated, and you’re left with that warm feeling when something good passes.

Frank Chimero