I have rediscovered a little radio station in Pittsburgh called WENN. Sure, I've been there before...it was the late '90s for me and the early '40s for them. But after the show was cancelled, I stopped watching. Oh, sure, I occasionally worked on the odd unfinished fanfic, or reread a transcript, but I didn't watch. In 2003, I found a wealth of videocassettes filled with episodes of Remember WENN--almost the entire third and fourth seasons. Very exciting! And in those videotapes, I visited some comforting old friends. I remembered the magic of a little station in Pittsburgh, reveled in the 1940s fashions, and laughed at the extremely clever writing.

I also learned a few important lessons about radio. See, I've recently begun in the field itself, though my FM all-music station is nowhere near as exciting as good old AM drama. I've learned just how hard it is to write--it took me over two hours just to write a three-minute newscast. I've learned about the value of entertainment. When the US began a war in Iraq, I faced a similar dilemma as Betty did in "All Noisy on the Pittsburgh Front." Should I report all news, or should radio be a diversion for the public? Victor Comstock answered that question for me when he said, "The day we lose Custard the Clown, Betty...we've lost the war." He was right. We have the freedom to run the silliest radio programs we want!

Remember WENN is special in another way. It created an Internet community the likes of which I've never seen. While the show was cancelled in 1998, the fans still meet on IRC chat every Friday and Saturday night. They have mailing lists and fanzines. They're incredibly well-connected. And they're some of the best people I've ever met. I'm honored to call them my friends. We share our joy, our pain, our laughter, and our trout. I know I've come and gone a bit, but I'm always comforted to return to the chat group and see my friends once again. They're very special to me, especially those who've been there with me over the last six years.

Linda. The voice of reason, the wealth of knowledge, the great organizer.
Mike. My long-time pal who knows the lines to "The Importance of Being Betty" almost as well as I do and never forgets to say "Dropped your shoe" when I throw one at him.
Rodney. Nobody can equal his skill with a walk through, a screen cap, an audio file, or an interrogation of a "Nazi spy."
Dana. A wonderful (and prolific) writer. We miss you and will never forget you.

We now return to our regularly scheduled program.