The other day it occurred to me that in January, NN.C will mark its fifth anniversary. Perhaps it’s fitting, then, that the week brought two experiences that are…not commonplace, but at least not jaw-dropping, not anymore:
1) I was interviewed by Lisa Belkin, a New York Times reporter who hosts a radio show, “Life’s Work.” Topic: “Living online.” Of course I sounded like a moron, but the results air Sunday at 11 a.m. on XM channel 155, if you have it. And,
2) Yet another stranger e-mailed to ask if I could provide the complete lyrics to “The Ballad of the Big O,” the song Lawson’s dairy stores used in the 1960s, to advertise its super-fresh orange juice. Of course I forget the first verse — my friend Jones knows — but I do know the second:
One man sleeps while the other man drives,
on the non-stop Lawson’s run
and the cold, cold juice
in the tank-truck caboose,
stays as fresh as the Florida sun.
I remember when I first went online in 1994 (or was it ’93), I exchanged an e-mail or two with Warren Zevon. “Isn’t the internet wonderful?” a friend wrote. “Everyone gets to talk to everyone.” Yes, it is.
Speaking of radio: I keep forgetting to mention the great, great “Fresh Air” that was on Tuesday, an interview with Bruce Springsteen that you should listen to, if only to hear the alternate mix of “Born to Run” featuring the glockenspiel and chick singers doing backup. I almost ran off the road.
And at the other end of the spectrum was My Lobotomy on NPR, a truly heartbreaking bit of reporting by Howard Dully, who received a transorbital lobotomy at age 12, thanks to a vindictive stepmother. It’s the sort of thing that, for me, makes me reach for my checkbook during pledge week, the reason NPR is a news source like no other. Having just dozed through an hour, a solid HOUR, of “Primetime” examining the very important case of Anna Nicole Smith’s right to her late husband’s estate, I know what I’m talking about.
If you don’t have time to listen to the piece, the NPR link gives you a good sense of it.
And the picture of the author with icepicks sticking out of his eye sockets isn’t as horrible as you might expect, but it’s pretty awful.
With that: Have a nice weekend.