Back to the 50’s we go

So maybe the harsh reaction of yesterday is related to the sickening outrage I feel over the election results, that he who must not be named is now going to be president. It has all been said by people much more eloquent and smart than I, so I won’t try to add anything to the descriptions of the future we are all in for. The fact that the country is going to go back to the 50’s and start all over again to combat racism, sexism, intolerance hate and bigotry (to only mention a few).

I can’t even stand to listen to NPR, public radio. I have loved it since the early 70’s when it came to Maine and have had the radio on ever since then every day wherever I have lived and worked. I can’t bear to have it on now. My own personal private life in my own home, in my own kitchen in the morning has been destroyed without radio. If I didn’t have to work for a living, I’d be marching with all those people. It is such a cruel blow.

November 14, 2016, I hate the radio now…

My day off, another day I don’t have to worry about being called in. It should be a great morning, it’s when I have always listened to the radio. I can’t stand it now. My pal, my radio for almost 50 years, now my mornings are ruined. My own personal mornings. In 1973 I was in grad school and my alarm was my radio set to the morning birds of Robert J. Lurtzema, the best and most knowledgeable classical DJ there ever was or will be I dare say. It was an era, the birds for my alarm, grad school, a new partner (which we didn’t call them then, had to tell the landlord we were married), radio news, classical music, before sheep, before my baby (who is 40 now) lots of things, and now it is ruined because they talk about Trump and protests and mean people who seem to want the world back to how it was before WWII. Can it be? Can it really be? How can I fix my mornings? Maybe I can get back to playing my thousands of albums of music, maybe I listen to KPTZ. But it’s not the same as having NPR in my morning

I fixed the chicken door but I think it is temporary. Caught the chickens and put them in a dog crate while I turned the thing upside down and was able to get in the bottom (which was on the side) and put the door back into the track. It won’t stay, but now I know how to fix it. I love those little birds. I wish I had a farm for them to be in, wish my barn was more than just the trunk of my car. Why do I think of such sad things.

(The image at the top is a header I made for a members only newsletter for the radio station a few years ago.)

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