What Have We Done For Her Lately?

I can now check off "See Aretha sing live" from the list of things I have to do in this lifetime. Last night at the US Open, there she was, singing "R-E-S-P-E-C-T" in honor of the late Althea Gibson, who won the tournament fifty years ago. A few bars into the music, it was plain to hear that Aretha still got it. Too bad the predominantly white upper middle class tennis fans didn't--unsure whether to clap their hands, or stand up, much less sing along. Anyways, Althea won the US Open and Wimbledon back in the 50s when the phrase "You go, girl!" wasn't quite what they said to fabulous female blathletes. Out in full force to acknowledge as much were Phylicia Rashad. Roberta Flack. Debi Thomas. Then during one of the breaks between games, blaring over the speakers was Janet Jackson music and lo and behold, the stadium camera zoomed in on Nasty Girl! My friends and I oohed and aahed, as we waited for her to acknowledge the crowd. Exposing a nipple would have been too much to ask, but maybe dance a little the way Aretha had? No. Nothing. She just sat there. And sat there. And sat there. On an escapade, baby!