the surfacing of a random memory

preface: relax if you're not a baseball fan. i mention the Red Sox but it's not about that, i promise.

i listened to the Red Sox game online tonight. the radio broadcast. it was a pleasant change of pace to hear Joe Castiglione call the game. i love Remy & Don, but this took me back in time...

when i was a kid, we would often be in the car while the Sox were playing. Dad would tune into our local station, WTIC 1080 AM. i remember when it used to be Ken Coleman alongside Joe Castiglione. i remember their voices, and how Dad hated Roger Clemens even then.

but that wasn't the only time WTIC 1080 was playing in the car.

every weekday morning, Dad would load Josh & me into the car, in the early pre-dawn hour, for the ten-minute drive to Gram & Gramp's house, so he could head to work knowing we were well-cared for. even when we were no longer small, we still went to Gram & Gramp's house in the morning, had our breakfast, caught the bus to school (because at home, we would have had to walk, and Dad didn't like that). and each morning, the radio would be tuned to WTIC 1080.

i remember the digital tone that used to sound the top of the hour. i don't recall all the names but i can still conjure up the voices of the sports guys (Arnold Dean & Scott Gray), the news girl (Angela Dias), the meteorologist (Joe Furey), the traffic report guy...

but most of all, i remember Bob Steele.

Bob Steele was such a well-spoken, interesting, intelligent man. he believed in good grammar, and in the correct pronunciation and usage of words, so he had a word of the day. he would provide little tidbits about international weather, and other stories he found interesting. he would toss in a corny joke. he would play classical music, big band and the occasional oldie. and in the winter, we lived to hear him make school closure announcements. his warm, grandfatherly voice greeted me each morning. the predictability of that morning show followed me through my entire childhood & beyond my adolescence into early adulthood. he was like a well-known friend.

those were good mornings. comfortable & familiar. day after day. year after year. the seasons cycling through, one after another. fresh spring mornings. summer mornings, with the sunrise beginning to burn off the fog. crisp exhilarating autumn mornings. cold winter mornings when the heat blasting in the car made me drowsy. it was all so routine back then, but in that cozy way that feels like a warm blanket. i was too young to know that i was building memories i would later look back on, fondly... and sometimes wistfully, with the bittersweet wish that i could go back & revisit them one more time...