Dear Ira Glass,
The first time I heard your voice I was in high school. I don't remember the stories of the particular episode, but I do distinctly remember losing myself while driving. I mean, I was still driving, along the 5 south freeway in San Diego, most likely from working at the library, passing the Calvary Baptist Church and it's pink walls, and Chicano Park with its contested narrative...
I was committed to your show thereafter. I made sure to notch out Sunday afternoons, and keep my schedule clear an hour before your show, and an hour after your show.
I remember turning my volume up nearly full.
I remember opening my windows so the neighbors would hear and hopefully connect with me. I recall popping my head out the window often when amused or when struck with epiphany, usually in hopes to catch someone listening along... but that never happened.
I remember laying on my back staring up at the ceiling... or closing my eyes to type out the letters and words in my head to make sure I remembered moments of catharsis, feelings of empathy.
Your show taught me the art of the pause, the mastery of writing, and the sleekness of editing.
You continue to be my ace in the hole, I try not to share your strategies too often, but these days, I find myself returning to your tips more and more, and it's not like I haven't committed the points to memory, it's just that I find you're like a friend that's always there...anyway.
Even though I'm not the filmmaker or storyteller that I aimed to be when I was 16, your perseverance and ethic still gives me hope....
Again thank you.