LostReceiver

and a good father. He was quick to laugh and even quicker to tell a joke. He was not
complicated, but rather simple in his needs and his code of life. His religious beliefs were
complicated and his knowledge of history deep. He was everyman’s man and a true
individual. He liked everyone and everyone liked him. He had good days and bad but even
on his worst days he was still a likeable guy. He was a perfect balance of charisma, charm
and honesty that made him distinct among all men.   He did, to a fault, have irreversible
habits and idiosyncratic characteristics that made me both laugh and cry. He had a 50 plus
year smoking addiction. He strongly believed in doing everything himself, a great
attribute, however, overwhelming when you burn the candle at both ends. He never threw
anything away. His ability to clean up after himself was equivalent to that of a teenage
boy. And, of course, he had an absolute inability to pass up a good bargain. He cut coupons
and loved to shop at the 99 Cent Store and Big Lots. Not a high price bargain hunter, but
rather, the small deals like a loaf of bread or a two dollar can of coffee. He was cheap, no
question, but never cheap with his love or support of his family.   This would be an
everlasting legacy.

     So in the progress of cleaning up after the teenage boy, I was not surprised to find a
package from Publishers Clearing House. He would often send for the ‘no obligation’ prize
and magazine offers that came in the mail. Often he would order a product and return it
never opened just to be entered in the million dollar drawing. Inside the box I found a
Bell and Howell fm/mw/sw 9 band world receiver, batteries not included. The radio came
with a bill for $14.95. At first, I didn’t have it all figured out. Why would my dad order
this radio? First of all it is not worth $14.95. He could probably find the same radio at
the dollar store. For my dad, paying $14.95 for such a small, dinky, overpriced radio is
just un heard of. Impossible. And as he would say ‘just downright dumb… DUMB!’
Second, my dad never orders anything through the mail. He is a hands on guy. He doesn’t
trust the photos in the catalogue. If he can’t touch it, play with it or try it on for size he
would never buy it. Buying something sight unseen is not only out of his nature but just
plain absurd. Like a fish deciding to climb Mt. Everest. So why this radio? It’s possible
that it was a total fluke. They sent the radio by accident. Or he accidentally ordered it.
But most likely, he ordered it because by doing so he would be entered into a million dollar
drawing where Ed McMan shows up on your doorstep with a camera crew and a check
physically too big to put in your wallet or deposit in an ATM. The rules might have said, ‘if
completely not satisfied, return the radio at no charge to you’. This amendment to
ordering the radio is the only logical explanation I, at the time, could explain this package I
had opened. I put the radio in a safe place with the intent to send it back for him.

     Three weeks later another bill came in the mail for $14.95 explaining that Publisher’s
did not receive the payment and would you please send it kindly. A few moments passed
where I was a bit perplexed about the entire nature of the bill. After all three weeks
had gone by and so much had happened within that short time that I forgot entirely about
the radio. So immediately, I wonder… What did I do with that radio? I remember finding
it. I remember wondering why my dad bought it. But for the life of me, can’t remember
where I put it. I remember putting it in a ‘safe’ place and as most of us know, a safe
place can be so safe you never find it again. I put the bill aside keeping in mind to look for
the radio and send it back.

     Three weeks after that another bill came in the mail announcing quite angrily that
Publisher’s has not received the payment and your credit line is in jeopardy, we will contact
your bank, we will seize all your credit cards and it will be impossible for you to make a
reservation at any restaurant, don’t fuck with us we are Publisher’s Clearing House, send
us the $14.95 or we will unleash the dogs.

     I didn’t know where the radio was. I couldn’t find it. Publisher’s had scared me enough
to start tearing the house apart in search of my ‘safe’ place.   I finally conceded. With an
apology to my father for paying so much for a stupid little plastic junky radio, I broke out
the check book and sent the bill.

     It has now been three weeks since I mailed off that check and during that time I have
been wondering about that radio. Not only where I had put it but wondering, was there a
bigger picture, a more sensational rationale to that lost radio? Perhaps there is a greater
more ethereal hand guiding the events that led to misplacing that fm/mw/sw 9 band world
receiver. Maybe the radio wasn’t lost but I was lost. Lost in my thoughts. Lost in the
magnitude of losing him. There is a reason I couldn’t find the radio. Something greater
than myself was working the energy in the universe, keeping that radio from being found
and out of my reach because within the radio lay something phenomenal. Could there be a
message waiting for me within the radio? Is the radio a link to my father? Is it truly a
‘world receiver’? Could I actually tune in to my father and hear his voice or have a
conversation with him? This radio was sent by my father. He ordered it. He had it hand
delivered so that I would find it. In a mediocre effort, one night I tuned my car stereo to
a station with nothing by static. I listened carefully for anything that could be my fathers
voice. I spoke to the cold, cold air, somewhat embarrassed, trying to speak with my
father. Was I bending the rules of sanity?

     Today, I decided to clean my room. In the process I discovered the ‘safe’ place I put
that radio. It was on top of my desk, right next to my computer. A place I sit and stare
at everyday. I must have overlooked it countless times. It was right in front of me and
yet I just chose not to see it.

     I opened the box and took it out. Batteries not included. I went for a package of new
batteries I had in my desk drawer, but then, I stopped. What if it doesn’t work? If it
doesn’t work I’ll have to come up with another mechanism to understand how to cope with
losing him. Another unattainable dream. And on the other hand, what if it’s true? What if
when I turn this thing on and I listen long enough that I will hear my dad? What if I can
have a conversation with him? What then?

     I’m at a crossroads. Do I listen? I’m one step closer in knowing the truth of the lost
receiver but not sure if I’m willing to take the risk. I like not knowing. It’s safe. It’s a
safe place to be. My imagination plays out the conversation better than reality ever could.
And perhaps my imagination is where my father truly is. My lost conversations with him can
only be played out in my dreams. It is doubtful that a Publisher’s Clearing House radio can
makes those dreams a reality. Which begs the question of ‘what is real’? What
percentage of our lives are spent dreaming. Are you to tell me that those hours are not
real? My dream is to hear my fathers voice and talk to him and laugh with him and tell him
how much I love him and how I miss him terribly.   Is it crazy to dream that I will have that
from a fm/mw/sw 9 band world receiver?

     As this debate gets older the fantasy subsides. It grows a bit dimmer in the oncoming
light of reason. But reason is not something I’m interested in. Too many foolish choices
have been made due to reason and responsibility. I’m finished with being rational. This is
my moment to forget all the absurd moments where reason has controlled my life. This is
where wonder returns. I invite it in and it begins so easily. I simply insert the batteries
and turn it on. And so it’s done. And so I listen. And listen. And listen.