Radio in the Bathtub...

When we were little bitty kids, my baby brother, Tiny T, was extremely quiet. For any of you who now him now, you know sometimes it’s a wonder if the he’ll shut up. Back then, my parents thought there might be something wrong with his hearing since he never talked. When he was a bit older, my aunt thought he was on drugs. His explanation, “I don’t talk unless I have something to say.”

Novel concept. I think he was about 12 when he said that.

I can think of about 80 people I would like to present that to…

That popped into my head yesterday when I was listening to someone bloviate about all the things he knew and the places he’d been. High decibel announcements of anything in a pubic place just never seem as interesting to me. Blah, blah, and blah. But this man did make me think of my little bro’s high decibel announcement when he was about 3 or 4 years old.

I was the family piano player, or maybe it’s more accurate to say I was the only one who took piano lessons. The sitting was kind of hard for me. Still time was something I preferred to reserve for reading and being stuck at the piano bench when there was action outside was a bit torturous for the smaller version of myself. Plus, the budding feminist in me was always quick to question why I had to do anything that neither of my brothers had to do.

I don’t know if Tiny T wanted to take lessons, but his Mozart moment is burned into my mind. The moment “Radio in the Bathtub” was born.

We never understood from where the simple lyrics came, just a repetition of “Radio in the bathtub, raaaad-I-o in the bathtub” over and over, his tiny hands pounding in unison on the keys, stretching as far as they could reach, building with the intensity of Elton John working through the third hour of the concert. Rocketman, burnin’ through milk and cookies in Edgerton.

Once he realized he had an audience, there were encores, but “Radio in the Bathtub” left as quickly as it came with the burst of creative glory of our favorite one hit wonders. Or maybe it’s just the inspiration for future renditions of stupid shit I do like “Remote in the Fridge” or “Car Keys in the Backdoor…”