... Terrence Deal was a person that was not easily forgotten.  Tall, bulky without being fat, with a face that could only be described as angular.  His somewhat narrow eyes, a sharp nose and chin, and skin the color of strong tea belied his mixed heritage. 

 

His mother had been on vacation, celebrating her divorce from a marriage she'd never really been very enthusiastic about.  Her husband had been a fine.  But that was all ... just fine.  Nothing exciting about him.  He belonged to the right club and offered her a house in the suburbs with a mini-van, a dog, and 2.2 kids.  But the kids never came.  She assumed it was her fault, and they had drifted apart, finally agreeing to separate and divorce without malice.  No fireworks, no gnashing of teeth over property, though she had gotten the house, not even thousands of dollars for the lawyers.  Just like the marriage.  Tepid, no conflicts, no spark.

 

She had sold the house and traveled, and slept with several men.  Vacation sex, she had called it when talking to a friend over a scratchy international connection from a small island in the Bahamas.  But nothing exciting, really, until Jonas  Deal.

 

Jonas made her feel like a teenager.  She stayed in the islands longer than she had expected to, with Jonas at her side.  Her large, strong lover the color of mohogany.  And when she finally left for home, she didn't know she carried a piece of Jonas inside her.

 

She'd tried to contact him, but to no avail.  The owner of the outdoor bar where Jonas had sometimes worked said he'd shipped out on a freighter to South America and then Australia, and she never heard from Jonas Deal again.

 

Terrence knew the story of his heritage, but had never met his father.  He was seven when his mother met and finally married the man he called dad.  A fine man with a house in the suburbs, a minivan, and a desire for 2.2 kids.

 

Terrence didn't walk so much as he glided.  He moved with the easy gait of an athlete, though when the freshman football coach came looking for him, he declined to try out for the team.  He didn't keep to himself, but there were few of the kids in school who he would genuinely call friends.  He was well liked, but could be aloof.  He studied hard, granduated with honors, went to college, and discovered it wasn't for him.

I'm finally back.  It's been a grueling two weeks of pledge drive, but it's nearly over.  I only hope we raise the money we need.  Our listeners usually come through, so I'm feeling fairly confident it'll be ok.

 

I don't think I've explained that I make my living in public radio.  It's not something that I really sought, but it's something I love.  Commercial radio is such a disappointment any more.  It's where I started, but there is so little creativity left in it any more.  And the shows that have a possibility to be creative do tend to appeal to the least common denominator.  Sometimes people who I know are intellegent people say they listen to the most god-awful stuff.  I guess it takes all kinds.

 

It really seems a shame what has happend to most of the radio business over the past 20 years or so.  There is far more crap than quality.  I suppose that's why I'm so drawn to public radio, and had been listening for a long time before I actually got into the business.  While I may not agree with everything that's said, and I vehemently disagree with some of it, at least I have to engage my brain.

 

But I'm not so sure about the fundraising in this area.  Maybe it's indicitive of the south as a whole. But with as many people as listen for as long as they listen, you'd think they'd be a little more generous.  But somehow, they manage to hang on through every appeal and not make a pledge.  Thank god for the 4 or 5 percent that actually will pick up the phone and call.  Thank you all.