Happy fourth!

Try to avoid things that want to explode in your hands.(Dave, quit snickering!) Don't poke your eye out with a sparkler. Do your best not to step barefoot on hot embers. Refrigerate the potato salad untill the last minute and don't eat it if it gets warm. Go put the jet nozzle on your hose now so when your idiot neighbor shoots his illegal roman candles at your fir tree, you can squirt water high enough to put out the fire before it gets to your garage. And keep your pets inside all day.

I have been listening to some fun stuff lately. On the radio I heard a recording of some jazz musicians and Fred Astair. The musicians played some easy blues for a few bars, then you heard some splendid whistling as Fred got into the piece, then ratatap-tap, he took off. And for five minutes or so he and the musicians made awesome music together. He even did a tap solo riff. Finally you could hear him say, "Take it" rather breathlessly, and the drummer picked up the rhythms. After about a minute, Fred and the drummer began trading licks. It was awesome! It was recorded in the 70s when Fred was an OLD man, and he was STILL scorching the floor! I had never considered tap shoes as a musical instrument before.

And I went to the library and got some books on CD to listen to on my I-pod, among them, 99 Radio Shows. Oh my gosh, what a treat! Tom Mix and Wild Bill Hickock with Andy Devine as Jingles, and Tarzan of the Jungle, and The Shadow, and The Whistler and the Voice of America broadcasts(with commercials. "This program is brought to you by Camel Cigarettes, who provide free cigarettes to all of our servicemen recuperating in hospitals.") and the Story Lady. The comedies are so flat that they're unintentionally funny. I wonder if they hired professional laughers to fill the audience, or if someone stood around with a sign that he would hold up at the proper time saying, "Laugh, damn it!" And there's a multipart serial of Superman and the Talking Cat that I haven't got to yet. Oh. it does beguile the idle hours!

Those old shows were great fun, and as I listen, I realize they were quite a writing exercise. The actors have to set the scene without explicitly describing it. Margot Lane says, "Oh, what a magnificent foyer! Even the stairs are white marble. And what a stunning chandelier!" You can see it, can't you? Or Lamont Cranston says,"Better take my hand, dear. You could twist an ankle on this rough ground in the dark." Ah ha! we know they're outside at night, no doubt in pursuit of some nere-do-well again. Because, as we all know, "The weed of crime bears bitter fruit!"

I might try writing a radio drama, just for the fun of it. Let's see, it would star Intarsia, master knitter, and her ward,. . . who? Who would be a good ward for Intarsia? Any suggestions?