The soundtrack of my early life was pretty much curated by Doug Banks. The legendary radioman dominated Chicago airwaves in my formative years, and I’ll never forget getting dressed for school and listening to Doug and Bonnie. Oh. How they laughed and giggled and carried on. Pure joy in the am. I met Sinbad through the Doug Banks Show. I learned about Jodeci and got my news on Anita Hill and experienced some of my first political discussions by listening to Banks.
Back in the day, you could listen to Eddie and Jobo on B-96. And I liked them, but they could be oblivious to people of color at times. And other jocks were just assholes. Straight up. Banks played the music I liked and had a good spirit. You could tell just by listening.
All these memories of slathering on lotion and selecting a high school trendy outfit while listening to Doug flew through my mind yesterday as I wrote an obituary for Ebony.com. And this morning, I was pleasantly surprised to see that The Washington Post quoted heavily from my piece.
Most recently I listened to Doug on V-103 FM, happily introducing my son to the voice of my childhood. “Who’s this?” my son asked. “That’s Doug Banks. I like him,” I replied. “He makes me laugh. He makes me think.”
We listened a bit while at a stop light. The laughter filled my car.
And my son gave the best tribute of all: “He sounds nice mommy. I think I like him too.”