If you have moments of doubt about the value you’ve contributed to the world, take comfort in the fact that Leonardo da Vinci once wrote “I have offended God and mankind because my work didn’t reach the quality it should have.”
It’s his birthday today. He was born out of wedlock in Tuscany to a peasant woman in 1452. His dad was a notary. Here’s something I didn’t know about him — he wrote in mirror-image script, i.e., backwards. This may have been easier because he was a lefty, but still. . . He never married and had few close relationships with women. He was very close with several of his male students and was likely gay. Whatever. Happy Birthday Leo!
It’s also the birthday of Henry James, born in NYC in 1843. I’ve read some of his stuff, but I must say I found it a little stiff. I’m not alone. Oscar Wilde was so bored by James’s writing, he said that James “wrote fiction as if it were a painful duty.” T.S. Eliot quipped, “James has a mind so fine that no idea could violate it.” And Ginny Wolff once wrote to a friend, “Please tell me what you find in Henry James. We have his works here, and I read, and I can’t find anything but faintly tinged rose water, urbane and sleek, but vulgar and pale. Is there really any sense in it?”
A professor of mine once told a story in which a reader complained to James that he could spend a whole paragraph on a woman touching a handkerchief to her forehead. And James replied, “My good woman — a woman touching a handkerchief to her forehead is an entire novel.”
Nevertheless, Happy Birthday HJ!
Rather than dig up a photo of the stodgy old fellow, here’s Cybill Shepherd, who played James’s Daisy Miller in the film version.
And speaking of the droolingly beautiful, LMS treated us to a discussion of the difference between drool and slobber. It came about because the clue at 3D today was “[I am so-o-o hungry]” and the answer was DROOL. Here’s LMS:
“Then I sat, yet again, pondering the difference between DROOL and slobber. Slobber feels much more active and exuberant, like the slobberer is fully engaged and aware. But DROOL feels quieter and sneakier. Like maybe the DROOLer isn’t even aware of their offense. Also, DROOL is a naptime event. If I happen upon a napper who is slobbering, I’ma back myself out of the room on tippy toe and rethink my relationship with this person.”
On the answer GOING RATES, she noted: “reminded me of all the pay toilets in Europe.”
In my eyes, though, for laughs, nothing can top her comments on “Mom.” Here’s today’s, triggered by the answer THEME, which was clued by “Word with party or park.”
Mom and I have a THEME party coming up – a Derby Day at the clubhouse of our little community. She was so excited about it, about having me participate with her, that I didn’t have the heart to say no. There will be food! And games! And we have to dress up and wear hats! And this year no one will be admitted without a ticket, so we have to get ours fast! (Apparently last year, there were sneakers-in who crashed the event, so the food ran out pretty quickly. People are still talking about it.) Look. I’m no spring chicken, but I can tell you that an afternoon spent being charming to Mom’s friends, pretending to enjoy the cloying punch (ladled out from the actual punch bowl into the matching little punch glasses), nibbling on the nuts and after-dinner mints. . . jeez Louise as I type this, I hate myself for being such a jerk. But now I’m caught up in finding the perfect white hat to go with my outfit. And I’m borrowing some white gloves from my sister. Mom got her hat from a nearby Goodwill-type store for only $3. I’m looking on Amazon for mine. Go big, or go home.
Ed Koren died yesterday in Brookfield, VT, at age 87. Starting in May of 1962, thousands of his cartoons appeared in The New Yorker, many with his large, cheerful, furry animal characters, or, below, not so cheerful. (Note the crossed arms and legs.)
In case you can’t read the caption, it says: Rufus here is the center of our life.
Koren was on the art faculty at Brown until 1977, which, happily, overlapped with our friend Bob’s time up there. I sent Bob the sad news and he replied saying Koren was an amazing guy.
One of my favorites of his graced the cover of one of his collections. A little girl is standing with a look of utter despair on her face. She is holding a cone out of which fell the scoop of ice cream it previously contained. The splat of ice cream is on the ground at her feet. Her mom is bending over her sympathetically and says: “Do you want to talk about it?”
Many years ago, I had an idea for a Koren cartoon. There’s a car with a bumper sticker on it that says, “We Brake for Animals.” It’s stopped on the road, and in front of it is a giant furry Koren creature, smiling down on it benevolently. I sent the suggestion to Koren, care of The New Yorker. He wrote back that they are not permitted to take suggestions, but then he drew it, wonderfully, on the paper I wrote my letter on. I still have it somewhere in the house — if I can find it, I’ll show it to you.
“I’m the kind of American middle-class folk I like to draw,” Koren said in 1982. He found subjects everywhere. Walking in the woods, he was passed by a jogger, who called out: “Working on my quads!”
“There’s a cartoon,” he said.
The NYT obit included these:
A bearded snob on his grand portico greets a grimy plumber: “Ah, Hopkins! Finalmente!”
A bathroom mirror speaks a dreaded morning message: “Time has not been kind to you.”
As two bearlike creatures look hungrily up a tree trunk at a hiking couple cowering in the branches, the man says to his wife, “Tell them how hard we’ve worked to protect their habitat.
He moved to Vermont in 1982. He joined the volunteer fire department and was its captain for 30 years. He never retired from drawing. For The New Yorker’s April 17 issue, he drew Moses on a mount overlooking his people and holding up a stone tablet of the Ten Commandments while proclaiming, “Time for an update!”
He is survived by his wife, three children, two grandchildren, and this guy:
Rest in peace, Koren.
In today’s puzzle, some were flummoxed by the clue “Many a unicorn,” the answer for which was TECH STARTUP. So Rocketman explained:
“A unicorn is a start-up/private company that has a valuation of more than one billion dollars. A NYT article today about the rising trend of criminal prosecutions of start-up executives (The End of Faking It in Silicon Valley) noted that there are currently around 1200 such companies. I worked for one of the ones mentioned in the article and my former boss reports for prison on April 27th. I have a nice bottle of champagne reserved for the occasion.”
And then there was “Papal topper,” the answer for which was TIARA. Really? He wears a tiara? Get outta here! Sailor explained:
“The Papal TIARA (a three-tiered crown, actually) was retired by Paul VI in a gesture of support for the spirit of the Second Vatican Council. No pope has worn it since 1963. So a bishop’s mitre has been the actual “Papal topper” for the last 60 years.”
And here’s Southside Johnny on the matter: I’ll admit to being confused by the clue for TIARA. I know that the Catholic Church has been struggling with the whole gender-bending and age of consent quagmire for like centuries now, but still the thought of the Pope in a Miss Universe contest still seemed like a stretch to me. Then I saw that a TIARA is also a diadem “worn by a Pope” – so today I learned that diadem is a synonym for a funny hat.
27A was “Smoking,” and the answer was RED HOT. Here’s Billy Lee Riley letting you know that his gal is RED HOT and your gal ain’t doodley-squat. Hrrrrumph!
Dinner at Bell’s Tavern tonight in Lambertville with Dan and Mary. Happy Birthday (yesterday) Mary! I ordered their “Signature Burger,” but had to send it back — there was ink all over it!
Ba da boom!
See you tomorrow. Thanks for stopping by.
The Wellington Files 