Some of you may remember John Ciardi. Decades ago, NPR featured a short item on language by him in the morning. This poem from today’s Writer’s Almanac is by him. It’s called “Bees and Morning Glories.”
Morning glories, pale as a mist drying,
fade from the heat of the day, but already
hunchback bees in pirate pants and with peg-leg
hooks have found and are boarding them.
This could do for the sack of the imaginary
fleet. The raiders loot the galleons even as they
one by one vanish and leave still real
only what has been snatched out of the spell.
I’ve never seen bees more purposeful except
when the hive is threatened. They know
the good of it must be grabbed and hauled
before the whole feast wisps off.
They swarm in light and, fast, dive in,
then drone out, slow, their pantaloons heavy
with gold and sunlight. The line of them,
like thin smoke, wafts over the hedge.
And back again to find the fleet gone.
Well, they got this day’s good of it. Off
they cruise to what stays open longer.
Nothing green gives honey. And by now
you’d have to look twice to see more than green
where all those white sails trembled
when the world was misty and open
and the prize was there to be taken.
On this date in Dublin Ireland in 1865, William Butler Yeats was born. The Writer’s Almanac shares this quote of his:
“Now that my ladder’s gone / I must lie down where all the ladders start / In the foul rag and bone shop of the heart.”
C’mon Bill — lighten up. It’s a lovely Spring day out there.
In the puzzle today, at 45A for the lovely clue “Emulates Niobe” the answer was MOURNS. You know how I like the say the puzzle sometimes opens little doors to walk through? Well, Rex shared this with us today related to Niobe. I first ran into this actor, Andrew Scott, when he played the role of the priest in Fleabag, a show I enjoyed very much. You could tell how good he is.
Che Guevara was born on this date in 1928 in Argentina. He died young, at 39, executed by CIA-assisted Bolivian forces.
You’ve all seen the iconic pictures of Che, but our incredible photographer Phil was at Che’s bar mitzvah and has this family shot from the event for us. That’s Che way on the left, next to his mom.
On the topic of Che Guevara’s bar mitzvah, we had George dig out Che’s haftorah portion. It relates the story of how an angel of the Lord appeared to this guy Manoah’s wife, who was having trouble having a child, and told her she’d be pregnant soon and to not drink alcohol or eat unclean foods. The angel didn’t say anything about getting enough exercise and keeping an eye on her blood pressure. Anyway, the kid was born and they named him Samson.
[Where else but in Owl Chatter will you learn about Che Guevara’s haftorah portion, I ask you? TBH, Che was not actually Jewish, but he did go to medical school. (George tells us he was Jew-ish.)]
Let’s face it, folks, it’s harder to be cool as an American than if we were, say, French, right? It’s been that way for, like, hmmmm, forever? And back in the 60s, French cool was pretty much defined by Francoise Hardy, through her moody ballads and her looks. She died at age 80 on Tuesday. Her death was announced by her son Thomas via an Instagram post that said simply “Mom is gone.”
She looked like this when she was here and young.
Bob Dylan fell for her, writing about her in the liner notes of “Another Side of Bob Dylan.” He began, “For Françoise Hardy/At the Seine’s edge/A giant shadow/Of Notre-Dame.” When he held his first concert in Paris, in May 1966, he refused to return to the stage after an intermission unless she came to see him in his dressing room. She did.
She was the only French singer on Rolling Stone’s 2023 list of the 200 best singers of all time. She is survived by her son Thomas, who is, undoubtedly, very cool.
Rest in peace, Francoise.
Ethel Barrymore popped in on us today, right off the bat at 1 down.
What’s up, EB? Lookin’ good! George! Get the lady a Fresca!
Winston Churchill proposed to her in 1900, but she married Russell Griswold Colt instead and they had three kids.
The Wellington Files 