Category: Radio

I hate to hear him suffer so:
He’s dying, line by line.
His agony is nothing, though,
Alongside mine.

by Ray Romine Wednesday, February 27, 1952

ADVOCATING A 168-hr. WORK-WEEK FOR A CERTAIN My daughter’s very quiet when her program’s on the air,
And if I even whisper she has fits and tears her hair;
She loves a perfect silence while Jack Armstrong screams and fights,
But let me listen to the news, and daughter scales the heights:

She climbs up on the davenport and jumps upon the floor;
She runs to bring the paper in, and always slams the door;
She learned to sing at school today, and has to show me how;
She finds her whistle, horn, and drum, forgotten until now!

She has to say her “ABC’s”, and from her primer reads;
She tells me all the things required to fill her Christmas needs;
Her joy, though, isn’t quite complete, due to the war, I fear–
For Bubble-gum she cannot get, to burst in papa’s ear.

THE MORAL:
(Every good story should have one)
If you, then, have a child or two astray in your menage,
Have a radio for daddy tucked away in yon garage!

STILL—
Don’t we ever get together on this thing? Of course we do:
Every Thursday night at 8: o’clock, we can the hullabaloo;
Then, Sandy puts her toys away; Flo, too, drops everything,
As we sit–Oh, Boy!–and all enjoy Bob Crosby’s brother, Bing!

(I’m afraid, though, while we love him, we’ll go on afield, and seek
A solution netting more than thirty minutes’ peace per week!!)

by Ray Romine Tuesday, October 19, 1943