Even on the worst of days, it seems like the radio always has something to offer. When I was a young child I remember hearing the radio in the background while my parents and I tried to sleep through the hot balmy nights on the coast. Until I was old enough for school we lived in a remote fishing village called “Hills Harbour” where there were only 3 houses, and 3 families.
I have a ton of memories from being ‘down along’ but none clearer then one particular night when I was sick. I had fever induced seizures growing up and this one night I was awake in bed while Dad strolled back and forth the kitchen, patrolling to make sure I was alright. I remember the front door being open all the way to let ‘fresh air in’. I could see out the doorway from the angle of my bedroom and there was a large boat out in the bay, I remember watching the lights flicker on the boat and hearing the radio in the background, something about the hum of an old guitar, the light breeze across the house, and those lights flickering across the way were so peaceful. It’s perhaps why I remember it so well. Whenever I turn on the radio I slip back into that memory and thank god for the way that I grew up, and that I had such great parents.
Even when I went to school, every morning the radio would be on to hear ‘the fisherman’s broadcast’. When I came home for dinner, it would be on again but I didn’t pay any attention to it at that point. To this day the radio still plays religiously in my parents home, I let out a laugh the last time I heard it because dad told me that he would be hearing me on there someday soon. I hope he’s right.
Writer and photographer from remote Labrador, Canada. Just another cold Labradorian chillin' in the Big Land. Can most likely be found walking my dog Grace or behind an iMac screen slowly taking over the interwebs.