Willie and Bob and John

No, it's not a variation of the old lament, Abraham, Martin and John. It's a concert I went to in Virginia Beach Saturday. Three signature performers, each doing a full one-hour set.

We started with 76-year-old Willie Nelson. Still sounds like he always has, but with a voice that is somewhat lower. Looks much the same as he always has. Of course, Willie's looked dried up for decades. Willie sang many of his old favorites and the crowd got into it, singing along and rocking in the stands.

Next was the kid, John Mellencamp, formerly known as John Cougar and John Cougar Mellencamp. At least we can pronounce his various names, unlike Prince. Melloncamp at 58 was the youngest and still hasn't decided if he's a balladeer or a rocker. He was best at hitting his rock groove, but disappointed the crowd by not singing his signature ballad, Jack and Diane.

Last was the 68-year-old voice of a generation, Bob Dylan, heavily amped, huge sound, garbled words. Oh wait, Dylan always garbled his words. Voice is much lower. He didn't do anything acoustic, which is what I liked best about his early work. Only two signature songs. He was pushing a new CD. Can't decide if it's good or not. He growled and chewed his words to the point where his voice became a percussive instrument. Oh yes, he still plays harmonica better than he sings.

I saw Dylan 40 years ago. Now I can cross Willie off my bucket list. John was never on it.

All in all, the tied-died and support hose group enjoyed a wild evening, even if it wasn't completely what it wanted.

Uncle Walter

I miss Walter Cronkite. When the first warning that he was seriously ill came across the Associated Press wire a couple of weeks ago, I thought his time on earth was short enough to touch. It was. And I wish I had been wrong.

I grew up with Walter Cronkite on the evening news. The day wasn't complete without him telling us what had happened. He reported THE NEWS. With two outstanding exceptions, he was never part of the story. An old wire service reporter, he knew how to "write tight," edit to get to the heart of the story, and present the story because it was important in and of itself.

We know of the two moments when he was part of the story: wiping tears away when he reported President Kennedy's assassination on November 22 and when he was so proud when John Glenn took his "one giant step for mankind."

I was ambused last night in Market Square in Roanoke by a young TV reporter from Channel 7 who couldn't possibly have seen him live. What she missed! She asked a couple of questions - needed a gray-haired woman's point of view. I told her.

I had the pleasure of meeting him several times when I worked in NYC. A funny man who told the bluest of jokes, but only if he asked if you would be uncomfortable first. I wasn't and I heard plenty of those jokes.

Uncle Walter, now you have joined your lovely Betsy. Sail away, dear man. We miss you more than you can imagine.

Meow-whine

{begin whine

My humans went away last weekend. Instead of quietly leaving me behind in my lovely house with my own food in a timed dish, they sent me to jail! They call it camp. It's jail, meow-it! I mean, it has bars and I can't run around outside or sleep on the floor or sneak a nap on the loveseat or drink from my own dish or anything. Why would anyone send me, such a cool cat, to jail?

My humans went to visit cousin Rosie. I admit she's cute and tiny and is allowed on any upholstered furniture. I will remind my humans that I am NOT allowed on upholstered furniture, so I have to sneak my naps.... Anyway, cousin Rosie is petite. She weighs less than ten pounds. If she came to see me, I'd squash her. I weigh a svelte fourteen. She says she has a sister O'Grady but my humans have only seen her once and doubt that she's real.

Leave it to say, I got even when my humans got home. My female human was working at her desk and my male human hadn't gotten up yet. (My female human gets up really early. I help. I meow her awake when I get hungry.) I went upstairs to wake up my male human. One warning meow didn't work. So I tossed my kibbies all over the carpet. Served him right!

They'll never leave me in jail again.

{end whine

Can We Be Correct When We Open Our Mouths?

Occassionally I will be grabbing egregious errors in print or over the air -- even overheard, but there usually are too many overheard -- and ranting a bit about them here. Today's entry comes courtesy of the flu pandemic. Actually, there are two entries. The first is trying to change the media from saying "swine flu" rather than "H1N1." So not going to happen. Lots of poor pigs will suffer. . . .

Next comes to us from none other than Janet Napolitano herself. She was asked why the US doesn't use thermal imaging devices at our borders or airports to identify people who are sick. She spoke correctly about people being contageous before symptoms appear, thereby rendering the thermal imaging devices less than perfect. She then went on to say that these devices don't always register "people who have temperatures."

Um, if we have a pulse, we have a temperature. Or, do we have a previously unreported problem of dead people crossing our borders? What she meant to say was
fever, I think.

Sigh.