And Now You Know the Rest of the Story

After hearing (what felt like) millions of voices all day at school for years, I treasure quiet.

More accurately, I am now able to take in extraneous noise on my terms, not the noisemaker's.

This hypersensitivity meshes perfectly with my idea of the ultimate 'talk radio' personality, the late Paul Harvey.

His perfectly modulated tone and intelligent journalistic storytelling soothed the frazzled nerves of many people , I am sure, just like me.

In my current lifestyle of selective listening, I don't want someone from my radio shouting at me or shouting at me about others.

Instead I prefer the quiet prospect of considering the human experience, the human interest story, that teaches far more than shouting ever did.

I would rather listen to the car guys on NPR radio ,who laugh about everything and never take themselves or their topic that seriously.

I know nothing about cars, but the earnestness of the caller with the 1962 Volvo and the car guys' consequent peals of laughter is a magical balm for my sometimes worried mind.

Truth be told- when listening, I like filling in the blank myself.

I enjoy pregnant pauses , a clever turn of phrase, and it floats my boat to imagine a raised eyebrow. I don't want, however, someone's eyebrows raised out of anger or punditry.

The arc of a Paul Harvey delivered tale sets the thinking cylinders moving, until that split second of perfect narrative timing:


"And now you know the rest of the story. Good Day."