I first left Florida–meaning left with a car full of belongings and no real expectation of returning–over six years ago. At the time, there was something even more significant than changing the state in the union that I called home: I was fairly certain I was leaving radio behind for good. It had been a major part of my identity since I started college myself, even in the interim years when I couldn’t by any stretched interpretation of the word call myself a broadcaster. And it was was certainly central to a professional reinvention that began in the middle of Florida. In my final days, I presided over a “farewell show,” one that was the third or fourth iteration of such a thing in my odd radio career (depending on how a couple unique shows are really designated), but I had a level of awareness that it could be the last time I’d be behind a microphone as anything other than perhaps a nostalgic guest. I don’t actually remember much about that show–interestingly, I have no tactile recollections of any of my farewell endeavors–but I know the added weight was there.

When I posted the playlist online, I was asked by someone if it was difficult choosing the last song. I always know what the last song will be. Given that, it was actually the penultimate song that offered a more definitive final statement on that era of my on air life. Luckily, that song was also easy to select.

The Heathens were a local Orlando band, and I’m pleased that the college station I called home–as an advisor rather than a student–was deeply dedicated to supporting the artists who lived within the same area code. Of those that had been trucking through the station with some regularity in those waning days of my status as a Floridian, the Heathens were my favorite, maybe because their countryfied take on rock ‘n’ roll, marked by clear, wise songwriting, reached back to the bands I often found irresistible a decade-and-a-half earlier when I was myself a student. The song I chose was the lead track off of their album {Big White House}, which I’d made a special trip to the finest local record store to make sure I had it in my collection before I headed north. Part of the appeal was a lyrical reference to the basement studio where I sat as I played it (“We got a local radio station”). Mostly, though, I enjoyed that my second-to-last song before bidding goodbye in a fairly public manner was about making exactly the opposite choice (“I’ve got enough stickers on my suitcase/ I’m tired of movin’/ I am stickin’ around here”).

As it turns out, I’ve been back to Florida plenty over the course of the past six years. I may very well have cause to go back there again sometime, but it’s also quite possible–hopefully probable–that yesterday I crossed the northern border to exit the state for the last time, at least the last time for a trip that was taken out of unpleasant, unwanted obligation. So I’ll offer up the Heathens once again in the hopes that this time the irony will take.

Listen or download –> The Heathens, “Stickin Around”

(Disclaimer: This is usually where I offer my strained rationalization for sharing a song on the interweb in flagrant defiance of current copyright laws with which I strongly disagree. Truth is, I’m not entirely sure if this song is out of print. What’s more, it’s entirely possible that the band is indeed properly compensated for digital sales–still readily available for certain–in this instance because there’s not a massive, greedy corporate record label to intercept all the money. To that end, I’ll gladly direct you to the Amazon page where the entire album can be purchases as MP3 files with the recommendation that the whole thing is as good as this track. Well, almost. So the song shared doesn’t necessarily fall within my traditional guidelines for what can and can’t be shared in this space, but this was absolutely the track I needed to share today. I’ll remove it if asked to do so.)