When I was in high school I started driving a car. This was in Dallas, Texas. The car symbolized total freedom — I could go where I wanted. I could list to the music I wanted. My car was way too decrepit to handle an iPod, so what did I do? I started fiddling with the radio dial. Sometimes I listened to K104, the hip hop station. Other days I listened to Mix 102.9. And most mornings I tuned in to KERA, our NPR member station.<\/p>\n
Of course, the vehicle was not without responsibility. Each day I was tasked with the job of chauffeuring my little sister to and from our school. She must’ve been 12 or 13 years old. I’d usually roll into the car, hair tousled, clutching a giant travel mug of tea and a piece of toast. Mary Frances would spend the morning preening, and I’d wait impatiently, starting the engine or occasionally blaring the horn.<\/p>\n
Except on Friday mornings. Without fail, Mary Frances would be ready–backback stowed, seatbelt buckled, radio on– by 7:27 a.m., in time for Story Corps<\/a>. She loved that program. I think one time it made her cry. I remember laughing with her as an Eastern European woman talked about her first Halloween in America. It was a neat thing for us to share, and I remember thinking how cool it was that my sister–who I would venture to say is not an atypical teenager–was moved by these little narratives.<\/p>\n
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