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Byline: Hugo Boboy Yonzon III
THERE WERE a lot of tears shed just recently when a radio station, NU 107, signed off after airing for 23 years. Hundreds of sad followers bearing candles gathered outside the studio, reminiscent of the throng that gathered outside The Dakota in New York mourning the death of one of my idols, John Lennon.
In my more than five decades of listening to radio, I have had radio stations signing off on me and, well, it does hurt. Some people may cling to dogs, but I had radio as my true companion, a true pal. Yet, like some dear playmates who for one compelling reason or another leave for another place somewhere, there are radio stations that fade out of our lives forever.
Martial law was one cruel stroke. It obliterated all the stations I was listening to. That one memorable day in September 1972, I turned on the radio and I could hear nothing, except for the …