We came very close to waking up in a guesthouse in Saranac Lake this morning. But instead of a burger and a local brew up there for dinner last night, it was Costco enchiladas (excellent, btw) and a can of Fiddlehead Ale at home. We were all set Friday night to shoot up to Lake Placid in the morning for the women’s ice hockey tournament final, to cheer our Princeton women on against the Yalies, but Quinnipiac thwarted us and won the semi-final, 2-1 in OT. D’oh! Next year for sure, ladies!
If you forgot what today is but do the NYTXW, you would have been reminded. It’s International Women’s Day! The puzzle was by Kelly Richardson and was called “Join Together,” which someone noted is a redundancy. It was an extra column wide (22) so it could contain the grid-spanning answer: INTERNATIONALWOMENSDAY. And each of the 22 letters was crossed (going down) by a specific woman’s name. It was an eclectic mix. GWEN Stefani provided the W, and NINA Simone the first N. Sandra Day OCONNOR added gravitas and the second O. EMMA WATSON (full name) provided the first T, and, whoa — who’s that crossing the first A? LILIUOKALANI? Ouch! The first (and last) queen of Hawaii? If you say so, Kelly.
Hi Em! Diet Coke okay? Phil says he had forgotten how pretty you are, but we don’t believe him.
Anna Howard SHAW, leader in the suffrage movement, provided the S. Shaw, who was also a physician, worked closely with Susan B. Anthony, and was a companion for 30 years to Anthony’s niece, Lucy. Only months before her death, Shaw said, “The only way to refute” the argument that America was a democracy–and therefore women were entitled to vote–was “to prove that women are not people.”
Rex has always argued for more women constructors and a greater female presence in the puzzles, but he felt the execution today fell flat. Just gave it 2.5 stars (out of five). For one thing, to keep it tighter, he didn’t think there should be any other women in the puzzle, beside the 22 central ones. But then we would have lost THERESA. It was THERESA May, but it led Son Volt to share this unusual song with us about Saint Theresa of Avila, a Carmelized nun from the 1500s.
A cat in gold goes alone . . .
In case you were wondering, Taylor was not among the 22 crossing women, but she was given a nod at 48A: “‘____ Song’ (Taylor Swift hit).” Answer: OUR. Fair enough.
Getting back to the puzzle, Commenter mmorgan posted: Not the puzzle’s fault, but the idea of women having a day (or Blacks having a history month) really bothers me. There, there’s your day (or your month), enjoy your little crumb and now we can go back to ignoring you. It’s condescending and demeaning. Again, not the puzzle’s fault.
I replied: That’s one way of looking at it, and I understand. But, for example, Pride month really mattered to my granddaughter when she was 15 and had a lot of gay and trans friends who were struggling. It resonated beyond its term.
mmorgan answered: Good point. But Pride Month seems more an organically-emergent celebration of and by people themselves and the others seem more imposed by decree. Black History month in particular feels that way, since Black history is basically American history that should be studied every month.
Among the many reasons we are in love with Caitlin Clark is that she spells Caitlin correctly. She certainly deserves a spot, amirite? So at 55A, the clue for IOWA (Hi Pam!) was “Caitlin Clark’s alma mater.”
Again, courtesy of Son Volt:
I hope all you beautiful women out there — especially my Linda (and our Wilma), Caitlin, Sarah, Robin (the artist formerly known as Lianna), and Zozo, are having the best day.
Remember when you first learned about Obama, like, way back years ago? His extraordinary oratorical artistry? That version of O came back to speak at Jessie Jackson’s funeral. In case you missed it:
“We are living in a time when it can be hard to hope. Each day we wake up to some new assault on our democratic institutions, another setback to the idea of the rule of law, an offense to common decency. Every day you wake up to things you just didn’t think were possible. Each day, we’re told by those in high office to fear each other and to turn on each other, and that some Americans count more than others, and that some don’t even count at all. Everywhere we see greed and bigotry being celebrated and bullying and mockery masquerading as strength, we see science and expertise denigrated while ignorance and dishonesty and cruelty and corruption are reaping untold rewards. Every single day we see that, and it’s hard to hope in those moments. So it may be tempting to get discouraged, to give into cynicism. It may be tempting for some to compromise with power, and grab what you can, or even for good people to maybe just put your head down and wait for the storm to pass.”
But, Obama said, Jackson’s life “inspires us to take a harder path. His voice calls on each of us to be heralds of change, to be messengers of hope…. Wherever we have a chance to make an impact, whether it’s in our school or our workplaces or our neighborhoods or our cities, or in Owl Chatter, not for fame, not for glory, or because success is guaranteed, but because it gives our life purpose, because it aligns with what our faith tells us God demands, and because if we don’t step up, no one else will.”
Here’s a story from today’s Met Diary that could double as a tiny love story. It’s by Sarah Bareau and is called “On the Aisle.”
My seat was the second one in on the first row. Eventually, a gentleman with a round face, white hair and dark rimmed glasses took the aisle seat.
We acknowledged each other and the play began. It ran without an intermission. As I stood to leave, the gentleman with the round face, white hair and dark rimmed glasses asked if I would like to have a bite with him.
“Oh, no thank you,” I said. “I’m not hungry.”
But then that voice in my head made me speak up.
“But I could have a glass of wine!” I said.
He perked up.
We left the theater and were together for 12 years.
That story reminded me of an “aisle seat” story of my own which I told here a long time ago, but finally wrote up and submitted. Here it is:
For several decades, until I retired, I rode the NJ Transit train from Chatham in to Penn Station. I would take one seat of a pair, and hope no one would sit next to me so I could spread out a bit. Some people increase their chances of keeping that second seat free by either placing a bag on it, or by sitting in the outside seat. And the etiquette has always been to cede it gladly if anyone asks for it.
One day, for the trip home from the city, the woman in front of me “doubled up.” I.e., she both placed her bag on the open seat and sat in the outside seat. But the train was filling up pretty quickly and a man soon asked her for the seat. “I’m saving it for my husband,” she told him, and he moved on. A moment later a woman asked for the seat and the scene repeated itself. Then again. And again. She was swatting them away, like a hockey goalie stopping shots and rebounds. Until one woman stood her ground. “You can’t save seats here,” she stated firmly. The sitting woman explained that her husband had just texted and was very close. “But he’s not here and you cannot save that seat.” It went on like that for a bit until the puck bounced over the goal line: The sitting woman caved. The other woman took the seat with a well-earned “Hrrrumph.”
Then the husband arrived. He looked down at his wife, incredulously. “You didn’t save me a seat!!” he exclaimed, accusatorily. At this point, the gentleman sitting next to me, and I, choked back our laughter as best we could.
“I tried to,” the poor wife said.
Oh, she did, she did. But the husband was having none of that, and just marched off in a huff.
OMG, that train ticket was worth every penny that day, especially with my senior discount.
We caught a few spring training innings of the Gnats. Good idea to pick up veteran arm Miles Mikelas. He gave up a three-spot early, but looked pretty strong over three innings. Seemed like a real mensch in an interview with the lovely Alexa Datt, aka Who Datt? MM should be an excellent presence in the clubhouse full of toddlers. Nice moustache too. He said there’s a competition for best ‘stache on the team. We’ll have to weigh in once the season starts. Here are Datt and Miles. Yup, great ‘stache.
Can’t top those two punim. See you tomorrow.
The Wellington Files 
One response to “Women”
i like Datt……!
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