From My Grandfather’s Wooden Transistor Radio to Today’s Smart World

Warming Lamps, Warm Memories

It’s been fifty-four years since I first met my grandfather’s wooden transistor radio — that magical box that seemed to contain the world.
You didn’t just switch it on and hear sound immediately. First came a soft click, then a faint hum.
We waited. The lamps inside had to warm up. Those few seconds of silence before the first voice emerged were filled with anticipation.

And then the sound: “This is the Turkish Radio and Television Corporation, Ankara Station…”
That moment always felt like a door opening to the wider world.

In the early 1970s, in most small towns and rural parts of Turkey, the radio was the heart of communication.
Television was only beginning to appear in large cities; for us, the radio was everything — a friend, a teacher, a storyteller.
News, folk songs, and radio dramas connected us not only to the country but to one another.
The faint crackle of a radio speaker carried both information and warmth.

When Television’s Light Reached the Towns

By the early 1970s, TRT had begun regular television broadcasts in major Turkish cities.
Owning a television in those days meant being part of the future.
In smaller towns, however, televisions began to appear later — usually around the mid-to-late 1970s.

Those early black-and-white broadcasts were short, just a few hours a day, but they fascinated everyone.
In towns, the one house that owned a television became the neighborhood’s gathering point.
Women sat on floor cushions, children on the rug, while men watched silently, cigarettes glowing in the dim light.

It was mesmerizing to finally see what we used to only hear: news anchors, musicians, movie stars, the world beyond our streets.
Television opened a new window to life itself.

When color broadcasting began in the mid-1980s, it changed everything again.
Cafés and coffeehouses placed big TVs on shelves; whole crowds would gather for football matches or evening programs.
Television was no longer just information — it was social life.

The First Ring of the Home Telephone

By the late 1980s, a new sound began echoing through Turkish towns: the sharp trill of a telephone bell.
At first, only the post office or the town hall had a working line.
People queued to make calls; the clerk connected you and said, “You may speak now.”

By the early 1990s, home telephones became a source of pride.
Families decorated them with lace covers and placed them on their best tables.
Having a phone was more than convenience — it was a symbol of modern life.

The old rotary dial and its mechanical click-click-click rhythm became part of the soundscape of the time.
It brought families closer together, shortening the distance between the town and the city.

The Mobile Revolution: A Voice in Your Pocket

In the mid-1990s, Turkey entered the mobile age.
At first, cell phones were large, heavy, and very expensive. Coverage was patchy, and only businesspeople carried them.
But by the late 1990s and early 2000s, things changed fast.

In small towns, seeing someone pull out a mobile phone and extend its antenna was like witnessing a miracle.
Soon everyone had one — in the marketplace, on the bus, even out in the fields.
For the first time, communication was truly mobile.

Text messaging followed.
The SMS era gave birth to a new language — short, emotional, and spontaneous:
“Good night,” “How are you,” “I miss you.”
Tiny messages carried enormous feelings.

The Arrival of the Internet: The Dawn of a New Era

Turkey’s first internet connection was established in 1993, but for most small towns, the real encounter began a decade later.
Internet cafés were the new meeting points of the 2000s.
After school, young people rushed there to create email accounts, play games, and chat online.

That modem sound — the screeching, beeping handshake of a dial-up connection — was the soundtrack of a new generation.
Web pages loaded slowly, but curiosity grew fast.
People were no longer just listeners; they were researchers, writers, and sharers.

By the mid-2000s, ADSL lines brought the internet into homes.
It quickly became essential: shopkeepers ordered goods online, students did homework, teachers uploaded grades, farmers checked the weather forecast.
The world was suddenly at our fingertips.

The Rise of Social Media: A New Kind of Conversation

In the 2010s, communication shifted from personal to global.
Facebook, Instagram, YouTube, and Twitter became part of everyday life — even in the most remote towns.
News no longer came from the newspaper; it came from the phone screen.

Announcements that once echoed from the town loudspeaker were now sent through WhatsApp groups.
Weddings, condolences, harvest festivals — everything was shared instantly.
Social media turned everyone into a small-scale broadcaster.

For local businesses, it was a revolution.
The shopkeeper who once waited for customers now promoted his products online.
Young people kept in touch with friends studying in distant cities or abroad.
The town square had moved to the digital world.

The Smart Age: Humans and Machines Communicating

Today, in the 2020s, even the smallest towns in Turkey are connected.
Smartphones, tablets, and Wi-Fi are everywhere.
Bills are paid online, directions are found through maps, and the weather forecast is just a voice command away.

Artificial intelligence has quietly entered daily life.
Farmers use sensor-based irrigation systems that measure soil moisture.
Students attend online lessons; teachers hold virtual classrooms.
Voice assistants read the news aloud or translate foreign words instantly.

Technology that once seemed like science fiction is now mundane.
Communication is no longer limited to people — machines talk to machines, too.

The Patience of the Past, the Speed of the Present

My grandfather’s radio — the one that needed time to warm up — feels like a relic now, but also a teacher.
It taught us patience.
It reminded us that information has value, that waiting for a voice made it precious.

Today, everything is immediate.
News flashes across screens before we can blink.
Yet something is missing — that quiet excitement of waiting for sound, the shared silence before the radio came alive.

Still, the essence of communication hasn’t changed.
It’s always been about the same human desire: to connect.
We’ve simply replaced letters with pixels, and static with signal.

From Wooden Radios to Smart Worlds

The journey from my grandfather’s transistor radio to the era of artificial intelligence is not just about machines — it’s about curiosity, creativity, and the human spirit.
Once, we waited for glowing tubes to warm up; now we tap a screen and reach the other side of the planet in seconds.

Perhaps fifty years from now, our grandchildren will look back at today’s smartphones and laugh at how “old-fashioned” they were.
And maybe one of them will start their own story by saying:

“It’s been fifty-four years since I first met my grandfather’s smartphone.”

Because no matter how far technology evolves, one thing will always remain: the joy of reaching out, of sharing a moment, of hearing another voice answer back.

About the Author

Mehmet Kılıç was born in Hatay in 1963, though his family roots trace back to Malatya.
He has a deep passion for technology, history, and human stories.
His writing connects the past and the present, focusing on the people behind change.
He works at Vigo Tours as a tour operations specialist and is also an active birdwatching guide.
Email: [email protected]