Watching the Radio

This semester the Humanities Seminar class I’m taking at the University of Arizona is Gotta Sing! Gotta Dance! The Saga of the American Musical Theater, with Professor Richard Hanson.  When my daughter was young we used to sing musicals together.  Now I not only want to do that, I want to dance around the room too, but no high kicks!  (My knee is still swollen from the aftermath of that taekwondo roundabout kick.)  And/or see some New York shows.  The Book of Mormon!

During “halftime” one of the women was talking about watching the radio when she was a child.  Another woman said that her mother made them dress up for the broadcast on the radio by the King and Queen of England!  (This before 1952 when Elizabeth became queen.)  I’m probably the youngest in the class.  We were the last family on our block to get a television – think that I was nine – but I never watched the radio.


Seen today: when I was leaving class at Pima College today I was struck by the sea of new, clean cars.  What a wealthy nation we are.

3 pink taxis

This after I’d been reviewing my Cuba photos – with the cars from the 50’s due to our embargo – to decide which two photos to print for the wall of art inspired by our Cuba trip for the Cuba reunion party this weekend.  (Shown here: taxis from the 50’s – and before – and the two photos I chose.)

16 x 20 laundry16 x 20 face


After our yearly HOA meeting shared a bottle of wine with a few neighbors.  One couple – three houses down – was recounting their burglary, which he almost walked in on.  He had entered the house from the garage and they made it out the front door with the best pieces of his wife’s jewelry (instead of taking the whole jewelry box, the thieves did some picking and choosing), but left his double-barreled shotgun on the bed.  The police pulled fingerprints off the shotgun, but said This isn’t CSI, and didn’t run them!

I mentioned that I was being more careful to lock the doors to my house after I heard about the burglary (the guys also hit a house on the next street), and he asked if I had a gun.  I said that his shotgun hadn’t helped him, but he said that he had four guns (!) if anyone broke in when they were home.  Yikes!  Had to copy this Doonesbury:


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