Chapter 2 - Melissa Greenhalgh

Melissa Greenhalgh, my co-host on The Riverbend Awareness Project, shares some creative nonfiction. 

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This podcast is for anyone who loves a good story. Board now for interviews and writing samples from talented authors!

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Submission guidelines:
There is no word count, but please select a piece that can be read in ten minutes or less.
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Every story is a ticket to somewhere extraordinary. No need to pack a bag, just settle in and let the words transport you. Now boarding: an insight to an author's mind. This is The Story Station.

Emma: Today, we have Melissa Greenhalgh, our resident... what do you do here? Sales?

Melissa: I am a sales assistant.

Emma: She's a sales assistant, but she is also an author. And so she is going to be sharing something with us today. What are you going to be sharing?

Melissa: I'm gonna be sharing a short nonfiction piece called "Cassette Tapes."

Emma: That sounds lovely. Before we get right into it, I want to ask you why you write and what you write.

Melissa: I write because... I feel like I grew up loving... I grew up in a world that was full of stories, and I didn't really realize it until I was like, what am I gonna do with my life? And I was like, I love stories, and I love writing them, and I love reading them. But, like, I don't know. Music has stories, and family has stories, and... just actual stories. So my mom read to us when we were kids, and there was always so much music... and musicals! I don't know. It's just—I've always loved a good story, and so I wanted to be part of that world.

And what I write... Lately, I haven't been writing a whole lot. Scripts for commercials! But I wrote a little bit of a nonfiction, like, maybe 3 pages, about a previous work experience. So I write nonfiction a little bit. I like writing fiction. So I...

Emma: That's so fun.

Melissa: The only thing I'm not really good at is poetry, and I am impressed with people that can do that.

Emma: That is awesome. So tell us a little bit more about your piece. You said it's called "Cassette Tapes?"

Melissa: Yeah. It's kind of about growing up with music, and I don't know, just listening to my parents' music and growing to love that and sharing it with my brother, and I don't know, just the story of experiencing that music.

Emma: That's awesome. I'm excited. Alright. So without further ado, Melissa Greenhalgh, "Cassette Tapes."

Melissa: My brother, Matt, and I would hunt down a cassette tape, pull over a chair, push a button, and twist the silver volume dial.

The dial and switches of dad's 2 foot wide and 2 foot tall stereo system would light up a neon teal blue and the lines on the radio station finger would glow orange. The speakers, covered in a woven orange brown fabric, sat on top of the bookshelf and behind mom and dad's door on the floor. It was the closest we ever got to surround sound. The speakers would pop and crack like heated metal and then music would pour out.

Johnny B. Goode, Chuck Berry, 1958.

I've always associated this song with my cousin Johnny. I knew he played guitar and that he was good at it. At least good enough to be teaching my brother the chorus to "Sweet Home Alabama," which Matt proceeded to play only the chorus over and over and over again. In junior high, we had to write a report about an influential African American with the condition that they were still living. I wanted to be that kid who wrote about someone no other kid in junior high knew about, but that one stipulation would ruin it because Chuck Berry was dead, right? Nope. He was still alive, still performing. He may have even been still flouting his signature duck walk move.

Free Bird, Lynyrd Skynyrd, 1973.

My brother and I did not understand how songs worked. We both complained about "Free Bird" having the longest introduction till it got to the actual song. We'd get tired of complaining and kind of sway our heads and bodies back and forth like drunken geese to the slow, balladic beginning. Then the guitar would start to shred, the drums shake, and we'd jump up and down, headbang, and whip out our invisible axes and play along. This was my first introduction to rock.

My Best Friend's Girl, The Cars, 1978.

The intro to this song was the first thing Matt taught me on the guitar. It was my introduction to basic tablature. I think I liked this tape more than Matt ever did, and it was then our flavors and music started to split. He liked hard rock, country, and metal, while I liked alternative pop and folk. He played the electric guitar. I played the acoustic. He learned by ear and with tabs, and I learned from chords. He easily conquered bar chords. I used my voice to cover up my refusal to play them. When I was around eight or ten, I would attach Dad's Walkman to my waistband, put the Cars tape in, plug in the cheap headphones, and dance for hours around our backyard. Mom called it "fluttering." The constant drumming beats and fast, high pitched lyrics were perfect for my epic, imagined dance battles with my invisible friends. I wonder what the neighbors thought.

The Heat Is On, Glenn Frey, 1984.

This was another strut-around-the-room song. We didn't have to wait for it to pick up; it started off crazy. The best part, however, was the chorus. After the line, "the heat is," three distinct, slamming beats would echo out. It sounded like someone banging metal trash can lids on top of the cans. We would slam our feet into the carpet three times or clap our hands. There's something tingly about being synchronized with the song and the person beside you.

I'm Walking on Sunshine, Katrina and the Waves, 1985.

My last real birthday party featured this song, chocolate cake batter cooked in a Belgian waffle iron, and a lot of pasta. I had invited only two people, my friend who lived not far down the road and my friend who'd moved away. There are soundless pictures of us jumping up and down on my mom's tiny exercise trampoline, dancing and singing to the song. My open mouth is forever frozen on one vowel sound of the lyrics.

Happy Birthday, 2 months early, 1996.

I've forever been trying to get closer to the past.

Thank you for traveling with us. Next stop: your work of art. Poetry, fiction, creative nonfiction, you name it! Email us at story [e-mail]. Submission guidelines are not shy; they can be found in the podcast description. The Story Station, hosted by Emma, is a production of Riverbend Media Group.