Don’t Touch That Dial! (Take on This!)

Published May 19, 2015 by authorbebedora

take on this1

Take on This!

—-Don’t Touch That Dial! —-

I’ve probably heard Take on Me sixteen-point-nine million times.

Okay, that may be a *slight* exaggeration. But it’s a lot, trust me.

Granted, most of the time it’s because I have it in the CD player on on my MP3, so that means I’m in control. I can even decide on what version of the song I’d like to partake in at any given time. 1982 demo? Sure. 1984 original version? Why not?

But then there are those times—those magical moments—when Take on Me comes on the radio.



So very wonderful.

I usually screech.

I love the unpredictability of the radio. My car has XM, and most days it’s stuck on the 80’s channel. My child knows the most of the words to 99 Luftballoons (in German, mind you) and loves the Go-Go’s. He could leave or take A-ha, but give him a break—he’s seven. (And he hears it ALL THE TIME.)

When something we don’t like happens to come out of the speakers—like that horrid Kim Carnes song or Relax (Frankie is not welcome in our vehicle)—we usually yell out in terror and the 70’s channel button is pressed. Because I love me some Moody Blues and Elton John.

But when A-ha comes on, it stays on.

Needless to say, you’d get your hands bitten—or at the very least, slapped—if you tried to change it. There is never a time where A-ha is allowed to be turned off. And, let’s face it; there are some instances where you just downright need to hear them.

A few months back, Take on Me came on the radio and immediately made my whole day better. It was the middle of winter in Wisconsin, meaning there was a foot of snow on the ground and the wind chill was twenty below zero. You know, typical.

For whatever reasons the Universe decided to throw at us, we were having a bad morning, and it wasn’t even eight o’clock. Fights, fussing, breakfast refusing—and the bitter cold.

My son and I both grumbled on the way to school, trudged through the snow to the building and, thankfully, were let in to wait because of the “warm weather.” We said our goodbyes and I marched back to my little red firecracker of a car and slumped back in the driver’s seat. I pouted when I realized that I still had to go to the store and post office before I could retreat into my nice warm house and hide until pick-up at three.

I started the car and the radio came to life a split second later.

And the magic happened.

Take on Me started. From the beginning.

Apparently, the angels knew I needed a pick-me-up, and it came in the form of a catchy pop tune from our favorite Norwegians.

I’d like to say the clouds parted and the sun broke through, but let’s face it—it’s Wisconsin in the winter and that never happens. We’re lucky if it gets above freezing before mid-March.

Regardless of the fact that it was still very much cold as hell and the sun hadn’t shined (on TV or anywhere else) in weeks, my day instantly got three-hundred times better. I was suddenly totally okay with having to go grocery shopping. It didn’t matter to me that I had to roll down my window to mail the electric bill—freezing my fingers off in the process.

“Surprise” A-ha had saved the day.


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