Growing Up to the Rhythm of the Radio
The Delilah show wasn’t just something I listened to, it shaped my love for music and storytelling. From late-night car rides with my mom to spending time in my room with my FM radio, Delilah’s show and the songs she played inspired me to dream about becoming a radio host, something I’m currently pursuing with WSOE!
The moon hung high above us, casting a soft white glow through the car windows as we drove quietly through the night. I was curled up in the back seat, the soft hum of the engine blending with the soothing sound of Delilah’s voice floating from the radio. My mom kept her eyes steady on the road. In the back seat, I listened as Delilah read a letter, someone’s heartbreak, spoken gently into the dark. Then came the music. Always the perfect song, fitting the story so perfectly it felt like the universe had planned it.
For those who are unfamiliar with the nightly Delilah radio show that used to air on 98.1, if you were to tune into her show, you would be greeted with 80s, 90s, and early 2000s hits accompanied by a warm, comforting voice of a woman who felt more like a storyteller than a host. Delilah reads heartfelt letters from listeners. Letters that consist of stories of love, loss, reunion, and hope, and then she selects the perfect song to follow, as if she knows exactly what the moment needs. Listening to Delilah wasn’t just background noise, it was an experience, a memory in motion, one that quietly stirred my love for radio before I even knew it.
Late nights after gymnastics, weak from a full day of school and hours spent flipping through bar and beam routines, I’d plop into the back seat of my mom’s white Audi, which she called Stella. Sore from the day and my mind exhausted, the warm and familiar sound of The Delilah Show filled the car and my mind with serenity. Each night, Delilah welcomed callers who poured their hearts out about navigating heartbreak and celebrating love. More than a radio host, Delilah was a storyteller. She didn’t just play music; she created a narrative with it. Listening to Delilah felt like being part of an unfolding story, one you could slip into during a car ride home, lost in the voices of strangers whose stories provided a break from reality.
As a kid, I wasn’t allowed to have a phone, and after my pink iPod Nano tumbled dramatically down the stairs, the only tech I had left was a clunky F.M. radio that sat on my desk like a relic. Most afternoons, I would spin around in my swivel chair and listen to the 80s, 90s, and early 2000s hits from the 98.1 station. Like many kids with big imaginations and even bigger feelings, I’d hear songs like Timbaland and OneRepublic’s “Apologize” or Fergie’s “Big Girls Don’t Cry” and disappear into the music, acting like I was in my own music video. Something about the heartfelt music and Delilah’s calm, empathetic storytelling made me want to speak too.
I remember my 5th-grade career day, when my teacher asked what we wanted to be when we grew up. Of course, my answer had been ever-changing, ranging from things like becoming a veterinarian to a school teacher, but that day I raised my hand with total confidence and said, “radio show host.” I was met with confused looks from my classmates, yet my built-up passion for music and storytelling was more than a passing phase; it was the beginning of something that felt like me.
I just recently joined WSOE as both a writer and an aspiring radio host. When I first told people I was getting involved with WSOE, I was met with the same kind of blank stares and mild confusion that I got back in fifth grade. However, from my family and those who are truly close to me, I got nothing but support as they have witnessed firsthand how the Delilah show had such a big impact on my creativity and aspirations. The Delilah show wasn’t a nightly radio show, for me it was a catalyst. It helped shape the way I view storytelling, connection, and creativity. I’m forever grateful for the tired nights in the car with my mom, where we would share the experience of listening to Delilah’s storytelling and music selection together while I watched the moon follow the car from the back seat all the way home.