Did Video kill the Radio Show
We seem to be losing the art of how to listen. Maybe we began losing it when we became enamoured with all things video. Maybe video is killing the radio show! I was thinking back to a time recently when as a kid I listened to Children’s Radio from 7am-9am on a Sunday morning. It was such an eagerly awaited day and time.
Why? Well, there were my childhood favourite stories like ‘Sparky and the Talking Train’ written by Alan Livingston (who also adapted “Little Toot”), Dr Seuss’ Gerald Mc Boing Boing, and my favourite of all, ‘The Selfish Giant’ by Frederic March. Listening gave me such delight. The anticipation was delayed. It only happened one day a week and that meant I had to wait a full seven days before I could hear them.
It’s useless to compare what happens now to what happened then. Today’s reality is more expectant. Parents expect more from their children, they impose more on and in their children’s free time. And sometimes I think children just get plain tired of the shuffle between this extra-curricular activity and that one. Whatever happened to play for playing sake?
I fear that ‘the shuffle’ thing has promoted a restlessness in children now (and some generations prior) to feeling uncomfortable in just being. To enjoy the moment of listening for listening’s sake. I’m not suggesting that’s entirely true of all children that would be absurd. I’ve just observed it in some is all I’m trying to say.
Even now as an adult I enjoy listening to C.S. Lewis’s The Silver Chair read by Ian Richardson or The Voyage of the Dawn Treader read by Anthony Quayle or The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe and The Last Battle read by Michael York or The Magician’s Nephew read by Claire Bloom or my favourite of favourites; The Horse and his Boy read by Alex Jennings. Jennings has the most delicious glint of humour in his voice. Enough I might add to suggest mischief. I love it.
There’s something about listening to a story that fuels our imaginations whether adult or child that’s definitely worth savouring. Over the years, I’ve loved listening to Spike Milligan read Bad Jelly the Witch or John Cleese read The Screwtape Letters. Maybe it isn’t really about listening so much as about good story-telling; maybe the way we combat losing our ability to listen is to practise it. What do you think?
