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 I started listening to Delilah 11 years ago, on one long, arduous late night drive home from college. I had just finished my last final before Christmas break, and I had a tough choice ahead: make the 4-hour drive in the dark, in the rain and wake up in my parents’ home to my dad’s cheesy scrambled eggs, bacon and hash browns, Christmas music in the background and the whole day ahead of me, or spend a lonely night in my apartment (my roommate had already left) with a packet of Top Ramen and wake up to a 4-hour drive, in the rain with a non-satisfying piece of toast for breakfast. I opted for the former, packed as fast as I could and set off for home.
That particular night a brutal wind storm rolled in. We had been warned our power might even go out (another reason for leaving – I’m a teeny scared of the dark, and complete boredom). Not a moment after I had merged onto the freeway, windshield wipers madly thrashing, a small branch tagged the top of my car roof and I jumped! I probably should’ve taken that as a sign to turn back, but I pressed on. The wind howled, the trees bent back and forth – and I had a lot of good practice recovering my car from hydroplaning. Passing the 18-wheelers on a two-lane portion of the highway as they blinded me with sprays of water was the scariest part of the drive. I had to refrain from hating and cursing the big trucks by repeating my parents’ mantra, “If you bought it, a truck brought it.” The income from my parents’ small trucking company foot the bill for my college education, so you can see the dilemma.  Nevertheless, white knuckled and nervous, I finally collected myself enough to realize I was listening to mostly fuzz and static on the radio as my current station fizzled out. I scanned the stations until I heard a soft rock song I recognized, and the idea of something soothing and mellow appealed to me so I set the dial. Then Delilah came on air with a caller, who spoke about a Christmas memory that made me reflect on my childhood, traveling to Grandma and Grandpa’s house with my parents and four older brothers. Next thing I know, I’m crying! In the car, alone. Somewhere around midnight . Missing the good old days when my grandpa was still alive. I was hooked on that station for the next couple hours, and to this day. During that drive home I went through a torrent of different emotions triggered by songs, stories, and probably a little pent-up stress. 
Now here I am, 11 years later, an editor for Delilah’s off-air publications, and enjoying the creative content that comes in every day. Whether it’s a story written by someone on staff, an email from a listener or the inspiring words of Delilah herself, I feel lucky to get my hands on such real, human-interest material and work with such talented people.
Missy |
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