Some folks chase careers. I chased a signal.
It first called to me in 1975, from a snowy corner of Harvard, Illinois — a whisper through the static, a rhythm in the wind. I answered with a microphone, a stack of vinyl, and a whole lot of hairspray. Since then, I’ve spun Elvis in Iowa, Madonna in Minnesota, and the Macarena in Texas (don’t ask). Every hit had its heyday, and every heyday had its hairdo.

These days, I’m proud to say I’ve been with Hippie Radio pretty much since it first lit up the dial — shaping the sound, the soul, and the occasional bumper that makes you laugh out loud in traffic. I get to play the Old, New Songs again… the ones that still make hearts race and memories stir.

I met my wife at a radio station — love at first broadcast — and we’ve been happily married for over 40 years. Our son, his wife, and our grandson live in Smyrna, close enough for family hugs and far enough that I don’t accidentally show up with a playlist and a casserole.

And if you’re looking for a little vinyl magic, tune in to Sunday Night Vinyl — Sundays at 9pm. It’s where the needle drops, the stories breathe, and the music remembers.
Still spinning. Still riffing. Still believing that the right song at the right time can take you somewhere you didn’t even know you needed to go.