Airwaves and words: The ties that connect us

When I was in my mid-20s, I moved from Alberta to Nova Scotia. A job was waiting for my partner, but I was heading into a void. I knew no one where we were going; it was old fashioned methods of connection that saved me from isolation and loneliness.

I found that connection first through CBC Radio. I knew that the Peter Gzowski morning show that I was listening to in Bedford would soon be on in my mother’s kitchen in Edmonton, and later in our afternoons we would both have the pleasure and enjoyment of Vicky Gabereau’s wit and charm on air. Though I was thousands of miles away, I felt connected to my mother through the radio.

The other connection came via a letter that a friend in Edmonton had sent to an acquaintance of hers in Bedford. We all three were involved in the abortion rights movement and that letter from Sheila in Edmonton to Kathy in Bedford opened the door for me to a vibrant community of feminist women in Halifax and Nova Scotia among whom I made many good friendships, some of which have lasted through today.

The old fashioned radio plugged into the socket in the wall of my kitchen connected me across the miles to my family, and the old-style hand-written letter sent through snail mail gave me a door into my new community.

The process of connection was slower back then and required more effort than it does today with the speed of Facebook, Instagram, and LinkedIn and, maybe, for that very reason was all the more valuable for me.

I don’t mean to romanticize the pre-digital age. There is much that is splendid about the lightening-speed communication and connection we can enjoy these days via cell phone, texting, email and the internet. But there was something, now special, about putting words on the page with handwriting in ink, slipping the letter into an envelope, and popping it into a red box on the street, knowing that it would eventually arrive at the recipient’s address for them to enjoy. Until their reply to me was delivered to my address via the same laborious process, I had the happy joy of imagining them reading my words and anticipating their news in reply and then receiving their letter in an envelope I would hold in my hands before slitting it open.

As for the radio, I remember arranging many a Sunday morning around what was coming up on CBC’s Sunday Edition with Micheal Enright and would often plan a kitchen chore I could do while enjoying his 3-hour mix of current affairs and cultural interviews interspersed with interesting music. Today, I have no need for such planning as I can catch any show (and any segment) anytime via the CBC Listen app on my phone, which I love and use a lot. But gone is the knowledge that I am listening to the same interview in real time with anyone else in my community. Maybe that doesn’t matter.

The fact that I can now carry around the voices of CBC radio in my pocket, playing them on my phone, is hugely convenient. Indeed, I can be listening to them while I am tapping out an email on that same phone and can hit SEND, knowing my message will be delivered instantly to the recipient. I still wait keenly for a reply, of course, and I still never know when that will arrive.

What hasn’t changed is the delight I feel from listening to an enlightening or amusing interview on the radio or from receiving a message — via any channel — that has been written expressly for me. Maybe that is at the core of these musings: When the voice coming over the airwaves speaks directly to me, I am at once in intimate contact with that voice and also in conversation with a larger world. While when a message is written and sent only to me, I am connected to that specific one person in a private and personal way, unique to us two. Different experiences, but reflective of the same core intention: To express words that are, deliberately, intended to forge a connection between and among individuals. And I gladly embrace that any day, whether via my phone or my laptop, or an old fashioned radio show or snail-mail delivered letter.

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One reason that I write is to connect with readers. To that end, my latest personal essay, published in the Globe and Mail on August 30, has elicited some interesting comments from stranger-readers. It is always so interesting to learn how my writing has sparked the thinking of those who read it. You can read my essay online or as a PDF.

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Land acknowledgement: I respectfully recognize that I live on the original lands of Anishinaabe, Cree, Oji-Cree, Dakota and Dene peoples, and on the homeland of the Métis Nation.

Photo by Indra Projects on Unsplash