Once upon a lazy Saturday morning, I recorded my first mix tape in seclusion of my sea green bedroom. I had a helluva time getting the AM oldies station in from ninety miles away. The clearest sound was produced by a balancing act of holding my radio just so on the corner of my bed, antenna tilted toward a north facing window. It became a weekend ritual--curating collections of songs, the delicate art of hitting stop before the DJ came on air and the ultimate reward of listening to the perfect tape for weeks, after. All these years later, I still have the tapes--black with white labels and tiny pink polka dots.
This is how my first tape started . . .
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