What’s another word for thesaurus? Never mind. Peter Mark Roget was born on this date in 1779. His thesaurus, which took twelve years to complete, has been in print since its publication in 1852.

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Sometimes, if you don’t look the part, you don’t get the bennies. I was on the subway years ago when a decent-enough looking fellow got up, explained that he was having a hard time, and asked if anyone could spare some change. One passenger, a little skeptical, eyed him up and down and said, “Those are pretty nice shoes,” implying his plea might be a scam. The man answered immediately: “Eleven dollars at Goodwill. I’m homeless but not a bum.” Good answer.

This story by Cathy Winks is from tomorrow’s Met Diary.

I was visiting New York City for the first time in several years as the escort for my 91-year-old mother, who is still quite spry but no longer travels alone. I took my responsibilities seriously and ran interference for her on the street and in other crowded places.

As a treat, I got us tickets for a matinee of “Our Town.” Walking to the theater from the bus stop, we were more than a block away when we came across a long line of people. It wasn’t until we were halfway down the block that I realized the line was for “Our Town” ticketholders. I told my mother to just step into the line where we were at that point.

A woman behind us immediately began to chastise my mother for cutting the line. Embarrassed but indignant, I tried to shame the woman. “So you really want my 91-year-old mother to walk all the way to the back of the line?” I said.

The woman looked my mother up and down. “She looks pretty good,” she said.

I was fuming as we walked back to the end of the line. My mother, however, looked delighted as she trotted alongside me. “Did you hear her say I look pretty good?” she said.

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I was waiting to see how Rex would rate the puzzle today, because I found it extremely easy for a Saturday. He rated it “extremely easy.” There were nine across answers that spanned the grid, i.e., they were 15 letters long. But each one fell right into place with the help of just a few crosses. “Is there more?” was a good clue for CARE TO ELABORATE? And Yankee fans were happy to see “Yogi Berra or Joe DiMaggio, e.g.” as the clue for ITALIAN AMERICANS. And did you know that the “Dish that’s different from its cousins by the inclusion of potatoes,” is a SPANISH OMELETTE?

Kate WINSLET popped into the grid, clued via her Oscar in “The Reader.” Phil caught this shot of her at an inopportune time — the toilet in her apartment had just overflowed.

Another Cate popped in too: CATE Tiernan, author of the “Immortal Beloved” trilogy. Had no idea who she is. That’s a Saturday-worthy clue.

M.I.A. also dropped in, “Female rapper with the 2008 hit ‘Paper Planes.’” Apparently, it was a big hit but shot right by me. Her name is Mathangi “Maya” Arulpragasam. From 2006 to 2008, she lived in Bed–Stuy, Brooklyn, where she met Benjamin Bronfman of the Bronfman business family and the Lehman banking family. She gave birth to their son, Ikhyd Edgar Arular Bronfman, on February 13, 2009, three days after performing at the Grammy Awards, but they separated in 2012. Ikhyd? Srsly?

M.I.A. was raised as a Hindu but became a born-again Christian after seeing a vision of Jesus Christ. That’ll do it.

Here’s that tune.

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The largest tributary of the Mississippi ran down the center of the puzzle today, appropriately: OHIO. So you’ve probably got a hankerin’ to hear the Ohio River Boat Song. We’ve got it for you, courtesy of Commenter Son Volt. Float along and give it a listen.

Catarina, your lovely hair
Has more beauty, I declare
Than all the tresses there
From Smoketown to Oldham County
Be they black, red, gold or brown
Let them hang to lengths below
They mean not as much to me
As a melting flake of snow

And her dance is like the gleam
Of the sunlight on the stream
And the screeching blue jays seem
To form her name when screaming
But my heart is full of woe
For last night she made me go
And the tears begin to flow
As I sing the whole day through

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You all know what a palindrome is, right? Something that reads the same backwards and forwards: Madam, I’m Adam. Well, the puzzle opened up today with the start of a famous one: A man a plan a canal Panama. One commenter reminded me of a less famous great one I remembered too: “Go hang a salami, I’m a lasagna hog.”

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Here’s a poem called “Rest.” It’s by Richard Jones and is from today’s Writer’s Almanac.

It’s so late I could cut my lights
and drive the next fifty miles
of empty interstate
by starlight,
flying along in a dream,
countryside alive with shapes and shadows,
but exit ramps lined
with eighteen wheelers
and truckers sleeping in their cabs
make me consider pulling into a rest stop
and closing my eyes. I’ve done it before,
parking next to a family sleeping in a Chevy,
mom and dad up front, three kids in the back,
the windows slightly misted by the sleepers’ breath.
But instead of resting, I’d smoke a cigarette,
play the radio low, and keep watch over
the wayfarers in the car next to me,
a strange paternal concern
and compassion for their well being
rising up inside me.
This was before
I had children of my own,
and had felt the sharp edge of love
and anxiety whenever I tiptoed
into darkened rooms of sleep
to study the small, peaceful faces
of my beloved darlings. Now,
the fatherly feelings are so strong
the snoring truckers are lucky
I’m not standing on the running board,
tapping on the window,
asking, Is everything okay?
But it is. Everything’s fine.
The trucks are all together, sleeping
on the gravel shoulders of exit ramps,
and the crowded rest stop I’m driving by
is a perfect oasis in the moonlight.
The way I see it, I’ve got a second wind
and on the radio an all-night country station.
Nothing for me to do on this road
but drive and give thanks:
I’ll be home by dawn.

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Did you know Poor Richard’s Almanac was written by Benjamin Franklin. It’s true: Ben was writing as Richard, i.e., he was using a pseudonym. Here’s a vocabulary joke. (I just invented the genre.) So Billy picked up this babe at a bar and took her to a seedy motel. He told her his name was Bobby. As they undressed she asked him about birth control and he said, “Don’t worry, I’m using a pseudonym.”

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Phil should be getting ready to head over to Arrowhead soon — he’s with Taylor and will be watching the Chiefs game with her in her suite. Here’s a shot he just sent us. He says it’s the look she gave him right after he told her my pseudonym joke. Sorry Phil! — She’ll forgive you by halftime – it’s not that bad.

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Go Chiefs! Go Lions! See you tomorrow Chatterheads. Thanks for popping in.