Published Tuesday, Sept. 1, 2009 | 2:12 p.m.
Updated Thursday, Sept. 3, 2009 | 10:30 a.m.
Time magazine has called The Lindbergh Kidnapping the Crime of the Century. Others may think it was The Black Dahlia or The Great Train Robbery or The Manson Murders or the Unabomber or Richard Speck, stabbing all those student nurses to death in a Chicago boarding house.
Not me. (Although I'm totally sympathetic to all the victims.)
I think it's going to a bar on a Saturday afternoon, in the middle of the baseball pennant races, only to find every TV in the place tuned to preseason football.
I have this pal named Chip, who I met through the Sun holiday auction many years ago. In fact, if there were a Hall of Fame for those who contribute so generously to the Sun Summer Camp, Chip would be Willie Mays at induction time. First ballot. Automatic.
His nickels -- and many, many, many dollars -- have sent more kids to summer camp than the YMCA.
Anyway, Chip will e-mail me from time to time, to comment on something -- one of my blogs, how Jeremy Mayfield is getting railroaded by NASCAR, how to build a rocket engine out of a Chunky bar and a paper clip (Chip works at Cal Tech); whatever's on his mind that day, really.
When Michael Jackson died, Chip asked if I was interested in adding any King of Pop swag to my collection. I e-mailed him back to say that as much as I respected M.J.'s talent and as much as I listened to "Don't Stop til' You Get Enough" back in '79, I would probably be more interested in some Laura Branigan swag, when she died.
Hate to break it to you, Ron, Chip wrote back. Laura Branigan died in 2004 of a brain aneurysm.
So when I saw Chip Monday night, he had his goodies bag with him. The T-shirt pictured here was inside.
"Remembering Laura Branigan" it says on front.
"The Voice ... The Passion ... The Power ... " it says on back.
Out of respect to the lovely Grammy-nominated singer-songwriter, it is only fitting she have the last word:
But you really don't remember, was it something that they said?
Are the voices in your head calling, Gloria?
The voices in my head are. I haven't been able to get Gloria out of my auditory cortex since Chip showed up with her T-shirt.