Six years ago, Keiko Kawano felt her smile was beginning to fade when she stopped doing certain voice exercises. She found it a struggle to lift the corners of her mouth. So she started learning about the facial muscles that play a role in smiling. After reviving her own smile, she set about helping others. Her motto is “more smile, more happiness.”
She started offering one-hour sessions in a gym and then began “teaching smiling” at nursing homes and for corporations. She had individual clients who wanted to develop a winning smile to land a job or get laid. Oops, I mean “improve marriage prospects.” IBM Japan engaged her for a session for their employees and their families. It was well-received. She’s a smile coach.
Her business took a dive when people hid their smiles behind masks (although she adjusted her focus to work on eyes), but when the pandemic passed and people unmasked, business boomed. Many people realized their smile muscles had atrophied behind masks. They needed Keiko’s help to get their smile back. And a nice smile can make you feel happy — it doesn’t have to be the other way around, i.e., the happy doesn’t have to come first. Psychologist Masami Yamaguchi, who has studied how babies look at their moms’ facial expressions, said: “Intentional muscle moves will send signals to your brain and generate positive feelings, even if you are not feeling happy.”
Here’s Keiko. She does have a pretty smile.
Yesterday’s Owl Chatter included some lyrics from Elton John’s Tiny Dancer. They included the line: “Pretty-eyed, pirate smile.” I looked up “pirate smile” today. The Urban Dictionary defines it as “a smile that will make you do anything. You know you’re gonna do it, right, wrong, good, or bad you’re gonna do it anyway.” It’s also defined as “a roguish smile: a dishonest or immoral smile that causes trouble.”
It’s hard to find examples. This one of Keira Knightly came up in the search. She’s not smiling, but I think it captures the feeling a little, no? Would you do what she asks?
And then there’s Susan’s smile. Vermont Lizzie sent me this shot this morning. I commented on Susan’s extraordinary smile and noted the coincidence of my writing about smiles today. Liz gave me permission to use it. For those of us lucky enough to have known Susan, it goes right to the heart.
Hi, S. Miss you.
The puzzle today played with words that should mean something when you remove a negative prefix, but don’t. E.g., if you change discombobulated to just “combobulated,” it doesn’t mean poised. The general term for words that are broken apart is “unpaired words,” and when the prefix is a negative, they are called orphaned negatives.
Commenter Lynn shared this:
At Milwaukee Mitchell Airport, they have a “recombobulation area” just past the TSA checkpoint, where you can collect your stuff, put your shoes back on, and generally recover from being discombobulated after going through security. From what I understand, it is the only airport with such a designation.
Can you use some recombobulation?
Did you know that NACHOS are named after their inventor Ignacio Anaya? His nickname was Nacho. He worked in a restaurant in Mexico not far from the U.S. border and a U.S. army base. Some army wives popped in one day when the chef was out. He said, Hold on, I’ll whip something up. He threw some tostadas on a plate, grated Wisconsin cheese on top, put it all under a broiler, and then topped it with jalapenos. The rest is history. Anaya never directly profited from his “invention,” but was promoted to chef and eventually opened a restaurant of his own.
He met a hot little jalapeno pepper named Marie Antoinette Salinas, and married her. They had nine kids. She let them eat cake. Anaya lived to age 80. He was honored posthumously with a bronze plaque in Piedras Negras. That city also holds a three-day Nacho Fest every year around October 21, the International Day of the Nacho.
This might look like the original concoction:
Elisabeth SHUE was in the puzzle, clued as “Actress Elisabeth of Leaving Las Vegas, a bruising film with Nicolas Cage who is determined to drink himself to death in Vegas, literally. She’s a hooker and they meet up. I forget if he actually dies. She received an Oscar nomination for Best Actress for her work, but lost out to Susan Sarandon in Dead Man Walking. Cage won the Best Actor Oscar for his role.
Shue is 59 today. She was only 32 in the film, and quite alluring. She was born in Wilmington DE, but raised in South Orange NJ — a Jersey girl! — on the Morris-Essex line no less. She attended Wellesley College and then Harvard. She has been married to film director Davis Guggenheim since 1994 and they have 3 kids.
OK fellas, eyes down here. Let’s finish with a bad call. It was October 26, 1985, Game 6 of the World Series between St. Louis and Kansas City. STL had a 3-2 lead in games and was up 1-0 in Game 6 going into the bottom of the ninth. They just needed three more outs to win the Series.
KC’s Jorge Orta hit a slow grounder to Jack Clark at first who tossed to the pitcher Todd Worrell covering. Orta was out by a step but Don Denkinger, umping at first base, called him safe. The TV replays confirmed that Orta was out, but this was before replays could be used to reverse calls. So Orta was safe. KC rallied and went on to win the game 2-1. The next day they trounced STL 11-0 in Game 7 for the Series win.
Denkinger believed he got the call right until he viewed the replay after the game with Commissioner Pete Ueberroth, the Commish with the hardest name to spell in MLB history. I had to check, like, five times. About 30 years later, in a Sports Illustrated interview, Denkinger explained how he blew what came to be known as “The Call.” Worrell, who took the throw at first, was tall and the throw came in high. So Denkinger could not watch Worrell’s glove and foot at the same time. And the crowd noise along with the softly tossed throw prevented him from hearing when the ball hit the glove. (A common umpiring technique at first base is to watch the base while listening for the “thock” of the catch.) It was the perfect storm for a blown call.
Denkinger received death threats, and his home in Iowa was given police protection. The FBI investigated the most serious notes he received. He eventually made peace with The Call, keeping a framed photo of it in his home, and a painting of it in a restaurant he owned. He autographed photos of it for fans. He even reconciled with Whitey Herzog, the Cards’ manager, and spoke at a dinner for the Whitey Herzog Youth Foundation in 2005.
He had an excellent 30-year career. He was behind the plate for the 1978 Yankees-Boston tiebreaking game for the A.L. pennant (the Bucky Dent game), and for Game 7 of the 1991 WS, when Minny’s Jack Morris pitched a 10-inning shutout to beat Atlanta, 1-0. He called balls and strikes when Nolan Ryan threw his sixth no-hitter in 1990. Perhaps fittingly, his final game was in Kansas City on June 2, 1998. He retired due to a bum knee.
Don Denkinger died in Iowa last Friday at age 86. He is survived by his wife Gayle and their three daughters. Unless Saint Peter is a Cardinals’ fan, he should be up there in heaven by now, calling ’em as he sees ’em.
Good night everybody. See you tomorrow!
The Wellington Files 