Photograph of a vintage Motorola radio.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.


M.J.Iuppa lives on a small farm near Lake Ontario’s shores. Check out her blog for her musings on writing, sustainability and life’s stew.

Photo Credit: Kevin Trotman

2 Responses to ““Exchange””

  1. Clara Oswald says:

    I love the story, I will read it in the lesson with my students, thank you

  2. M.J.Iuppa says:

    Oh! That photo of the radio is exactly right!

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