We’re hitting the road this week. Driving the old Odyssey out to Sam and Sarah’s. We sold it to their friends Elizabeth and Richard from Chicago who are having twins, and two + one = need an Odyssey. Richard will fly out to Michigan to pick it up, and we’ll rent a car to drive home. It’s got 98K miles on it, but is riding very well. Body beat to shit (Caitlin’s adventures, don’t ask). I’m just happy to stop paying insurance on it. But enough about me.
This Tiny Love Story from today’s NYT is by Julie Taylor and is called “An Enduring Luster.”
One of the first things Jay told me was, “I love your hair.” It was 1995, and it was inky black from drugstore dye. After I got my first magazine job, it was colored red in a Madison Avenue salon. When we married, it was twisted in perfect ringlets. After two children, it was in a ponytail 24/7. In our L.A. years it was straightened weekly at a blow-dry bar. During the pandemic, it turned silver. And when it fell out in chunks last month after chemo, it was shaved off by my husband, who said, “I love you without hair.”
I was just remarking to Linda the other day that I wondered if there was enough warbling going on in the world. I mean, when’s the last time you warbled?
This story is from today’s Met Diary. It’s by Shelley Russell.
Dear Diary:
It was a bright clear morning in Manhattan. I was visiting from Arkansas, helping my college daughter settle into a summer program. While she was in class, I explored the city.
Wandering through Bryant Park, I spied a crowd of people with their phones out and all pointed in one direction. Some of them were cradling large cameras with long lenses.
I hurried over, eager for a celebrity sighting. The phones and lenses were angled downward at a cluster of bushes near the carousel.
The crowd spoke in hushed tones. I was confused.
“What’s going on?” I whispered to a particularly intense young man with a huge camera. His face was aglow.
“It’s amazing!” he said. “The mourning warbler. We don’t usually see him here!”
He lowered his camera, eager to show me shots of the small, brightly colored songbird. He explained its migratory pattern, its unique features and our stellar luck at being able to witness him.
I nodded gratefully, tickled at his joyous rapture over this avian miracle. He returned to his focus, kneeling for more shots.
A woman joined us.
“What is all this business?” she asked, her Australian accent evident.
“It’s the mourning warbler!” I said, having caught the enthusiasm. “It’s amazing!”
Anybody have any problems with this poster from a classroom?
Hard to imagine, right? I mean, if you had to check off boxes that said “Controversial” or “Not controversial,” would you have trouble picking one? Of course not.
And yet a sixth grade teacher in Meridian, Idaho, Sarah Inama, was ordered to take it down by her school district. Her principal cited district policy that classrooms must respect the rights of people to express differing opinions and that decorations are to be “content-neutral.” What?
Now, Sarah’s a reasonable and logical person. So she thought it through. It didn’t strike her as very complicated:
“There are only two opinions on this sign: Everyone is welcome here or not everyone is welcome here,” she says. “Since the sign is emphasizing that everyone, in regards to race or skin tone, is welcome here no matter what, immediately, I was like, the only other view of this is racist. And I said, ‘That sounds like racism to me.’”
Yup. Us too.
Nevertheless, she took the sign down as she was directed to. But over the weekend she found it impossible to live with herself, and she and her husband took it to the school and hung it back up. She has been advised that she may be fired.
She had meetings with district officials so they could explain the school policy to her. “The more we talked about it, the more it just solidified,” she says. “It seems so gross what they’re asking me to compromise about. I mean, there’s no way you’ll convince me that the differing view they’re trying to protect of that sign is not racist.”
Here’s the district’s position:
“Classrooms are places where students learn to read, write, think critically and build the skills needed for future success. While classroom decorations can contribute to the atmosphere, a truly welcoming and supportive environment is built through meaningful relationships and positive interactions between staff and students, not posters on the walls. Our focus is on fostering kindness, respect and academic achievement so that every student can thrive in a distraction-free learning environment.
“This policy is designed to maintain consistency across all classrooms while ensuring that no one group is targeted or offended by the display of certain items. While we respect individuals’ rights to express their perspectives, it is important to reaffirm that this situation is not about limiting speech or expression but about ensuring consistency in our classrooms and maintaining a learning environment free from distraction.”
Got a shovel? Fifty bucks to anyone who can find a bigger pile of horseshit.
George! Make sure there’s enough Fresca in the fridge. We’re having some people over later to welcome Sarah into the Owl Chatter Hall of Fame. How are we on chips?
If you were wondering what integrity, courage, and principles look like:
In the puzzle today, at 87A, the clue was “Metaphor for Juliet, in Romeo’s soliloquy,” and I’m proud that I remembered SUN.
But, soft! what light through yonder window breaks?
It is the east, and Juliet is the sun.
(Sigh. Young love.)
I think that was what led Commenter Son Volt to share this pretty song with us. It’s by Iron and Wine and is called “Sunset Soon Forgotten.”
Oh, and here’s Juliet now. You were in the puzzle today, J!
Listen, it’s probably the least of your worries, but that sill looks like it could use a little caulking or something. Just sayin’. If the rain starts seeping through you’re f*cked. Believe me, I’ve been there, in the Brooklyn house. Until we figured out what it was I wanted to kill myself. Oops. Sorry.
ODE is a very common XW answer. It was clued today with “Composition of Catullus in ancient Rome,” which upset one Anony Mouse:
“I am a Latin teacher and I never think of Catullus as writing ‘odes,’ even if there are addressees. We are far more likely to talk about his hendecasyllabics or elegiac couplets, or the epyllion that is poem 64.”
For sure! The epyllion. Thanks, Mouse!
For every poem I share here in Owl Chatter there are about twenty that don’t grab me. I’m going to start sharing pieces of those. Sort of my own personal Bulwer-Lytton contest. Here’s a snippet from a rejection today:
Like priestly imprisoned poets,
the poplars of blood have fallen asleep.
On the hills, the flocks of Bethlehem
chew arias of grass at sunset.
[I swear I did not make that up.]
I don’t know, kids. I’ve got a bad feeling about this.
Let’s hope for the best and leave it at that. Thanks for popping by. See you next time!
The Wellington Files 