radio killed the sleeping star

I must have been about 5 or 6 years old. I asked my dad what made my ceiling fan turn, and just what he meant when he spoke of electricity. He went on to explain that the fan was powered by little green men on little green bicycles, and this was the power that ran the fan on a pulley system.

His plan worked.

I spent the next several years forgoing simplicities that I had never even considered before. I turned off the fan before going to bed (if I was going to rest, it was only fair to allow the little green men to rest), I turned off lights any time I left a room (so that the light bulb sergeant at arms could take a break), and I ate cold food (so that the little green aliens that powered the microwave wouldn't have to make special trips to my home to heat my broccoli).

However, the one thing I would not give up was radio. If I could only stay up all night long by listening to the radio, then I wouldn't die in my sleep if the house caught on fire.

This idea was abandoned when my brother burned our house down in late afternoon on a Thursday.

Since it happened once, it didn't seem likely to happen again any time in the near future. I got over the fear and got over trying to stay awake at night listening to the radio.

Yet, this did not keep me from listening to the radio during daylight hours. I still did feel guilty about it, since I knew that the artist was forced to go into the recording studio to belt out my favorite song just to let me hear it on the radio. I later forced myself to leash in my selfish listening demands and cut down on my radio hours. Musicians had better things to do with their lives than to just spend the day waiting for me to turn on the radio to hear their voices.

I think I knew more when I was a kid as I do now as an adult. At least, I had better ideas then.