I didn’t think I’d like the poem in The Writer’s Almanac today. The title is a little weird — “Widnoon.” It has to be pretty simple to get through my thick head, and that didn’t seem simple. But I was wrong, though I did have to read it a few times to appreciate it, so here it is. It’s by W. S. Merwin.
On the green hill with the river beyond it
long ago and my father there
and my grandmother standing in her faded clothes
wrinkled high-laced black shoes in the spring grass
among the few gravestones inside their low fence
by the small white wooden church
the clear panes of its windows
letting the scene through from the windows
on the other side of the empty room
and a view of the trees over there
my grandmother hardly turned her head
staring like a cloud at the empty air
not looking at the green glass gravestone
with the name on it of the man to whom
she had been married and who had been
my father’s father she went on saying nothing
her eyes wandering above the trees
that hid the river from where we were
a place where she had stood with him one time
when they were young and the bell kept ringing
I liked Met Diary today too. (I get the Sunday MD on Saturday.) It was full of pieces where absolutely nothing happens, like the parody piece I sent in where I get into a cab, reach my destination, and get out. Here’s the one I liked best, by Rebecca Chandler.
As I sat on the subway on a Wednesday morning, my eyes drifted from the clock on the upper left screen on my phone to the charge signal on the right. I was going to be late for a meeting, and my phone was at 1 percent.
I looked up to see how many stops I was from my Midtown destination and realized I had gotten on the wrong train. I sighed and got off in the heart of Chinatown.
With my phone now asleep, I removed my headphones and headed toward a different station, listening to the bustle and murmurs coming from a sidewalk fish market as I started to walk.
When I got on the next train, there was a young couple with a stroller sitting across from me. As my eyes drifted to the right, I saw an older woman sitting near the couple playing peekaboo with the baby in the stroller.
I smiled.
The young couple smiled at me smiling at the woman, who was smiling at the baby, who was smiling at the woman.
I got off at 42nd Street.
It was like that scene in Reservoir Dogs where everyone is pointing a gun at someone else, except with smiles.
Peekaboo!
Have you heard of SYNESTHESIA? The clue for it was: “Neuropsychological trait in which one might ascribe colors to numbers or tastes to words.” It’s new to me and fascinating. (Oliver Sachs wrote about it in “The Man Who Mistook His Wife for a Hat.”)
Wanderlust posted this comment, which initiated a short back-and-forth:
“A friend was describing this strange phenomenon he’d read about regarding people who associate colors with letters and numbers, and I said, ‘Doesn’t everybody?’ We decided I have SYNESTHESIA. I do think of every letter as having a color and some have textures. To pick a random chain, J is light purple, K is orange and L is kelly green … for me. Another synesthete might have different colors for those letters. I’ve read a lot about it and some people feel it much more strongly than I do. The colors are leaping off the page as they read. Others incorporate sounds. It’s not a bad condition to have.”
Weezie wrote:
“I have a mild version of it; a dear friend refuses to hear about it on the grounds that her four years of art school was more than a lifetime’s worth of listening to people talk about what colors numbers are.”
Then Wanderlust:
Hi, fellow mild synesthete. Since I posted what colors J, K and L are for me, I’m curious what they are for you.
Weezie’s reply:
“I actually don’t have colors for letters! I do for some numbers, like 4 is definitely a rich spring leaves green, but it’s more about colors and certain sounds, especially music. Like, the red-eyed vireo that’s endlessly chirping right now? That is so clearly a faded salmon pink. Letters have personalities in my head but not colors. J is someone taking a nap in an armchair, K is a toddler having a tantrum, L is an accountant. Brains are strange and fascinating!”
Pete chimed in next:
“My nephew has SYNESTHESIA, he’s an accomplished musician who sees music in colors. He’s also on the autistic scale, so when I ask him if the synesthesia influences his playing in any way, he really doesn’t get my question, he just plays. He just got called into a Prof’s office for a plagiarism issue in an essay in his master’s program – the prof fed his essay into an automated checker, and a previously published paper came up with the same content but without a citation in the essay. He had to ask the Prof what that paper was, the Prof didn’t know, so my nephew pointed out that he was the author of the paper in question. So, can you plagiarize yourself? Discuss.”
Here’s a song by Mayonnaise called Synesthesia. [Mayonnaise are a five-piece Filipino alt-rock band. Very good. Reminds me a little of Mumford and Sons.]
Here’s a light and jaunty poem Owl Chatter would like to send up to Vermont Lizzie. It just came in via email from the Poetry Foundation. It’s by J. Patrick Lewis and is called What to Wear Where.
When I was a boy
In Looziana,
We wore blue jeans
And a red bandanna.
My folks moved up
To the state of Maine,
We wore duck shoes
In slicker-suit rain.
My folks moved down
To the state of Texas,
We wore brand names
Like Lazy X’s.
Now that we’re living
It up in Vermont,
We wear pretty much
Whatever we want.
And, speaking of Vermont, the clue at 43A today was “Vermont municipality SE of Montpelier,” and the answer was BARRE. pabloinnh says he lives not too far from it and that it’s pronounced “berry.” Wow — good to know! When it partners with Wilkes, it’s pronounced “bair-uh.” (In connection with GLOAT, he also said: “Both my sons won sportsmanship awards in HS and I told them the downside was they couldn’t brag about them.”)
Here’s what Pete had to say about BARRE:
“And who doesn’t know BARRE VT? It has a population of over 8,000 for cripes sake. It’s the only hamlet+ sized area east of Montpelier until you get to Maine. It’s also the self-proclaimed ‘Granite Capital of World’! I know, being self-proclaimed anything doesn’t amount to much, but still, these 8000 people at least have the gumption to make grandiose claims, and you don’t want to ignore 8000 with gumption. They’d probably like to tell you that if you have granite counters in your kitchen you have them to thank, but their lawyers have advised then not to do so, as all the radon that’s seeping out of those counters and killing you and your family represents a huge liability for them. Gumption alone ain’t going to erase that fact.”
Do you know the symbol for Capricorn? I thought I did — after all, it’s my goddamn sign — but I’ve been wrong all these years! Well, half-wrong. It was simply clued at 32D as “Capricorn’s symbol.” So I thought “goat.” When I saw the answer had seven letters, I figured it might be “the goat.” But it turns out to be SEA GOAT. In fact, the original animal associated with the sign is the mythological sea goat — half goat, half fish. How did I not know this? Am I half moron? Don’t answer that!
There was a pair of SKORTS in the puzzle — you know, those combination skirt/shorts. The clue was “Golfing attire,” and it was near CUTE and ER NURSES, in the SE corner, where the dirty old men hang out, apparently. That’s the same corner where the miniskirt and ASCEND appeared a few days ago. My extensive research reveals that skorts are generally less sexy than miniskirts, to no surprise, but one of my tax students looked pretty good wearing this pair to our final exam last week.
There was so much wonderful stuff in the puzzle today — a real FEAST, which was the answer at 27A, for “quite a spread.” Even curmudgeon Rex liked it.
I learned what an LOL CAT is — it’s a photograph of a cute cat on the internet accompanied by a humorous caption that is usually misspelled and grammatically incorrect. They are uniformly terrible, so I’ll spare you an example.
There was BEARD OIL, clued with “muttonchops moisturizer.” Where else but in Owl Chatter can you run into great stuff like this! I couldn’t get this one because I wrongly thought muttonchops was a mustache and kept thinking of mustache wax. It’s more “beardy.” Here’s a famous eggsample.
And if you’re a Wizard of Oz fan, the clue at 31D was “Dorothy, to the Wicked Witch of the West,” and the answer was MY PRETTY.
Welly tells me his pretty is Wilma. He’s very romantic.
Owl Chatter Sports Dept. After chattering about umpire Don Denkinger recently, I went on eBay and spent a few bucks for his autograph to add to my collection. It’s not very valuable, but “The Call” played such a big part in baseball history, I wanted to have it. It came with the autograph of another ump, John Shulock, who is still alive, and just turned 76.
Shulock umped 3,050 games over 24 years. He got his start as a replacement ump during the 1979 umpires’ union strike (a different type of strike from the ones they usually call). When the strike ended, Shulock was one of seven replacements offered a position. But his crossing the picket line left a sour taste. Fifteen years later, Denkinger said “To this day, there are still hard feelings.”
Shulock was involved in an ugly scene in Sept., 1999, when he was struck in the mask by a fastball from Tampa Bay pitcher Wilson Alvarez. Thinking he had been intentionally targeted and that the catcher DiFelice made no effort to catch the ball, Shulock charged toward Alvarez until he was intercepted by DiFelice. He was cited by league officials for display of temper, overly aggressive behavior, and physical contact with DiFelice. He was also disciplined for inappropriate public remarks when he told reporters, “I hope somebody smokes a line drive off Alvarez’s head. I’ll be the first to laugh.”
I think he’d be the only one to laugh, no?
See you tomorrow, everybody! Thanks for poppin’ by.
The Wellington Files 