Frida 'n' Reta

This was the night of 1,000 Frida's just around the block from me. Galeria de la Raza was sponsoring a Frida look-a-like contest of some sort and there were Fridas on cellphones, tiny Fridas, bigger than a barn full of hay 'n' more Fridas, feisty Fridas, frumpy Fridas eating tamales at the Roosevelt, Fridas smoking, Fridas spitting, Fridas talking to their homies in a white 1940s roadster, Fridas reading Proust, Fridas in 49ers jackets, Fridas named Fred, Cantonese Fridas, Yiddish Fridas, feline Fridas, and a duo-browed Frida named Lulu.

When I came home, I popped in The Pajama Game, a rare example of second generation Warner Brothers proletarian musical. Unions, large women, a Foy, a factory, and -- perhaps most importantly -- Reta Shaw. The fact that there ever was a Reta Shaw and that she was captured singing and dancing is one of the rare joys of life. I plan to write more about her soon.

Please feel free to talk about her among yourselves in the meantime as I prepare for a very early Sunday morning flight and raod trip.