From the day
Perspective: The Anxious Local · Sound
The scratchy phonograph keeps bleating "I Didn't Raise My Boy to Be a Soldier," but the newsboys are shouting over the melody about the Italian Premier marching us closer to the fray. It’s hard to swallow when every penny is pinched; I just handed over **$0.15** for a single gallon of gas, a price that makes my pulse jump as much as the talk of war. I watched a girl clutching a Raggedy Ann doll pull her skirts away from a stray dog as if it carried the "cooties," while the looming shadow of a loan to Greece hums through the telegraph wires. Between the roar of these new motor engines and the terrifying talk of sonar, the world feels far too loud to ever be safe again.