The Wellington Files

Walter O’Malley, whose name Brooklynites utter with the same degree of loathing Jews reserve for the Nazis, was the man most responsible for moving the Dodgers to LA. And the woman most responsible was Roz Wyman, who died last Wednesday, at age 92. In 1953, when she was 22, she became the youngest person (and only the second woman), elected to the LA City Council, having based her campaign on a promise to bring major league baseball to the city. Once in office, she was crucial to the effort to convince O’Malley to move the team. O’Malley himself said “Roz did it,” and that “she deserves all the credit.” How beloved a figure is she in LA sports history? Well, she was honored with a bobblehead doll .

It’s a good likeness.

If you read Rex Parker’s daily NYT puzzle blog you will find him to be a nitpicker and curmudgeon of the highest order, albeit a lovable one. Today, in honor of Halloween, someone posted an imaginary scene between him and a 4-year-old trick-or-treater:

4YO – Trick or treat!
Rex – What are you supposed to be?
4YO – I’m a ghost.
Rex – You call that a ghost costume? The eye holes are not symmetrical and there’s a tag on it. And since when do ghosts wear Nikes?
4YO – Can I have some candy mister?
Rex – OK. But next year you better have a better costume.

The puzzle had a term that was new to me: DOOM SCROLLS, clued as “Binges on bad news, in modern slang.” It prompted commenter LMS to chat about her web “scrolling” habits, and she shared this very short video, which I dare you not to laugh out loud at: https://www.youtube.com/shorts/Sgw3zXzTNO8

I’m not the only one keeping a tuchas watch on the puzzle. A Rex commenter is keeping close track too, and noted that today’s grid contained SEAT, END, and ASSay. He also thought ASTOR could qualify, as in the phrase: “I got my ASTOR up pretty bad by that Rottweiler.” I posted a response, wondering if ERSE (clued as “Gaelic dialect”), could qualify, as a variant of the British “arse.” I’ll let you know if he gets back to me, or if he’s a SNOOT (“Stuck-up sort”).

Appropriate for a Monday Monday puzzle, The Mamas & The Papas made an appearance. The question as to exactly how Cass Elliot died came up recently. So let’s take a look.

Cass was born Ellen Naomi Cohen in Baltimore. All four of her grandparents were Russian Jewish immigrants. After The Mamas and The Papas “disbanded,” she maintained a solo career that was going well. After a successful performance in London, she celebrated for 24 hours straight at various venues (including at Mick Jagger’s home for his 32nd birthday). She eventually got to sleep at singer-songwriter Harry Nilsson’s apartment, where she died in her sleep of heart failure, at age 32.

There are two theories for how the legend grew that she died from choking on a ham sandwich. The first is that the doctor who was called to her room noticed a half-eaten ham sandwich, and speculated to the press that it might have had something to do with her death. The autopsy had not been performed yet to establish the actual cause. The second is that the sandwich story was promoted by her manager to protect her reputation fearing the actual cause was drug-related. In fact, no food was found in her windpipe and no drugs in her system.

The constructor of today’s puzzle, Emily Carroll, may have wanted to team a big man up with that big woman, because SHAQ O’Neal is also in the grid. I’m not going to dwell on him much, other than to note he’s a Jersey man, born in Newark, and that my favorite sentence in his wikipedia entry is “O’Neal came from a tall family.” Ya think?

Shakespeare’s Portia visits the puzzle today, identified as “The Merchant of Venice character who favors wordplay.” She has a line in which she comments on “the will of a living daughter curbed by the will of a dead father,” i.e., a play on the word “will.” (The second will refers to a will as a testamentary document.) She is better known for stating that “the quality of mercy is not strained,” which goes pretty far towards explaining why it’s so lumpy.

And she’s the first image I managed to place into the blog! This is Lynn Collins as Portia, quite beautiful. She played Portia in the 2004 movie version, with Al Pacino as Shylock. Portia is also wealthy and very sharp, thus she successfully argued the case against Shylock to save Antonio. (Oops — I forgot to say “spoiler alert.”) The New England School of Law recognized her legal acumen — it was called the Portia Law School when it was established in 1908 as a law school for women only, and it retained that name until 1969. Abigail Adams used Portia as her pen name when she wrote letters to hubby John Adams, who signed his “Lysander,” the handsome young man from Athens in A Midsummer Night’s Dream. I may start signing my notes to Linda like that. (Too late?) Last, the “Portia Hypothesis” holds that women with masculine-sounding names tend to be more successful in the legal profession than those with feminine-sounding names.

Other visitors to the grid today are Manhattan’s first Black elected district attorney, Alvin BRAGG, at 74D. Welcome counselor! He’s right next to YOYO MA at 75D, proving there’s always room for cello. And welcome as well to (Dame) ANNA WINTOUR of Vogue and Conde Nast. She should zhuzh things up a bit. And ERNIE PYLE, WWII correspondent, of whom Harry Truman said: “No man in this war has so well told the story of the American fighting man as American fighting men wanted it told. He deserves the gratitude of all his countrymen.” He was killed by Japanese machine gun fire, and was buried wearing his helmet, between an infantry private and a combat engineer.

But the star of the puzzle was ALAN TURING of “The Imitation Game” and Enigma Machine fame. The Enigma Machine is what the Germans used during the war to encrypt messages, and Turing helped decipher them for the good guys. As a letter in code was typed into the machine, its counterpart appeared above it (or something like that). And in the puzzle eight five-letter answers had to be “decoded” to get a Turing quote. But the code was given to us solvers, and the online version did the decoding for you, by flashing first the answers you entered and then the decoded quote — similar to how the Enigma Machine worked, I guess — you entered one version and then the other appeared. So we didn’t have to solve anything other than the regular puzzle, which was on the easy side. I mean, everyone knows Herbert Hoover’s middle name was CLARK, right?

Turing and the British were building on the groundbreaking (and code-breaking) work of Polish mathematician Marian Rejewski. Here’s a memorial dedicated to Rejewski in the Polish city of Bydgoszcz.

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OK, that’s about it for today. I’m going to stare a bit longer at Portia, above, and then go watch the Jets.

I’m sure you’re all as deflated as I am over the news that Tom Brady and Giselle Bundchen have decided to split (amicably) after 13 years together. “We still love each other,” Tom explained, “but the air has gone out of the marriage.” My favorite Tom Brady line was by Steve Somers of WFAN who said that within five years, Brady will be younger than his children.

In other sports news, how about them Phils! Realmuto’s game-winning dinger was the first World Series game-winning home run by a catcher since Carlton Fisk’s for the Bosox in 1975. Wow! Eerily, the puzzle today at 23A had “Word after White or Red,” and the answer was SOX. And the two teams Fisk played for were the Red Sox and the White Sox. I remember wondering whether he’d go into the Hall of Fame as a Red Sock or a White Sock, and my brother said “Maybe he’ll go in as an argyle.” In the end, he went in wearing a Boston cap. I only learned recently that it’s not the player’s choice as to which team cap he wears on his HOF plaque. The Hall decides.

The puzzle had some nice clues today. “Grant in folklore studies?” turned out to be THREE WISHES. (I have a dirty joke about a genie I’ll tell you later.) “‘Li’l Abner’ creature” turned out to be SHMOO, and “[Blank] C. Evans, journalist who co-founded All-Negro Comics (1947)” was ORRIN. (I’m not sure how helpful that “(1947)” was.) “All-Negro Comics” was the first comics magazine written and drawn solely by African-American writers and artists. It was the brainchild of Orrin Cromwell Evans, and the hero was Ace Harlem, a Black police detective. Only one issue was published.

Al Capp’s Shmoo is shaped like a plump bowling pin with stubby legs. It has smooth skin, eyebrows, and sparse whiskers—but no arms, nose, or ears. Its feet are short and round, but dexterous. It has a rich gamut of facial expressions and often expresses love by exuding hearts over its head. Shmoos reproduce asexually and are incredibly prolific, multiplying faster than rabbits. They require no sustenance other than air.

Those of you keeping track of the many appearances of a tuchas in the NYTXW will be pleased to know that the clue for 30D fits the bill: “When you might see a star’s moon?” The answer: SEX SCENE.

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The Jewish Genie. So this old Jewish guy, Murray, finds a lamp and rubs it and an old Jewish genie comes out. He says he can only grant one wish. That business about the three wishes is nonsense. So Murray says, OK, and he pulls a little map out of this wallet and shows it to the genie. “This is a map of the Middle East,” he explains. “The country in the middle is Israel, and it’s surrounded by Arab states. My wish is that you bring peace to this troubled region of the world.”

And the genie says, “Well, that’s sort of a socio-geo-political type of wish. Mostly we grant wishes for wealth, fame, personal happiness, that sort of thing. Can you come up with something along those lines?”

So Murray thinks for a while and then he takes a photo out of his wallet of a little gray-haired lady. He shows it to the genie and says, “This is my wife Estelle. It’s been a wonderful marriage and she’s a wonderful wife. But she’s always been hesitant about oral sex. So my wish is that you get her to loosen up in that area.”

And the genie stares at the picture for a while and says: “Let me take another look at that map.”

Will Nediger had quite a week. On Monday The New Yorker featured a puzzle of his on their “challenging” day, and, on Friday, the NYT threw us one of his as well. The clue for 34D in the NYer was “Joanna Newsom song title that’s rhymed with the lyric ‘loose legs.’” Well, I’ve never heard of Joanna Newsom, but “loose legs” caught my attention. The answer was GOOSE EGGS, and the lyric is:

Recently, a bottle of rye, and a friend, and me
On our five loose legs
Had a ramble, and spoke
Of the scrambling of broken hopes, and goose eggs

My favorite of his clues in that grid was: “Maker of the nail polish Haute to Trot” (ESSIE). Haute to Trot!

Nediger’s Friday NYT puzzle set the tone for me at 1 across: “Flummoxed,” — AT SEA. And that’s how I felt as I hacked my way through it. It didn’t help that Rex rated it “Easy.” But he (modestly) calls himself “the greatest crossword solver in the universe (when he co-solves with his wife),” and I’m not.

There was a nice crossing of I CAN’T LOOK (“This is too painful to watch!”) with OH GOD! (“This is a disaster!”) Well, it wasn’t that bad — I eventually completed it successfully.

How about 16A? — not exactly a gimme for me — “Symbolic hand gesture in Hinduism.” Turned out to be MUDRA. Huh? LMS jokingly noted that it was a gimme for her, since “I had to memorize all symbolic hand gestures in Hinduism back in the fifth grade. Snort.” Another comment was: “The thing that people would make with their fingers, making O’s with thumbs and forefingers as they sit cross-legged and close their eyes, to suggest ‘meditate’ in a game of charades: that would be a MUDRA.”

The clue for 37A was “Stocks,” and it took me forever to come up with BROTHS, even though I had THS. Here’s something I learned: Stock is made with bones, broth with meat and/or vegetables. The former is fattier from the marrow, the latter thinner with usually a lighter flavor.

There was a lovely “stack” of three long answers sitting atop one another: BURNER ACCOUNT, CINNAMON TOAST, and ROOKIE MISTAKE. Cinnamon toast made people think of midnight snacks, and one poster shared this comment:

“Had a roommate after college who always woke up in the middle of the night for a snack. Years later, I spent a night in the guest room at his home. About 3 AM I heard all this conversation in the kitchen and found my friend eating cereal accompanied by his 3 boys, ages 7, 5, and 3.”

15A referenced “Ecologist Leopold who advocated “thinking like a mountain.” It’s ALDO Leopold. And here’s a quote posted on Rex’s blog by Barbara S:

“We reached the old wolf in time to watch a fierce green fire dying in her eyes. I realized then, and have known ever since, that there was something new to me in those eyes – something known only to her and to the mountain. I was young then, and full of trigger-itch; I thought that because fewer wolves meant more deer, that no wolves would mean hunters’ paradise. But after seeing the green fire die, I sensed that neither the wolf nor the mountain agreed with such a view.…I now suspect that just as a deer herd lives in mortal fear of its wolves, so does a mountain live in mortal fear of its deer. And perhaps with better cause, for while a buck pulled down by wolves can be replaced in two or three years, a range pulled down by too many deer may fail of replacement in as many decades. So also with cows. The cowman who cleans his range of wolves does not realize that he is taking over the wolf’s job of trimming the herd to fit the range. He has not learned to think like a mountain. Hence we have dustbowls, and rivers washing the future into the sea.”
― Aldo Leopold, A Sand County Almanac

I learn so much from puzzles! Thankfully, almost none of it is even remotely useful. The clue for 24D was “Roll with many functions,” and the answer was DUCT TAPE. Many people think duct tape is used to repair ducts and is often wrongly called duck tape. But in fact its original name was duck tape because it’s made from cotton duck fabric. And it should not be used to repair ducts because heat from the duct unsticks the tape’s adhesive.

How about TOFF? Ever hear that word? I hadn’t. It’s British slang for an “aristocratic type.” It’s said derogatorily of someone exuding an air of superiority. So, an example of how it’s used might be: “F**K you, toff.”

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As the World Series begins, Yogi comes to mind. What a gift he was to us. Some of his teammates were lamenting the decline in attendance one season, and Yogi said: “If folks don’t want to come to the ballpark, you can’t stop ’em.”

Hard to argue with that.

Today’s puzzle was very well-constructed but the general cluing was a little blah. The trick was hard to discern and there was no “revealer,” tipping you off to what was going on. It was sink or swim, or, in my case, float around thrashing helplessly for a while. Here’s the deal:

There were six italicized across clues that turned out to be two-word answers with the second word differing from the first by only one letter. And you had to use both letters for the down answers. So, e.g., for the clue “Eat, quaintly,” the answer was BREAK BREAD, but you had to fill it in in just five squares, using BREA and then K/D. The K and D both fit into the last square (that’s called a rebus). Then a crossing down clue was “Place where everything should have a mate,” and the answer was SOCK DRAWER, with the K and D both being used. (LMS noted there is a second place where everything should have a mate — the place you keep all your Tupperware containers — with those damn disappearing or “extra” lids.)

In addition to that craftiness, some good clues/answers were: “Item of feline furniture” for CAT CONDO, and “Tiny pedestals of a sort” for TEES (think golf). It was also cute that BRAYS (“Complains, donkey-style”) was crossed by the ASS from TD PASS (“Reason for an end zone celebration”), giving us yet another tuchas in the puzzle — a regular feature in the NYTXW these days, giving a whole new meaning to the phrase “behind the times.”

Was there a mild political note in the puzzle? “Confident assertion” right in the center of the grid gave us the Obama-esque YES I CAN, and “DC address?” gave us SOTU (for State Of The Union (address)). One Rex commenter noted “When Trump gave the SOTU, all I could think was STFU.”

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I was waiting for a train on the subway platform years ago when an announcement came out of the loudspeakers. But it was just blasts of static — you couldn’t make out a single word. Then it was repeated in Spanish. It was still just static, but you could tell it was Spanish static. And what I loved about the scene was, there were tons of people on the platform, and not one person tried to find out what was said. Not one person said “What was that?” or “Could you understand that?” And that was because everyone knows that in the entire history of the subway system every announcement ever made was a complete lie. “We will be moving shortly.” “There is a train directly behind this one.” Or my favorite: “We are sorry for the inconvenience.” You ever see those guys who drive the trains? They have death in their eyes and are counting the minutes to retirement. I asked one once: “Does this train stop at 18th Street?,” and he just stared at me blankly and said “Please kill me.” You think they care about our inconvenience? You think he’s worrying — “Oh, no, Professor Liveson may be late for his class because of this delay — what will his students do?”

Even when the news is bad, it’s a lie. I was on a train once, going up to Hunter, and I was in great shape. I had a seat, a book to read, and a snack and a drink, if needed. Perfect comfort. The train stops at a station, the doors open, the doors close, and then the doors open again. And I’m thinking — NO! We did that already — we are supposed to move forward now, not open the doors again.” And then the announcement came: “Ladies and gentlemen, due to [insert any lie] all uptown service on the East Side of Manhattan has been suspended indefinitely. If you need to get uptown, cross over to the other side of the platform, take the downtown train to Grand Central Station, take the shuttle to Times Square, and take the 1, 2, or 3 train to 72nd street where a shuttle bus will be waiting to take you to the East Side.”

And I’m thinking, right — I’m going to take seven trains in the wrong direction to get to a shuttle bus that there is no chance in hell exists. I’m staying right where I am unless someone in a uniform with a gun tells me to get out. Sure enough, after a minute or two, the doors closed and we proceeded on our way like the announcement was never made.

How about the “sick passenger” announcements? Ever get one of those? I’m on a #6 train around 23rd Street and we stop dead for a few minutes and then it comes: “Ladies and Gentlemen. Due to a sick passenger at East 149th Street, all service on the East Side of Manhattan has been suspended indefinitely.” What!? East 149th Street is, like, Canada!! Some idiot has a tummy ache five miles away and the greatest city in the world is brought to a complete standstill?? I’m guessing they have to wait for medical help to arrive. They can land a man on the moon within one inch of where they plan to land, but it’s beyond human capacity to coordinate getting help to this guy at some point up the line so the trains can still move?? Or is this one of those football-type injuries where his neck may be broken so any movement is dangerous? Has Lawrence Taylor sacked someone on the #6 train at East 149th Street? Not likely.

The terrorists have been trying to attack the subways for decades and haven’t succeeded. But one guy with the flu paralyzes the entire system. They shouldn’t be checking our bags for explosives – they should be taking our blood pressure. “I’m sorry, sir, you’re at 140 over 90. We can’t let you on that train – you could paralyze the entire city.”

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Enough. There is a train directly behind this one. We will be moving shortly.

Discussing the Mahatma with a four-year old is like taking Gandhi from a baby. I heard that line many years ago from Larry Josephson, radio personality on NPR. I had to look up how to spell Gandhi. It has a wandering H in my mind. I placed it right after the G at first. It can almost go anywhere in the middle. My granddaughter Lianna shares her birthday with Gandhi (and Groucho Marx!). October 2.

Groucho was interviewing a woman contestant on You Bet Your Life who told him she had 17 children. Groucho asked her: “How do you explain that?,” and she said, “Well, Groucho, I really love my husband.” And Groucho said, “I love my cigar, but I take it out of my mouth once in a while.”

Linda and I went to see a Groucho impersonator, Frank Ferrante, in Morristown, and he recounted that tale. To my mind, it is absolutely perfect humor.

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Today’s puzzle started off with ROOMBA, “Autonomous household helper since 2002,” and sort of continued the vacuum cleaner theme with the next clue “I feel your pain!,” the answer to which was THAT SUCKS.

There was a great clue for ALE: “Quaff of gruit and wort, in days of yore.” And if you had too much, you might become SALLOW (“unhealthy looking.”) Been there, for sure.

One New Year’s Eve in the 1970’s, I had too much pizza and beer with Sylvia, our law secretary, and her Vietnam-vet boyfriend Jerry, in an outstanding pizza place in Rochester NY (Bay and Goodman). I excused myself and went to the men’s room. I sat down in a stall and waited patiently to die. Although the pizza there was great, the place itself was pretty dumpy and there was no door to my stall. But I was way past the point of caring about appearances. After too much time passed, Sylvia told Jerry to go check on me — to make sure I was okay. So he came in and was looking at me, trying to determine if I was okay. (I only learned this later.) A gentleman standing by the sink, who didn’t know that Jerry knew me, saw him looking at me and said “That guy is gone.”

I guess I was pretty SALLOW. But I lived.

MOO was nicely clued with “Sound emitted by methane emitters.” (Get it? A cow’s flatulence is comprised of methane, and a cow says MOO.) There goes the old NYT “breakfast test.” (The puzzle is not supposed to bring to mind images that would be unpleasant to a casual reader over breakfast.)

Remember the famous bar scene in Star Wars? It took place on MOS EISLEY, clued as “‘Wretched hive of scum and villainy,’ per Obiwan Kenobi.” Impossible to get that one, except via the crossing words. But for only $399.00 you can get a LEGO Mos Eisley, Star Wars fans! Take a look here: https://www.lego.com/en-us/product/mos-eisley-cantina-75290

And I liked this one: the clue was “Flat . . . or inflate?” and the answer was PAD. (Get it?)

So how did you two meet?

We live in the same building. I have an apartment in front, and she has a flat behind.

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According to The Writer’s Almanac, on this day in 1900, Henry James started a correspondence with Edith Wharton whose work he admired. They became life-long friends. Wharton’s work was more popular than James’s. When he learned that she bought a car with her earnings from one book, he joked that he hoped to be able to afford a wheelbarrow from the sales of his next work. (Alright — not as funny as Groucho, but who is?) He appreciated her friendship, and once wrote to her, “Your letters come into my damp desert here even as the odour of promiscuous spices …might be wafted to some compromised oasis from a caravan of the Arabian nights.”

Yeah.

What he said.

I’ll just let myself out now — no need to get up.

The clue for 15 across today was “Holder of keys, phone and IDs,” and the answer was PURSE. Here’s what our favorite member of Rex’s commentariat (LMS) posted today:

PURSE – holder of keys, phone, IDs, wadded-up Walmart receipts, uncapped ChapStick, four dirty pennies, errant stick of gum, hearing aid batteries, pair of scratched-up clip-on sunglasses, one AAA battery, Mom’s grocery list from two weeks ago, four pieces of that soft-center strawberry hard candy for Jamarion that I keep forgetting to slip him (while teasing him again that he likes old-lady candy), nail glue, floss, worn-out emery board, sandwich toothpick with the Cuban flag. . . damn.

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Sometimes something in a puzzle opens up a little door and if you look inside there’s really neat stuff in there. The clue for 3 down today was “Line from ‘Dick and Jane’ readers,” and the answer was SEE SPOT RUN. This is the first time that answer has appeared in a NYT puzzle. More interesting, though (if you can imagine anything more interesting than that), was the notion that this line is an example of something called “The Mandela Effect.”

The Mandela Effect is a phenomenon in which a large segment of the public for some reason holds on to some idea that is not true. Wikipedia refers to it as a widespread instance of “false memory.” Apparently, for some reason a large segment of the public is/was under the impression that Nelson Mandela died in prison in the 1980’s. Many “created” memories of news reports of his death, etc. Since this was the first instance of this occurring, it’s called The Mandela Effect.

Comments today suggested that SEE SPOT RUN is an example of the Mandela Effect because it is widely believed it appeared repeatedly in those readers, but it never actually did. (One commenter said it did appear but only in an early edition and never again.) BTW, in the early versions, Spot was a cat.

Another Mandela Effect example is people are sure Darth Vader said “Luke, I am your father,” but he never said that. Even James Earl Jones, the voice of Darth Vader, remembers the line that way. But what was really said was “No, I am your father.”

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A discussion of team mascots arose since a Toledo Mud Hen made an appearance at 9 down. The Mudhens are the minor league baseball team in Toledo OH. I’ve been out to see them play twice, in my minor league fandom days. It was great. LMS said she felt bad for the Mudhens because they don’t seem very fierce or intimidating. But then she remembered the UC Santa Cruz Banana Slugs and felt a little better. My son Sam (Hi Sam!) who spent some time in Traverse City MI tells me the team up there changed its name from the Beach Bums to the Pit Spitters, which is quite apt since that region is the cherry-growing center of the country.

We attended a Beach Bums game when visiting Sam 8 or 9 summers ago. The Bums pulled off a triple play, I recall. And it was (granddaughter) Lianna’s first (and only) baseball game. She spent the first part playing in a playground they set up for kids, and the second part sleeping. I made her stop and watch one batter on our way out. The reason we left a few innings early is someone in our group questioned whether the ice cream place we were planning on visiting after the game would still be open. We called them and then panic-raced to the car and sped back to town, barely making it. Whew.

In response to LMS’s note about the Banana Slugs, someone else posted:

“My favorite football team name that must make its opponents positively wet themselves with fear is a high school here in Washington DC – the Cardozo Clerks. The sign always makes me laugh. They may not win much, but they take care of that post-game paperwork like you wouldn’t believe.”

It led me to post:

“I was all set to point out that the Cardozo Clerks must be law clerks, as opposed to secretarial-type clerks, since Benjamin Cardozo was a lawyer and Supreme Court Justice. But the school is named after a different Cardozo: Francis Lewis Cardozo, clergyman, politician, and educator. While their team name is the Clerks, the logo features an owl. The school is now the Cardozo Education Campus and it combines two former high schools: Central HS, and Cardozo Senior HS. J. Edgar Hoover graduated from Central. Marvin Gaye and Maury Wills graduated from Cardozo Senior.”

Now there’s an unlikely trio — Marvin Gaye, Maury Wills, and J. Edgar.

Rest in peace, gentlemen.

It was a long two days, up in Lexington MA for my brother-in-law’s funeral. His daughters spoke beautifully. Tamar introduced herself as the older one. Deborah went next and, very funny, introduced herself as the taller one. You don’t have to look any further than those two to sum up Mitch’s life as full and meaningful. That they loved him so deeply is pretty much the whole ballgame, as far as I’m concerned.

When Mitch turned 70 (22 years ago), my sister Bonnie threw a party for him and asked us each to write a poem. Mine was a limerick. I still remember it.

A young man in science well-versed
Won our Bonnie’s heart from the first.
She married the guy
Then two children came by
All in all, she could have done worse.

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We’ll return to our usual nonsense with the next post. It was a tough, rainy drive home. Time to get some sleep.

In today’s puzzle, 1 across was ADDIS ABABA, clued as “World capital whose name means ‘new flower,’” and it’s an appropriate opening because the puzzle was a garden of delights. Terrific, sometimes funny, associations. And I learned things. IDAHO is slightly larger than all of New England combined. Really? I would have never guessed. And Santa’s POSTAL CODE in Canada is HOH OHO! How neat is that?

Simple words were enriched by clever cluing: MALL (“Place for some outlets”); and PLEA (“It might be enhanced by puppy dog eyes”). LOSERS was nicely clued by “Duo who have to give up their foosball table spot.”

There is a gentleman named Lewis who comments daily on the Rex Parker blog, always finding the positives in a puzzle. Sometimes he writes about why he loves puzzles. Here’s what he posted today:

“I look at the answers in the grid, and there are only a few out of my knowledge, so the huge resistance I encountered was in the cluing. Vague cluing, misdirect cluing, upper-level wordplay cluing. The kind of cluing I want on a Saturday – riddle cluing, where each square filled in from a cross is like a new hint. Riddle cluing, where I have to keep finding new angles of approach, and where the cracking of the riddle is cause for great inner celebration and a deep nod of respect for the clue’s author.”

“Therein for me, lies one of the major joys of crossword. When I was a kid, my sister and I played with words, making silly words that sounded funny, making elementary wordplay jokes. These are some of my happiest memories. But now, as an adult, with an adult brain, I want the same thing at a far deeper level.”

There were cute “stories” in the grid, e.g., PAIRED, IS THAT A YES?, NEARLYWEDS, ALTAR, and IT’S ALL OVER. (“Nearlyweds” was new to me and nice. The clue was “They are about to say ‘I do.’”)

And this drug bust: ACID, TAB, DOSE, ALL-TIME HIGH, and, alas, DEA.

WAGERS at 47A sat right next to LOSERS at 50A. A punny clue was “Knight shift, e.g.” for CHESS MOVE. (Get it? — a play on “night shift.”)

The clue “Intimates” led to the answer HINTS AT, so it was a verb: to intimate. But a commenter confessed that when he first had – – N T – – – , he thought the answer might be PANTIES. How quickly the mind races to the bedroom.

Last, to finish on a classy note, for you art folks (Hi Carol and Bob), the clue “Mobile relatives” yielded STABILES. These are big art installations akin to Calder’s mobiles, except that they are stationary. You can see a neat one here: https://calder.org/works/monumental-sculpture/jerusalem-stabile-ii-1976/

I’ll just slip out quietly now before anyone mentions the Yankees. (Oy.)

As you may have heard, Liz Truss resigned as Prime Minister of England after just 44 days in office. Things had become so precarious for her that the Daily Star tabloid set up a live feed featuring a head of iceberg lettuce next to a portrait of Truss, asking, “Which wet lettuce will last longer?”

When she resigned, the lettuce celebrated its victory with disco lights. “After an unbeleafable campaign I am thrilled to have been crowned victorious in these chard times,” it said on a voice-over (channeling our punster friend Carl). “However we must romaine cautious. This is just the tip of the iceberg.”

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A thousand apologies to AMY POEHLER, whom I completely forgot to mention in my post yesterday despite her prominence in the puzzle at 3 down — with her full name no less, clued uninspiringly as “Comedian with the 2014 humor book ‘Yes Please.’”

Who doesn’t love Amy? Here are some quotes: On shopping, “We need a little less Forever 21 and a little more Suddenly 42.” On relationships, “What I hear when I’m being yelled at is people caring really loudly at me.”

Sorry for the omission Amy. I must also confess I thought of Amy Schumer first, once I had AMY. (Same number of letters with the same ER ending.)

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The New Yorker has wonderful Xword puzzles on weekdays by a great group of constructors. One a week appears in print and they are all available online. They go in opposite day order from the NYT. In the Times, Monday is easy and it builds up to bonecrushingly difficult Saturdays. (Many observers feel the Saturdays of today are a notch easier than those of yesteryear. Cynics opine that it’s an attempt to increase the number of paying subscribers.) The New Yorker goes from highly challenging on Monday, down to beginner-friendly on Thursday. And Friday is a theme (or trick) puzzle.

I mention this because I just finished a terrific Monday New Yorker puzzle by Natan Last. It was a real bear. Even the clue for OREO — one of the most common puzzle answers — was tricky. It was “Golden_______.” It turns out there’s a Golden Oreo — it’s vanilla instead of chocolate.

My favorite clue/answer was: “One being held from behind.” (11 letters) I had no idea, but the crossing answers led me to LITTLE SPOON. Huh? Was this some sort of silverware rule I wasn’t aware of? — you hold the little spoon differently from normal-sized spoons? But how do you hold a spoon “from behind?” Well, get this: It comes from “spooning,” like by a couple. As you may know, spooning is “a form of cuddling where two people lay on their sides with one person’s back against the other’s chest” (or, in my case, stomach). So, back to the puzzle answer — when spooning, the person in front (i.e., the one being “held from behind”), is called the “little spoon.”

Well, once those spooners were in place, the whole grid exploded with sexuality — or not. There was a mixed message sort of deal going on. 28A was HEAT (“2013 NBA champions), but 29A was NEIN (Hamburger’s refusal). 38A was SEX APPEAL (“Pulchritude”), 3D was THE BIG EASY (“Crescent City, by another name”), 35A was LAY EYES ON (“Spot”), 41A was TOPE (“Hit the bottle”), 30A was RIESLINGS (“High acidity white wines”), and 47A was PREGNANTLY (“In a meaningful way”)(Yikes!). So it seemed like we were getting somewhere, no? But then 27A was BETTER NOT (“I think we should avoid that . . .”), 24A was GIRL POWER (“slogan by the punk band Bikini Kill”), and, finally, 46A was I TRIED (“[Shrug]”).

Whew, looked good there for a minute.

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Today’s NYT puzzle was very much enjoyed by the Rex gang and Rex himself. (BTW, if you’re not already clued in, Rex is a reference to the “Rex Parker does the NYT puzzle blog” with the many comments it inspires.)

The clue “It’s shortest at the Equator” turned out to be DAWN. And here’s a nice comment: “I learned the meaning of DAWN. I thought it was the same as ‘sunrise.’ But ‘sunrise’ is a moment and DAWN must be a period of time if it is shortest at the equator. DAWN begins when light first appears on the horizon and ends at sunrise.”

There were a bunch of fresh and lively answers today. HANG ON A SECOND and WAIT RIGHT HERE were stacked almost right on top of each other. For the clue “The other one!,” the answer was NO NOT THAT! For “Buzzes while buzzed,” the answer was DRUNK DIALS.

Did you know there is a color called BOTTLE GREEN? There is. (“Dark hue named after a type of glassware.”) It’s the green of green bottles (duh) (think 7-Up or beer), and it’s the green of those highway signs and street name signs you see when driving. I know what you’re thinking — how does it differ from the green that is the background color on the flag of Bangladesh? Well, it doesn’t — it’s the same f**king green! (It’s also known as Bangladesh green.)

“Uncapped?” yielded BAREHEADED, something I couldn’t be in High School. At the Yeshivah of Flatbush in Brooklyn we had to wear yarmulkes to school. If Rabbi Doctor Lieberman found you without one he’d yell at you that you were nude, as far as he was concerned. Only the boys had to wear them. Still, I doubt he’d be yelling that today.

Did someone say 7-Up? My great Uncle Izzy was a chemist in the early 1900’s but his true passion was inventing. He came up with a formula for a soft drink and poured all of his savings into producing it. He called it 4-Up, and it was a complete bust — he was ruined. But he wasn’t discouraged. He went back to the proverbial drawing board, tinkered with the formula, mortgaged his home, and produced a new beverage which he called 5-Up this time. It failed and he was wiped out again. Undaunted, he revised the formula one more time, borrowed money from everyone he knew, and produced a new beverage which he called 6-Up. This time when it failed it broke his spirit. He died several years later, depressed and destitute, never realizing how close he had come.

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My brother-in-law Mitch passed away this week, and it’s a big loss for my family. He was just shy of 92. He was a very devoted husband of my wonderful sister Bonnie, who passed away over a year ago just shy of 80. Mitch was a physicist with IBM until he retired. He stayed extremely busy in retirement learning languages, writing, and taking and teaching courses at Harvard’s Extension School. On one visit years ago he told me he was putting together a course with a musician friend on the relationship between music and physics. I remembered that when we next visited on Thanksgiving, and I asked him how the course went. He said they had twelve students and he was pleased with how it went. Then he added, “But I must tell you, Avi, I was astounded at the level of ignorance that’s out there.” “How so?,” I asked. “Well, there was a woman there who actually did not know what a logarithm is. Can you imagine?” I was sitting there, stuffing turkey into my face, and had absolutely no idea what a logarithm is. So I said, “I don’t know, Mitch. Isn’t it possible not to know that and still not be a total idiot?” And he said, “Oh, please. It’s like never having heard of Shakespeare.” Well, I’ve heard of Shakespeare. I went one for two.

That became the standard of intelligence in our home. I’d meet one of Caity’s boyfriends, Linda would ask me how he seemed, and I’d say “Let me put it this way – I don’t think he knows what a logarithm is.”

Rest in peace, dear Mitch.