The morning of the final radio show I produced in 2004 combined nearly every imaginable emotion. It's unusual that you know it's your last show but, in this instance, we all knew (even though our bosses didn't tell us) and still promised to do the best show and go out on top. As the hour turned to 9:00 A.M., the show became more music-intensive. At some point in our final hour, "These Are Days" played and a lump formed in my throat. Within minutes, I would no longer work with two of the most talented folks from that little studio where we broadcast the best little radio show (no one in Chicago knew). I learned so much working together during those early hours. Lessons about life, comedy and the power of family happened daily. Heck, at this point, the three of us in that room were family.
By 9:50 A.M., the morning host turned on the mic one last time to say "goodbye" and he immediately broke down in tears. It actually caught me off guard and knocked me out of my emotional state. I had to be strong, I thought to myself. Between tears, he thanked our listeners, thanked management for the opportunity and then signed off. After a quick group hug, the last thing I remember was watching every single phone line into the radio station light up and flash continuously until our boss walked into the studio and escorted us out of the building. It was my first time being "on the beach"...