Love You To Death

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A wise man once said 90 percent of life is just showing up. An hour before midnight, five nights a week, fifty weeks a year, I show up at CVOX radio. Our studios are in a concrete-and-glass box in a strip mall. The box to the left of us sells discount wedding dresses. The box to the right of us rents XXX movies. The box where I work sells talk radio-“ALL TALK/ALL THE TIME.” Our call letters are on the roof. The O in CVOX is an open, red-lipped mouth with a tongue that looks like Mick Jagger’s.

After I walk under Mick Jagger’s tongue, I pass through security, make my way down the hall and slide into a darkened booth. I slip on my headphones and adjust the microphone. I spend the next two hours trying to convince callers that life is worth living. I’m good at my job- so good that sometimes I even convince myself.

My name is Charlie Dowhanuik. But on air, where we can all be who we want to be, I’m known as Charlie D. I was born with my mother’s sleepy hazel eyes and clever tongue, my father’s easy charm, and a winecolored birthmark that covers half my face. In a moment of intimacy, the only woman I’ve ever loved, now, alas, dead, touched my cheek and said, “You look as if you’ve been dipped in blood.”

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