A roller coaster of epic proportions
March 11, 2007

The last week has taken our little family on a roller coaster of epic proportions, as my baby boy, Matthew, was called up from the bench to sit in for the departing Penn Jillette.  Those are some big shoes to fill.  It was a moment that Matt has dreamed of- a chance to get into a daily rhythm, to hit new ears….to get better.  Drew Hayes, skipper of WCKG, did not call the parents until he had called Matthew on Friday, March 2.  This was not the promise of a permanent shift- it was a chance to work daily, to help out in emergency.  Matt is two quarters away from graduation, and like most college kids, his classroom time is concentrated in the p.m. half of the clock.  Conflicts abounded.  Of course, Matt said he would be thrilled to do it.  He just had a few (1000) loose ends to tie up.  And so my very shy, under-the-radar-at-DePaul son headed out to the ivory tower to negotiate with the forces of enlightenment. 

Dad was thrilled and proud.  Like Matt, he understands that the nexus between a degree in communications and a radio show is made of vapor.  He accepted Matthew’s fallback position that if no one on campus enabled his new opportunity, he could still eventually finish his studies.  He could “walk” in graduation, and fill in the credits during the summer or next fall. The delay was the cost of doing business.  Our celebratory family pilgrimage to Maui in June to mark the end of college tuition payments as well as the elation of getting three spirited boys through 3 fine universities could be anticipatory.  It was a chance.  Matt had to do it. Steve certainly would have.

Mom, too, was thrilled and proud.  Unlike Dad, this Mom knew that you cannot allow Matthew a fall back position if you want a certain outcome.  I was left to be the shrill voice insisting that he negotiate until his professors had to conspire with him to get his radio wings. He was to graduate in June.  Or else. It was a slightly edgy weekend for the parents.  When the boys came to Sunday dinner, I had the chance to threaten, cajole, cry, and dictate to my midday DJ-to-be. 

 I gave him a template of possibilities to fling upon learned ears:  independent study, incompletes, extra papers, alternate class attendance, lectures on tape, seminars, conferences, research.  Turns out, Matt had thought about all of them.  His advisor had already helped him re-cobble his final quarter’s schedule.  Mike Conklin, of Chicago Tribune fame, also one of Matt’s professors, offered to help him with independent studies.  By Monday only his Poli Sci prof had not been approached.  This class was smack dab in the day part Matt was offered.  It was beyond the date for dropping.  This man had the right to fail Matthew if he missed the final 2 weeks of class, even if he turned in all assignments.  Ironically, Matthew loves the class- he relishes abstract discussions of modern philosophers.  Like most snippy collegians, he tries to slip Kant and Aristotle into his arguments with me. I am not existentialenough to respond.  

At any rate, this professor postponed his meeting repeatedly during the day on Monday.  He had dental work- a bad omen, as dental work makes everyone crabby.  Matthew became more nervous, pacing endlessly to keep his acid reflux from taking over.  9:00 pm was the fallback appointment.  Matthew called en route for a pep talk.  This direct encounter was out of character for him, and he was beyond stressed.  Turns out, all is well in the universe.  His teacher offered him a lifeline:  if he retained his B-B+ average with his third paper, the teacher would allow him to miss class and accept a lower grade.  That is a fine compromise.  Everyone hurts a bit; everyone wins a bit. 

The third paper was on Dostoevsky’s Notes from the Underground.  I skimmed the paper.  I confess I have no idea what the point of Dostoevsky’s contradictory and confusing ramblings mean; I am relieved that the esoteric portion of my life occurred when the sap in my brain was not congealed.  My theory was that the Russian writers lacked sunshine, and drank too much to have a happy thought.  That analysis did not coincide with Matt’s thesis.  I feel that he believes my English degree is a sham.  I realize that my contact with World Lit happened in the vacuum of zero contact with the world at large.  I should probably go back and read all the classics.  Or the Spark Notes.

To make this long story short:  Matt has learned more about the pursuit of happiness from this experience than I could anticipate.  Good fortune is rarely scheduled conveniently, and good things require work, dedication, compromise and the support of others.  Last week, I heard Jennifer Hudson telling her fans “If you can dream it, you can achieve it!” more times than I could count.  She omitted the part about all the work, the sacrifices and the heartbreak.  Matt has worked for four years on his Saturday show.  He never says no to an appearance.  He will work a board, and take any shift.  He is certainly helped by his Dad’s position, but he is also held to a higher standard. 

Thank you to anyone at the station or DePaul who helped Matt grab this chance.  Thanks to Robert Feder for not cannibalizing him.  (That said, I pray he won’t use letters to do this in surrogacy-Matt is only 21!) Thank you to all who will give him the chance to blossom before your ears.  Listen.  The way I see it- he is a young voice.  I fell in love with a young (squeaky) voice 30 years ago.  I stuck to him, he stuck to his dreams, and we have both had a wonderful time, occasionally punctuated by despair and crisis.   If radio is to have a lifeline, we need a farm team. We need to nurture new voices, and not succumb to shocking or stunting short cuts.  Matt has only tiptoed into this shift.  No promises were made.  But he can learn and grow.  And CKG has re-claimed an hour of local programming.  I believe that, too, is cause for celebration.