Well, they say music is going to disappear, like books. Well, not music, of course, but the traditional ways of acquiring it and listening to it. Actually, the music industry is way ahead of the book publishing industry. It has gone through its crises and its purveyors and creators have learned that they have to give a little to get, eventually, a lot. When we were married we enjoyed one of Bill's first acquisitions, a radio-record-player console - does anyone remember those things that looked like a real piece of furniture, designed something like a coffin with nice handles/ hardware? It boasted continuous play: the record player dropped the next record down to be played, although record manufacturers didn't know that, so that you got side 3, not 2, and so on, for a long time. I used to play records - 33 1/3 rpm, Broadway shows - while I ironed. Those were in the days before Perma-Press. The first thing I bought with the first money I earned by writing was an electric mangle because I liked ironed sheets and - can you believe it? - tea towels. I had an aunt who used to iron diapers!!! I digress; this is about music. Yes, well, we had babies, four of them, and we couldn't afford to buy music, not for a long time. I missed too much to catch up, so I hung back with Vivaldi and Smetana et al. I am still interested in Broadway and now I usually get the Tony Award musical winners. I am a case of arrested development: I stopped at CDs. I don't understand iTunes. But then, I don't like ear buds. (Is that what they're called?) I have never liked wall-to-wall sound inside my head. It's too invasive. I have read of writers who like to write to music but I find that hard to believe. What happens to the inner dialogue with that kind of interference? Music should be pervasive, not invasive, but it's not going to disappear. That's all I can say about that.