I had a radio with headphones. The cheap headphones with black foamy ear covers. It was not a walkman. We couldn’t afford brand-name stuff. As I recall, it was GE brand. It did not include a tape player. I didn’t own more than a few tapes anyway, and those were mostly bootleg copies only. Christian music only. Stuff I recorded from the radio on my larger radio / tape player combo. But maybe I digress.
That radio with headphones was my escape. I would sit in the yellow hand-me-down beanbag chair for hours, listen, and dissociate. And though my dad threatened to take it from me if ever he found the dial tuned in for anything other than Christian radio, I would still sometimes tune in to the local rock station or country station. I knew how to hide and lie. It wasn’t about rebellion, either. It was my way of remaining authentic in some way – true to myself.
What became of it? I don’t really know.