Conservative Talk Radio and I

A big fellow is working on the new carpeting in my study and he listens to that insane, political radio talk that carries with it such bigotry and stirs up such annoyance in me.
by Charlie Leck

A workman is in our house. He has taken over my lovely tree-top study/library/office. He is defiling it. A radio blares as he works. It is tuned to one of those horrible, right-wing talk stations. I try to stay at a far end of the house where I will not hear the profanity and the lies the talkers spew. I worry that the house will be contaminated for such a long, long time. How will I ever again get it clean?

Jasper, my black lab and nearly constant companion, senses my frustration and goes back to the bedroom and curls up in the bed he normally only inhabits at night. I sit and try to read, knowing I should leave well enough alone.

Unable to bear it any longer, I finally go out into the living room. My office is a large loft, above our great room. One can look up into my tree-top sanctuary. I speak in a loud voice.

“How can you listen to that trash? It is vile and it is mostly lies. It makes me want to puke!”

Nothing comes back down from the tree-top area. Silence!

I return to my wife’s office and, as I go, I realize the radio has been silenced or, at least, turned so far down in volume that I can no longer hear it. A sense of embarrassment – mine as much as his – hangs in the air. I wonder now if he will purposely do a poor job – cut the new carpeting unevenly or leave nails beneath it. I have never learned to keep my big mouth shut. I can see my wife’s eyes rolling in frustration, even though she is far from here right now and knows nothing of this.

He seemed an innocent enough man when he rang the door bell. He is a very tall fellow – five or six inches taller than I – and he has a broad, strong frame and a baby-face. He hauled the entire roll of carpeting in on his shoulder and climbed the stairs with it as if it were nothing. He has a strong, Slavic accent in his speech.

I hear only the tapping now of some kind of tool and an occasional scraping. The silence is strange. I’ll turn on public radio and drive him crazy – or crazier.

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