“Exchange”
In 1969, I became an exchange student. I left home to spend the summer with my girlfriend’s family. They lived on a cliff, in a stucco house, overlooking Lake Ontario. The box radio sitting on top of the fridge played British Invasion, day in, day out. My girl used to test my language skills by pointing at the radio’s name-brand. Say this, she’d say, and I’d look at the script and spit out: Moe-Toe-Role-Ah. She’d laugh at my accent, which made me feel tiny, even though I’m terribly tall. I just needed more practice, that’s all—just like French kissing.
Photo Credit: Kevin Trotman
Oh! That photo of the radio is exactly right!