Where’s Susan?

The Arabian Sea, April 13 — I hope all of you received an email notification yesterday of the newest post, OMAN: Essence of Arabia. For some bizarre reason, Wix decided to send out a missive for the first time since April 3, when they let you know about INCREDIBLE !NDIA: PART ONE. When I hit ‘Publish’ today, I have no idea if it will kick out a notification — or, more likely, not.

Remember to BOOKMARK the site and check it on your own every day or so. Don’t wait for an email.

I am all caught up on posts, and there's nothing to do today except eat lunch, attend my second Arabic language class, go to choir rehearsal, then a concert in the Atrium, a pre-dinner guest lecture, dinner, and another round of my very favorite onboard game, ‘Name that Tune’ (my team usually comes in second though we did win, once), followed by tonight’s concert unless I’m too exhausted to go.

Knowing these empty sea days would come, I created this filler post a few months ago and tucked it away. Since a few of you have expressed concern about my safety and whereabouts, it seems the right time to post it........

‘Telegram!’

Remember telegrams? I’ve received only two in my life: the first was a ‘break a leg’ from my aunt and uncle-who-danced-on-Broadway, on opening night of the Pleasantville Music Theatre’s Three Penny Opera, when I was 16. I played the ingenue. Type-casting, don’t you think? Though it’s addressed to me, the telegram above never reached me. It was sent c/o American Express, Madrid. And, back in 1969, I made it to 11 countries but I never made it to Spain.

Here’s what it says:

WORRIED ABOUT YOU STOP WRITE WHERE ABOUTS IMMEDIATELY STOP WHAT

SUMMER PLANS STOP LOVE

JANIF

Nowadays, Janis spells her name with an S. She must have given me this, her copy of it, when I finally returned home. You can’t read it, but up in the corner it states it was 15 words and cost $2.95. Western Union would have charged less if they hadn’t cunningly made ‘whereabouts’ two words.

This reminds me of Robert Benchley’s famous telegram from Venice to his editor at the New Yorker:

STREETS FULL OF WATER. PLEASE ADVISE.

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