A New Kind Of Music

Growing up can be tough. Especially with a punk-rock radio host for a mom. And without a dad around.
I listen to NPR and imagine how my life would be different if my mother hosted a show for them instead of our community radio station. I never know what she’ll say on the air. She’ll talk about her period, strange dates, weird people at bowling alleys, anything. Everyday I worry she’ll talk about my acne or something personal about me. She’d be more careful about what she says
if she worked for a respectable station. On school days, I set my radio alarm to NPR. The first time she heard the radio click on in the morning, she came to my room and said, “NPR! I knew you’d be rebellious one day, but NPR! You’re fourteen and enjoy NPR. That is so weird.” I could hear her saying “NPR” over and over until her coffee was finally ready. Then she calmed down. Somewhat. If only she knew who was really weird.