I have this little radio. Not a boom box or a CD player or a dock for my iPod, just a radio. It gets AM, FM, TV broadcast, and Weather reports. It looks like this:
If it looks kind of grungy on your screen, that's because it gets a lot of use and I am not the type to need-the-fingerprints-off-the-radio-because-Martha-Stewart-would! It takes 3 double-A (rechargeable!) batteries, and I also have an adapter for it. I love my little radio.
Anyway, Husband acquired this little radio from Target (it's a Michael Graves design. I would lick Michael Graves' shoes) during the early part of March, 2003. And lest you think I keep a diary of purchases like a Rainman of Small Appliances, I know the date so well because we bought it for my dad, Hank. He was in the Karmanos Cancer Institute at the time. His beloved Red Wings had an upcoming game that would not be televised, and no way was I going to let him miss that. I have posted previously about baseball on the radio, but let's not forget, there's also hockey on the radio.
One of the great things about hospice care: you can get anything you want, like nothing but Wendy's Frosties to eat (to quote his oncologist: That's protein. I can live with that.), and a roomful of family to help you watch Sergei Federov score FIVE FREAKING GOALS IN ONE GAME. Husband shouted, "YES!" after number four. They really frown on that sort of thing in hospitals. And loud cries of ecstatic joy are a little out of character there.
Anyway, that Thursday night's game wasn't going to be televised, so I sent Husband out on the radio-for-Hank errand and he did swimmingly well. We dropped the radio off Tuesday night, after programming in the station that the game was on. On Wednesday evening I went to visit, and it was increasingly clear Hank wasn't going to make it much longer. I spent the night in his room that night because he'd asked us not to let him die alone. My sister came at 6 a.m. so I could go home and get the kids ready for school.
Hank died that Thursday morning, so he never got to use the cool little Target Michael Graves radio. Hank would have been 83 (!) on July 17th this year, and my parents' would have had their 62nd wedding anniversary three days later on the 20th.
If there's a heaven, I'm sure my dad is waiting impatiently for the hockey season to start. Hang in there, Hank. At least you didn't have to experience the lockout. I use the radio for all the games and think of my dad, who used to call between periods to bitch about the officiating. And, Hank, if you have any clout up there, could you please send another Stanley Cup our way? Thanks, Hankie. Miss you.
oh, that was just lovely.
I believe that all bets are off for appropriate behavior in a hospice setting.
Thanks for sharing. I'm sure he is looking forward to hockey season. :-D
Posted by: erin | August 02, 2008 at 09:16 AM
This is why the study of material culture is so interesting... when Stuff is a symbol of people/experiences.
(And thank you for not wiping the radio down. Left to myself, I live in an environment with more fingerprints than a crime scene.)
Posted by: drwende | August 02, 2008 at 09:50 AM
Erin - the nurses sure didn't think so! Although they laughed when Husband looked appropriately sheepish.
drwende - makes me want to print this out and attach it to the little radio for future anthropologists.
Posted by: Middle-Aged-Woman | August 02, 2008 at 10:27 AM
Another Cup? Isn't that getting a little greedy MAW? I think the Canucks are a little more deserving. Last time we had one in Vancouver my grandparents hadn't even been born.
The Frosty reminds me of my grandpa and his rum. At one of his check ups he asked the doctor if it was ok that he still had a drink once in awhile. The doctor said, "Bill, you've been smoking unfiltered cigarettes since you were a teenager (he was in his 80's), you want a shot of rum, you go right ahead."
Posted by: Chad | August 02, 2008 at 11:00 AM
You made me cry...but in a good way.
Posted by: Jenny, Bloggess | August 02, 2008 at 11:06 AM
Chad - My maternal grandfather was one time found living on skid row drinking Sterno from a can. He lived to be 91.
Jenny, Blogess - welcome! Your posts frequently make me cry, after I've passed the giggling, laughing, snorting, and choking stages. Um. That's a compliment.
Posted by: Middle-Aged-Woman | August 02, 2008 at 11:10 AM
Hank was able to impart his love of hockey to at least half his daughters! And two of his granddaughters. One granddaughter who briefly lived in Raleigh, NC is still bitter about the officiating at one of the Hurricanes games that cost her a John Deere tractor. She thinks Mr. Karmanos should make it up to her.
Posted by: TennLady | August 02, 2008 at 04:04 PM
OMG, my father died the week the Red Sox won the 2005 World Series--with a Red Sox button on his pajamas. And when they won, we jumped around and screamed and drank champagne and knew that Daddy--wherever he was--was celebrating, too.
What a lovely post.
(p.s. Thanks for entering my Bloggy giveaway!)
Posted by: Poppy Buxom | August 02, 2008 at 06:42 PM
Poppy - The Wings didn't win the cup that year, but the lockout was soon after, and I just know my dad was spinning in his grave over that one.
Posted by: Middle-Aged-Woman | August 02, 2008 at 08:15 PM
Your awesomeness was featured on BS Sunday on the Houston Chronicle Online: http://tinyurl.com/6c2w4u
Posted by: Jenny, Bloggess | August 17, 2008 at 10:24 AM
Jenny the B. - My awesomeness bows down to your awesomeness!
Posted by: Middle-Aged-Woman | August 17, 2008 at 10:55 AM