Dear Rivers: Ten Years Gone.
Rivers.
Ten years, bud.
i'm sure you're wondering. No, I'm not married, yet.
I'm doing fine.
The days I don't think of you, or bring up your name partnered with a riveting Rivers story, I think how much of you I have carried with me.
I'm anti-establishment. Like you were.
I tend to get into Managements ears. A lot.
My creativity. I got a lot of that from you.
Your humour. I still use some of your lines.
I'm not the only one who has a piece of your Shotgun in their pocket. Every time I turn on the radio and hear a newbie, I can hear a bit of Tom on the air. I sit back and wonder which station did they curl up to at night, listening to your tapes, just waiting for that day that they could be The Next Tom Rivers.
I miss our talks.
Despite the many airchecks I listen to, and the many times I replay those home videos of you at CFTR, it's your friendship I miss the most. Been so many times since November 20, 2004 that I've wanted to pick up the phone and get your view on the latest Shaner Shenanigans.
Earlier this year, I got a tattoo of headphones hanging from a microphone. There's a piece of that tatt that's just for you. While the tattoo is an homage to the many people I met over the years who introduced me to radio, and music, you have a sweet spot on there. Right by the mic. Just so we can hear you hit the post, like only you could.
You're not forgotten. Your memory lives on. But we sure do miss you.
Always with us, in our back pockets telling us to Lead, Follow or get out of the way.
Rock'n'Roll till we play, again.
Shaner.
