"For a generation, A Prairie Home [Companion] has been the soundtrack of being stuck in the car with your parents."
That's from Slate film critic Michael Agger's review of the Robert Altman movie version of Garrison Keillor's radio show.
I cannot stand Keillor. I used to be an public radio junkie; I soaked in it. It was the background soundtrack to my workday. Until the kid arrived, that is, and took its place. The combination of radio and baby and talking and phone and computer was just too much, and so something had to go.
Even during the 4-5 hour drive between DC and NYC, I find that I can't really get into listening to NPR that much anymore. If I do, I find that I tune out the kid in the backseat, and that kind of gets to me. I mean, I get to drive--and catch up on what's happening in the world, if not in Lake Wobegon--but she's stuck back in her chair with no options. So rather than go the headrest DVD player route, I usually end up talking to her.
Neal Pollack's got a big thesis that hipsters [sic] are gonna be screwed later because their kids'll reject the soundtracks they've been forced to listen to by their well-meaning, rock'n'rollin' parents. I can't imagine my kid'll be anything but grateful for not having to listen to Garrison freakin' Keillor all the time, but what happens when her daily soundtrack is her parents?
What does your kid hear all day? Or in the car, anyway?