I've had some sort of 'bug' for weeks now (by which I mean a pathogen, not something of the hemipteran genus or, for that matter, anything slightly arthropodic). I haven't had more than a mild cold for a number of years. I used to get every little something that wandered by, and always had a difficult time getting rid of it; if the average person had it for three days, I could count on a week.
This 'whatever it is' started the week before Thanksgiving. I've visited with my doctor, in her professional capacity, twice now. This week she reluctantly proscribed a second round of antibiotics. (The doctors no longer give a shot of penicillin, and keep the antibiotics to a minimum.) Had it not been that I am an asthmatic, she might not have done it. While I would normally agree to keeping such things at a minimum, I have to say that this second round seems to be winning the day.
I wrote "seems to be" simply because I have twice thought I'd gotten over it only to have it return. It's all centered in my chest area and up. After the first two weeks, my lungs recovered, but the other symptoms either returned, or remained. Doctor's nurse noted that this exact scenario has been reported by many patients. My energy levels, which had been disturbingly low, have been increasing.
All of which is this week's explanation for not getting last Saturday's radio show posted. (I felt decent enough both of the last two weeks to go to the studio to do my show, only to return to the mire both times.) I'm beginning to think that I should start a new blog devoted to excuses for not getting a post written, or finished.
I had wanted to spend a little time jotting down a few thoughts about the show and its subject. Last week's show was on December 12th; Frank Sinatra's 100th birthday. Mr. Sinatra is one of the patron saints of my program. The holy trinity also includes Johnny Mercer as the Patron Saint of Songwriters, and Ella Fitzgerald as the Goddess of Song.
For many of my generation, and most of the younger set, Sinatra has been little more than a late night comedy show caricature, a mobbed up, intolerant arch-conservative, sexist pig. In his later years, he certainly seemed to be trying to live up to that image. But that isn't the real story, it's only the end game that went along with the need to continue performing after the voice had gone, when all that remained was a punch drunk vocal style that relied on arrangements which had once been breathtakingly dazzling, but which had become as punchy as the singing.
The real story is much more interesting, but as I'm working on tonight's show, I don't have the time to tell any of it. I did post a sort of highlights version on the show's Facebook page, using photos with biographical notes in the comments area. Hopefully, this link will take anyone interested to the post. (Non-Facebook types will be able to click through the slideshow, but won't be able to leave comments, or etc.) If that link doesn't work, use this one and scroll down to December 12th: Recycled Radio's page on Facebook.
At any rate, here's the 'Sinatra's 100th Birthday' edition of my little radio show. As always I hope listeners enjoy what they hear.
p.s. Happy Birthday, Mr. Sinatra. And Thanks for all the music.
