I was one of those kids who loved radio. Growing up, I had a radio next to my bed and would listen late into the night. My mom kept one on in the kitchen for 18 hours a day—that’s where I first heard about John Lennon’s death early the next morning. On family vacations, I’d sit in the car after dark, scanning the AM dial to see what faraway stations I could pull in—sometimes even catching Detroit Tigers broadcasts all the way from Arkansas.
So, a 30+ year career in radio has truly been a dream come true.
Which makes leaving that much harder.
April 1 will be my last day on the air (no joke!).
Like anyone fortunate enough to spend decades in broadcasting, I’ve had some unforgettable highlights. Meeting artists like Yo-Yo Ma, Joshua Bell, Lang Lang, and Sharon Isbin is certainly high on the list.
So is telling stories that hadn’t been told before. In 2006, Monika Vischer and I created a five-hour documentary about lost music and musicians of the Holocaust. It went on to win a national award and is now part of the permanent collection at the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum.
For the 20th anniversary of Columbine, I interviewed composer Frank Ticheli about "An American Elegy", written for the Columbine High School band in the wake of the tragedy. He had never shared the full story with the media before. It’s a legacy the CU Boulder and Columbine communities hold dear, and I’m grateful more people now know that powerful story.
But what I will treasure most are the moments I’ve shared with you.
Like the gentleman at a Friends of Chamber Music concert who said, “You don’t look like I thought you would.”
I asked, “What did you think I looked like?”
He replied, “I can’t remember now!”
I still laugh about that, and hope I didn’t disappoint him too much.
Or the family at a National Repertory Orchestra concert who asked for autographs. I assumed they were referring to the piano soloist, but no. The daughters were listeners to CPR Classical and wanted my autograph. That only happened once in my career!
And then there’s the moment I will carry with me the longest. At a Joshua Bell concert at the Newman Center in the summer of 2021—just as audiences were returning after the pandemic—I met a woman who had recently lost an adult child. She told me, “I couldn’t have made it through that without you.”
I thought she meant “you” collectively—the music, the station, all of us at CPR Classical.
“No,” she said. “You. You’re empathetic. I hear it on the air. Sometimes it felt like you were talking directly to me.”
That has stayed with me. I feel incredibly grateful to have been in a position to offer comfort, even in some small way, during someone’s deepest grief.
I hope over the years we’ve shared a few laughs together, discovered something new about music and composers, and had those “driveway moments” when a piece was simply too beautiful to turn off. We’ve lived through many stunning Colorado days together—and held onto the beauty of music when the world felt especially heavy. All through the power of radio.
Thank you for the kind notes over the years. Thank you for your wonderful suggestions for the daily Music Room feature—please keep them coming. The Music Room will continue!
And thank you for making my radio career the dream of a lifetime!
So, why am I leaving, and where am I going?
As much as I love being a classical music host, I’m ready for something new. Fundraising has long been a meaningful part of my life, and I’m excited to step into it full-time as a Development Officer for an organization I love just as much as Colorado Public Radio.
Karla Walker is heard weekdays 10:00 a.m. to 3:00 p.m. on CPR Classical. Hear her final show on Wednesday, April 1. We will miss Karla! We invite you to give your own personal goodbye by emailing [email protected], or by calling to leave her a message at 720-222-9501.
