Grandma’s Radio

Grandparent’s Day was a couple of weeks ago, and I completely forgot about it until now. Several months ago when it was my turn to facilitate our third Thursday poets’ meeting, I played my guitar and sang “Grandma’s Feather Bed.” I brought copies of the lyrics so people could sing along if they wanted. I then suggested we write about the best darn thing about our own grandmothers’ homes. To hear me sing the song with piano accompaniment, go to . What I wrote is below.



“It’s a good day,” the morning announcer sings.

“Now, stand by for news.”

At the age of twelve, lying next to Grandma

in her big double bed, I ask,

“Why do we have to listen to news?”

“So we’ll know what’s going on in the world,”

she answers. After local and national news,

sports, horiscopes, we begin our day.

In my own room at home, I have a radio,

wake up in the morning to all the happenings

around town, around the country, around the world.

As a teen-ager, I listen to latest hits,

The Lone Ranger, The Shadow, some comedy.

With limited vision, I’m carried off

in a way never accomplished by television.

Now, with Granma gone, I follow her example

lie in bed, listen to National Public Radio,

know what goes on in the world.


Now it’s your turn. What’s the best darn thing about your grandma’s house? Please feel free to share below.


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Author: abbiejohnsontaylor

I'm the author of three novels, two poetry collections, and a memoir. My work has appeared in various journals and anthologies. I'm visually impaired and live in Sheridan, Wyoming, where for six years, I cared for my totally blind late husband who was paralyzed by two strokes. Please visit my website at:

5 thoughts on “Grandma’s Radio”

  1. I love this image. Your times with your grandma were the same as when I was little at home with my mother. We listened to the radio all the time. Mother played the radio when she worked, ironing clothes, washing dishes, or cleaning house. When my sister and I were home, we had the radio on our favorite music. My favorite time to listen to the radio was at night in bed. When the room was dark, I listened and lost myself in the stories, sounds and my own imagination. I like this poem, Abbie.


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