Whilst living in Utah these past six years, I have learned certain truths. Hair can be teased to unnatural heights. You can live an entire lifetime while waiting for the light to change. And Utahns don't believe in talk radio.
For some reason, I took talk radio for granted. Growing up in Detroit, it seems like the AM dial was just as loaded as the FM. Not here. I could not for the life of me find a talk radio station. When I did, I wished I hadn't. It was bland, boring, and not interesting.
Then one day, the gods smiled down on me and showed me NPR, the blessed creation it is. I felt culturally enriched, up to date on the news, and downright better towards the world. That is, up until Diane Rehm was on all the time, or at least whenever I could listen to the radio. Her show is broadcast on the local station here for two hours in the morning. Two excruciating hours which completely void out my interest and love for NPR. I love her guests, love the topics. The callers usually have worthwhile questions and comments.
But Diane herself is the problem.
Heaven bless the woman, I'm sure she's been around forever and has done great things for the world of radio broadcasting, but she's old. I'm convinced the show is two hours long because it takes that long for her to get questions out. Her voice is painful, a problematic situation when you work in radio, and I love it when she is away. The guest hosts are typically female, with lovely on-air voices, who engage well with the fascinating guests. There are even occasions when the guest host comes from the BBC and boasts a glorious British accent.
What sparked this outburst against the old and (by the tone of their voice) infirm? I remembered to turn on my radio this afternoon to catch some NPR, thoroughly convinced I had missed Diane. And then, her voice came through the speakers.
She's coming to do a show in Salt Lake.
New truth: Utahns are ginormous gluttons for punishment.