The Wellington Files

  • Loonie Dogs

    The Gnats played up in Toronto last night. There was a very good crowd of over 40,000. It was Loonie Night. A loonie, you may know, is a $1 Canadian coin. What made it Loonie Night is the Blue Jays were selling hotdogs for just a loonie. They called them Loonie Dogs. The scoreboard showed how many loonie dogs were sold by the eighth inning. Wanna guess?

    Over 70,000.

    That ducklike bird on the loonie is, of course, a loon (duh). The coin is an eleven-sided Reuleaux polygon, i.e., the sides are circular arcs. Reuleaux was a German engineer. That lady on it is Lizzie — not our Vermont Lizzie, — the other one, from England.

    The Gnats won 5-4 — a brilliant game that meant nothing to them and everything to the Blue Jays who are in the playoff hunt. The Gnats are playing solely for the love of the game and for each other. For an old jaded baseball fan like me, it’s beautiful to watch. I can’t remember enjoying a baseball season as much as I’ve enjoyed this one.

    The Gnats threw a rookie into centerfield — Jake Young, a good-looking young man who played college ball at U. Florida, started the season in the low minors and steadily worked his way up, arriving in DC just last week. He turned 24 four days ago. An early 5-1 Gnat lead was cut to 5-3, and Toronto had a runner on third in the eighth inning with only one out. The runner was Alejandro Kirk — a good hitter but chunky, and very slow afoot. I wondered why they didn’t pinch run for him since he represented a key run and it was getting late. But they didn’t. Sure enough, the batter hit a fly ball to medium center field. Young catches it and Kirk tags and starts waddling home. Young let loose a gorgeous perfect throw to catcher Ruiz who caught it and slapped the tag on Kirk. It was incredibly close — any other runner would have scored easily. The ump called Kirk out, for the third out, but as the announcers were cutting to commercial you could hear that Toronto was challenging the call — they saw something on the tape that lead them to believe Kirk was safe. We held our breath and waited for the commercials to end. When they did, the call was upheld. The runner was out. Take a deep breath. It was still 5-3. Our closer Kyle Finnegan would nail it down in the ninth. No question.

    Except he gave up two hits on two pitches and walked the next batter. Bases loaded, no outs. Arggggh. But he didn’t look rattled — he looked determined. The next batter, Schneider, had homered and doubled for Toronto, but Finnegan struck him out. Okay. That’s good. Now Guerrero was up — their slugger. He came in second in the MVP voting just two years ago. His dad’s in the Hall of Fame. He swings big but taps a slow roller to third. Vargas charges in. The runner from third was going to score, there was nothing Vargas could do about that, but he fired the ball off balance all the way across the infield to Dom Smith at first. Smith has to shift his feet on the base and extend his reach as far as he can to catch the ball with Guerrero bearing down on him, but he does it all like a dancer and the ump calls Guerrero out. It was just by a hair, but he looked out to me, and anyway the Jays used up their challenge on the call at the plate. The run that scored made it 5-4, but that out was the second out. The advantage swung back to the Gnats. Vargas and Smith had handed the game back to Finnegan. It would take a hit now for Toronto to tie the score. And Finnegan was done giving up hits. The next batter popped out and it was over.

    In the post-game interview manager Davey Martinez was asked how Finnegan was able to work through the inning after getting into so much trouble and he just said “Ice.” He’s made of ice and never feels the situation is beyond his control.

    Treat yourself to a Loonie Dog, Kyle — they’re only a buck tonight.

    When I’m deciding whether to include a poem in the day’s chatter, I read it several times. It’s not a test, but it’s nice when I like it more each time I read it. This poem is from today’s Writer’s Almanac. It’s by David Budbill and is called “Invisible Visitors.”

    All through August and September
                thousands, maybe
    tens of thousands, of feathered
                creatures pass through
    this place and I almost never see
                a single one. The fall
    wood warbler migration goes by here
                every year, all of them,
    myriad species, all looking sort of like
                each other, yellow, brown, gray,
    all muted versions of their summer selves,
                almost indistinguishable
    from each other, at least to me, although
                definitely not to each other,
    all flying by, mostly at night, calling to each
                other as they go to keep
    the flock together, saying: chip, zeet,
                buzz, smack, zip, squeak—
                those
    sounds reassuring that we are
                all here together and
    heading south, all of us just passing
                through, just passing
    through, just passing through, just
                passing through.

    I really should read more stuff by Molly Ivins, or any, tbh. She was born on this date in 1944 in California but was raised in Texas. After studying at Smith and Columbia’s School of Journalism she spent her career as a journalist and humorist skewering right-wing Texas politicians. Low-hanging fruit for sure, but she was very very funny.

    One time, she wrote about the Republican congressman from Dallas: “If his IQ slips any lower we’ll have to water him twice a day.” It reminded me of one of my favorite Barney Frank ripostes. He was at a town hall and a woman asked a question that revealed her to be a moron. Frank said, “Madam, talking to you would be like talking to a table.”

    Ivins died of breast cancer in 2007 when she was only 62. How good was she? She could even be funny about that. “Having breast cancer is massive amounts of no fun. First they mutilate you; then they poison you; then they burn you. I have been on blind dates better than that.”

    Thank you for lending your voice to the madness, Molly. Happy Birthday.

    What do you say, folks — let’s remember her young, pretty, and alive.

    It’s also the birthday of Mary Shelley (1797). Here’s how her novel Frankenstein starts:

     “It was on a dreary night of November that I beheld the accomplishment of my toils. … It was already one in the morning; the rain pattered dismally against the panes, and my candle was nearly burnt out, when, by the glimmer of the half-extinguished light, I saw the dull yellow eye of the creature open; it breathed hard, and a convulsive motion agitated its limbs.”

    The puzzle by Alex Eaton-Salners today was unusual and Rexworld exploded. There have been over 200 comments. Rex started it (well, duh) with: “One of the most unpleasant solving experiences of all time.” Ouch! The majority of comments piled on. I kinda liked it. What happened was every one of the across clues was a “fill in the blank” that told a story about a young couple meeting and falling love. The girl’s name was Ava and she falls for Dana, who could be a boy or a girl. A down clue for HODGES is: “Obergefell v. ___, Supreme Court decision legalizing gay marriage,” so I’m guessing it’s gay girls. Ava plays the Oboe and Dana the tuba.

    All of the across clues/answers work together to tell their cute story of a young romance. The last three are: (68A) Ava and Dana shared their first kiss over cream SODAS. (69A) And of course THEY lived (70A) happily EVER after.

    I don’t know why it was hated so deeply by so many. Here’s a typical comment. It’s by whatsername. (Lewis is someone who is always positive, and Nancy sometimes mentions throwing the puzzle at the wall in disgust.)

    “A puzzle only Lewis could love. While I always try to appreciate the effort to do something different, this inanity stretched the limits of my generosity. I almost pitched it at Nancy’s wall about the halfway point but decided to see it through. I’m not commenting on the content of the “story“ – I will leave that for others to discuss if they so choose – but this was like following one of those maze puzzles on paper place mats that restaurants give kids to keep them occupied. It felt insulting to have one handed to me as an adult.”

    I chimed in with: “C’mon folks — how about a little sympathy — the kid played the tuba. I’m in the thumbs up camp – ah, young romance — there’s nothing like it, in any format.”

    In addition to the concept, Rex hated some of the clues/answers. 24D was “Like buses and bicycles,” and the answer was RIDABLE. Here’s Rex on it: Nothing to say about this one. Oh, except RIDABLE, LOL, what? RIDABLE!? A risible answer. Is that even a word? “Is this bus RIDABLE?” “No.” “Uh … but …” “Sorry, no, UNRIDABLE. You want the 15 Northbound.” [Door closes in would-be rider’s face] [End scene].

    Pabloinnh mentioned yesterday that his wife and he were celebrating their 53rd anniversary so many of us offered congratulations and today he thanked us and said: “We had a low-key day but learned something from our five-year old granddaughter, who informed us that she ‘wears stretchy clothes to bed in case I get wider.’ Bet you never thought of that.”

    Yup. It happens.

    Poster Gary Jugert shared this non-puzzle note with us:  I am back home from travels in Wyoming and Montana. Stunningly beautiful places. You can still drive 90 miles an hour for hours and see absolutely nothing. And did you know that 100% of hotels allowing dogs and offering free breakfast also play Fox News blaring really loud, and according to the shows and the commercials supporting the shows … this came as news to me … liberals are bad. So apparently, if you’re woke, you should stop doing that. I saw a young woman in Thermopolis wearing a t-shirt reading “0% Woke and 100% sick of their shit.” When I was her age I wore t-shirts that said, “Pink Floyd.” These days I wear Carhartt t-shirts because they last longer.

    Yesterday, poster Gill I. mentioned her 2004 Ford Taurus that has 200,000 miles on it which she hopes to take to the grave with her. It prompted me to share this joke:

    This very rich guy in a small town in Arkansas puts in his will that he is to be buried in his white Cadillac convertible. So he dies and the undertaker sets his body up in the Cadillac. Two local kids are watching the burial from a nearby hill. As the Cadillac is lowered into the grave, one turns to the other and says, “Man, that’s livin’”

    I told Phil I’d be using that joke and here’s a shot he came up with. The guy’s incredible. In the photo, it’s a 1973 Pontiac the decedent requested to be buried in.

    Let’s close today with a sweet song by Nanci Griffith. It’s called “One Blade Shy of a Sharp Edge.” Rex shared it as part of his grumbling over “Curtain trims, e.g.,” answer: EDGINGS. Sadly, Nanci died two years ago at the age of 68. She was a Texas girl.

    See you tomorrow! Thanks for popping by.

  • Blood, Sweat, and Chairs

    Linda and I were waiting in a medical office this morning. The nurse called Linda’s name and, before she led her back, said “Your husband can watch your bag.” That’s me, and I said “Sure,” even though it completely didn’t go with my outfit. Anyway, a woman sitting alone a few seats over said to me, “Can you watch mine too when they call me?” (I didn’t.)

    Here’s a poem by Rita Dove. It was her birthday yesterday (71). She’s from Akron and is a crossword puzzle fanatic. This poem is called American Smooth.

    We were dancing—it must have
    been a foxtrot or a waltz,
    something romantic but
    requiring restraint,
    rise and fall, precise
    execution as we moved
    into the next song without
    stopping, two chests heaving
    above a seven-league
    stride—such perfect agony,
    one learns to smile through,
    ecstatic mimicry
    being the sine qua non
    of American Smooth.
    And because I was distracted
    by the effort of
    keeping my frame
    (the leftward lean, head turned
    just enough to gaze out
    past your ear and always
    smiling, smiling),
    I didn’t notice
    how still you’d become until
    we had done it
    (for two measures?
    four?)—achieved flight,
    that swift and serene
    magnificence,
    before the earth
    remembered who we were
    and brought us down.

    We had lunch afterwards at Destination Dogs, a terrific bar/hot dog place in New Brunswick, NJ. I learned of it from Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives. We split two dogs. The first was called “Pig Trouble in Little China” and was linked to SF as its “destination.” Here’s its description: Cantonese sausage, fried shrimp, hoisin sauce, pepper jelly, orange zest, sesame seeds, scallions. It was out of this f*cking world. Our second I designed myself: Bratwurst, queso fresco, cole slaw, cherry pepper relish, scallions, black beans, and horseradish sauce. Also excellent.

    David Wineberg sent this in to the NYT, as a “reimagined song:”

    On the twelfth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me:
    Twelve NFTs
    Eleven forests burning
    Ten migrants trudging
    Nine bots a-tweeting
    Eight cows a-belching
    Seven drones a-spying
    Six trolls a-doxxing
    Five plastic sporks!
    Four Covid tests
    Three face masks
    Two climate skeptics
    and a cartridge for an AR-15

    [I had to look up NFT. It’s a “non-fungible token:”  a unique digital identifier used to certify authenticity and ownership (as of a specific digital asset). And “doxxing” means to publicly reveal personal information about someone, like for revenge. (“Outing” could be used to reveal that a person is gay or a person’s private gender identity.)]

    Here’s a cow a-belching. What the hell is she eating? That can’t be healthy.

    Take me out to the ballgame — and then straight to the emergency room!! Yikes — two women were shot at the White Sox game last Friday. Police determined the shots came from inside the stadium and asked for the game to be halted for safety reasons, but the Chisox said, “Nah, let’s just keep playing.” It was a big mistake: they lost 12-4. Both women are okay — one sustained leg wounds and the other was just grazed and refused medical attention. “I said no!”

    In yesterday’s puzzle there was a clue about people who are season-ticket holders to several different teams and the answer was SPORTS NUTS. It led egsforbreakfast to post:

    I think North Carolina passed a bill that says “No person who SPORTSNUTS at birth shall be allowed to participate in women’s athletics.”

    Charlie Chaplin was in the puzzle today, as a bow-tie wearer, along with COLONEL SANDERS, KRUSTY THE CLOWN, and THE CAT IN THE HAT. It was National Bow Tie Day this week (I’m not kidding). As to Chaplin, one poster noted he was dyslexic and often wore a BLOWER.

    There are so many areas about which I’d have to confess ignorance, and pro wrestling is certainly one of them. So it’s no surprise that I was puzzled when I read yesterday’s obit by Eduardo Medina in the NYT on Hall of Fame wrestler Terry Funk, who died at age 79. It said “He became known as a fierce wrestler who wielded improvised weapons against his opponents: chairs and ladders, barbed wire and bats, trash cans and fire.”

    What? Aren’t there refs at these matches? You can bring stuff like that into the ring — barbed wire and ladders? No one was suspicious in between rounds when he started unspooling barbed wire or lit up a torch? I’m mystified. Medina goes on:

    “Many of his highlight reels show him a bloodied mess, his long wet hair slicked back and his face bleeding from some kind of punch, kick or chair shot.”

    “Chair shot?” Is that a thing like a type of hold?

    Terry’s dad Dory Sr. was a well-known wrestler and promoter in Texas after serving in the South Pacific in WW2 and it was in Texas that Terry’s love of the sport deepened. In 1989 he had one of the most acclaimed matches of his career against Ric Flair. I’ll let Medina describe the action:

    “The 20-minute contest was an ‘I Quit’ match, in which both men would scuffle and fight until one man surrendered. The match, now regarded as a classic, was a showcase for the brutal realism that drew fans to pro wrestling.

    “There were chest slaps from Flair, headlocks by Funk, tosses out of the ring, wrangling along the sidelines, hair yanks and repeated shrieks from both wrestlers: ‘Want to quit?’

    “Finally, when Flair wound Funk into a figure-four leg lock, Funk, his face contorted in pain, said the words that prompted the bell to ring: ‘I quit.’”

    Terry and Ric Flair were life-long friends. See below (Terry’s on the right).

    Funk married his wife Vicky Ann in 1965 and they were married for 53 years until her death in 2019 — she was his longest hold. Cause of death was a “chair shot.” [No it wasn’t.] They had two daughters, Stacy and Brandee, and three grandchildren. Funk is also survived by his brother Nelson, and his step-brother Half-Nelson.

    The obit ends with the following statement of Funk’s:

    “When I grew up, I was fortunate enough to live the wrestler’s life, a life that gave me stories to tell, just like the ones I had heard as a boy. Pirates, millionaires, kings and adventurers have nothing on me! I would trade my life with no one.”

    Rest in peace, Terry.

    David LaFlamme also passed away this month, at 82. He and his wife Linda formed the band It’s a Beautiful Day in 1967, and wrote the song “White Bird,” which you old-timers should remember. Oddly, as a single, it didn’t make the top 100, probably because of its length, but it was a favorite on FM channels. LaFlamme also formed a band called Electric Chamber Orkustra, with Bobby Beausoleil who would later be convicted of murder as a follower of Charles Manson. Creepy enough for you?

    Here are David and Linda in 1970 singing “White Bird.” Recognize the venue, anybody? — It’s Tanglewood.

    White bird
    In a golden cage
    On a winter’s day
    In the rain.

    See you tomorrow! Thanks for stopping by.

  • Owl Chatter Post #300!

    It’s a very quiet celebration this time around at Owl Chatter headquarters. Taylor is off touring outside the country. Our sports heroes are battling their battles, or getting ready to start the new NFL season. And we’re all still in shock over dear Yevgeny’s terrible demise. I checked the freezer downstairs to see what he left us from his visit a few months ago. It’s a big vat of his famous borscht (a beet soup, if you don’t know). He may have known he didn’t have much time, because he left this note and an instructional video.

    “Dear Owl Chatter friends. How honored it was for men and me for invitation to big celebrate. My heart was warm from watching enjoyment of foods and vodkas. Tyler Swift and Owl Wilma have much beauty and grace. All best wishes from your friend Yevgeny P. and entire Wagner Group. Here is secret borscht video – even Putin doesn’t have. F*ck him!”

    Whew. Hard to follow that. But Yev would not have wanted us to grieve, so let’s be joyful, let’s do our best. In addition to Wilma and Welly today, we’re just having our incredible staff photographer Phil and one special surprise guest who insisted on “crashing the party” — his favorite subject: Ana! First, come on in Philly!! — always great to see you! Here, let me help you find a seat. How about a cold Zaydie? We’re having borscht too!

    Now let’s see if you can top your earlier work with Ana, — hard to imagine there’s room for improvement!

    Wow — should have never doubted you, Buddy — Ana, spectacular as always. So good of you to stop by. Please grab a cold Zaydie or a seltzer – the borscht should be ready soon. Dammit! — I don’t think we have crackers. Wilma — do we have any crackers for the borscht? Check the cabinet over the toaster.

    Thanks for sticking with us, everybody.

    Here’s Leonard Cohen to walk us off tonight — You got us singing!

    See you tomorrow!

  • #2313827

    We’re trying not to be too sad about the end of summer here at Owl Chatter. It’s good, in that respect, that my semester starts early, so I can busy myself a little with classwork. We try to look forward to what the Fall will bring. Welly and Wilma will be visiting their son Worthington in Michigan for Thanksgiving, which is otherwise their least favorite holiday, centered as it is on the devouring of birds.

    So let’s make today’s poem from The Writer’s Almanac our final sad note on the passing of summer. It’s by Faith Shearin and is called “The Last Swim of Summer.”

    Our pool is still blue but a few leaves
    have fallen, floating on the surface

    of summer. The other swimmers
    went home last week, tossed

    their faded bathing suits aside,
    so my daughter and I are alone

    in the water which has grown colder
    like a man’s hand at the end of

    a romance. The lifeguard is under
    her umbrella but her bags are packed

    for college. We are swimming against
    change, remembering the endless

    shores of June: the light like lemonade,
    fireflies inside our cupped hands,

    watermelon night. We are swimming
    towards the darkness of what

    is next, walking away from the sounds
    of laughter and splashing, towels

    wrapped around the dampness of our loss.

    A quick follow-up note on yesterday’s chatter about Pattie Boyd, the British model in the Sixties who married George Harrison and then Eric Clapton. I forgot to mention that she was the inspiration for Harrison’s Beatles song “Something.” He took the opening line (Something in the way she moves) from a James Taylor song. Pattie was also the inspiration for Eric Clapton’s massive hit “Layla.” The name comes from a Persian love story.

    Anybody recognize that number up there? It’s You-Know-Who’s booking number in Georgia. I’ll spare you the mug shot.

    We can’t let it go unremarked upon how well the Gnats are doing. They beat the Marlins again last night with a two-out-ninth-inning rally. I was asleep already, but the winning run came in on a passed ball. Weird. The Miami catcher just didn’t catch the pitch.

    Their record now is 61-69, which is two games ahead of the Mets, and identical to that of the Padres, who have a lineup that reads like an all-star team and a bloated payroll. They’re only a game and a half behind the Yankees. Of course all three of those teams I named are having very disappointing seasons. And the Gnats aren’t. The expectations were low and they have been very much exceeded with some very good play.

    Just a little more than a month to go in the regular season. We may be rooting for Atlanta when the playoffs start. Owl Chatter fave Max Fried pitches for them. Since coming off an injury August 4th, he’s pitched well in five starts, going 3-0. We will also be cheering for Baltimore.

    Here’s a hot-off-the-press scoop! One of the most beloved of Rex’s commentariat is “Nancy.” And she just let us know an item of hers was accepted by the NYT and will appear tomorrow in their “Favorite Songs and Prose, Reimagined” feature. Readers are invited to “rework” famous songs or writings. Nancy gave us a sneak preview of hers, below. (My favorite line is the rhyming of Alito with finito.)

    The Ballad of SCOTUS (or Thomas’s Promises)
    (to the tune of “June Is Busting Out All Over”)

    Cash is pouring in all over,
    The court is a great big money tree!
    Lots of billionaires pursue me
    And the gifts they offer to me
    Are expensive and extensive as can be!

    Yachts to take me to Bermuda!
    Planes to whisk me off to France!
    Though it may appear unseemly,
    I will rule for you supremely,
    Every time I have the glimmer of a chance.

    Because it’s June! June! June!
    Rulings come in June! June! June!

    Decades of progress will be smashed,
    Once all your checks are duly cashed!

    Money’s pouring in all over!
    Stare decisis is kaput.
    With the help of Sam Alito
    Roe v. Wade is now finito —
    And I’ll soon be crushing Griswold underfoot!

    Money’s pouring in all over!
    I’ll be at your beck and call!
    Ev’ry fabulous vacation
    Makes me lower your taxation
    To the point at which it won’t exist at all!

    Because it’s June! June! June!
    Rulings come in June! June! June!

    Tossing aside with bad intent
    Every last shred of precedent.

    Perks are pouring in all over!
    Travel’s more splendid than before.
    With your money in my pocket
    I’ll devote my shadow docket
    To the N.R.A., Big Pharma and much more!

    Cash is pouring in all over!
    Ev’ry decision can be bent:
    Though my rulings may be lawless,
    Still my reasoning will be flawless
    When I tell them what our founders really meant!

    Because it’s June! June! June!
    Rulings come in June! June! June! …
    They’ll be coming Soon! Soon! Soon!!!

    Edgar Rice Burroughs was having a tough time of it. He failed the entrance exam for the U.S. Military Academy at West Point and tried his hand (and did badly) at being a cowboy, shopkeeper, gold miner, and railroad cop. But he was reading a lot of pulp magazines and he realized “if people were paid for writing rot such as I read in some of those magazines, I can write stories just as rotten.” He had never written anything, but so what? He hit paydirt when he invented Tarzan,  a white baby orphaned in the African jungle and raised by the she-ape Kala. He settled on the name Tarzan after considering “Zanter” and “Tublat Zan.” I think Tublat Zan might have been good – TZ for short.

    Whatever you want to call him, he was a phenomenal success, generating over 24 novels and more than 40 films. It had a profound impact on the culture and science. Jane Goodall starting reading the Tarzan books when she was 11 and credits them with inspiring her determination to work in Africa. Ray Bradbury memorized passages and recited them to friends. He said, “Burroughs is probably the most influential writer in the history of the world.”

    Get this — in the books, Tarzan is well-spoken and thoughtful. Burroughs did not like the rough, semiliterate film character with his “Me Tarzan, you Jane.” That most famous of lines is never uttered in the books. He made a fortune, of course, and bought 550-acres of ranchland east of LA and called it “Tarzana Ranch.” Today, it is Tarzana, a suburban neighborhood in the San Fernando Valley region of LA.

    We are chattering about him because it was on this date in 1912 that the character of Tarzan “came to life” in All-Story Magazine.

    OK folks, I’m catching the next vine out of here. See you tomorrow for Post #300 — hope you can make it! Our photographer Phil will be on hand with some special shots of a favorite guest.

  • Noa

    Today’s ‘zzle had the unmitigated gall to reference the Ohio State marching band! Hrummmmph, with a capital Hrum! It was at 23D and the clue was “It dots the “i” in the Ohio State marching band’s spelling of “Ohio.” The answer was SOUSAPHONE. I would have clued it with: What does a Sousa use when it has to make a call? An anonymous post on Rex’s blog compounded the sin by posting the video of the OSU band doing what the clue says it does. I couldn’t just let that pass, but I felt I had to remain civil. So I posted the following, with mitigated gall:

    As a rabid Wolverines fan since pouring five years worth of (out-of-state) tuition into UMich (worth every penny), I would have been happy not to see the OSU band, but thanks for stoking the fires as the season is about to begin. BTW, the Michigan fight song, Hail to the Victors, was written by a UMich student, Louis Elbel. According to Wikipedia, Michigan alum and composer Charles D. Kountz said that John Philip Sousa told him that “The Victors” was “one of the nation’s finest military marches and the best original college song” he had ever heard. Go Blue!

    Carola posted the following in response (I’m “Liveprof”):

    Liveprof – Thank you for the note about Sousa and Michigan. As a native Wisconsinite, I’m a loyal Badger fan, but I think the Michigan fight song is terrific. I never go to football games, but the UW marching band practices in a field near where I live and so I hear every rehearsal – my ears always perk up when Michigan is coming to town. Apart from “On, Wisconsin” it’s the only college tune I know.

    And here’s my reply:

    Carola. You’re welcome! I’ve always been a sports fan but had no interest in college sports until my son went to UM. We tried to attend one game a year with him in The Big House back then, and I remember the first time their enormous band marched across the field before the game, playing their song. There’s nothing like it. I remember not liking Jim Harbaugh when he coached in the NFL. He seemed like a lunatic. He seems even more like a lunatic now, coaching Michigan, but he’s our lunatic and I love him. I bought my son a Jim Harbaugh bobblehead doll.

    I was out visiting Madison WI back in the 80’s — loved it. I remember attending a minor league baseball game: The Madison Muskies. They left town in 1993.

    I just got a reminder call from a doc’s office and the person gave her name as Noah but it was a female voice, so I asked her how she spelled it and she said NOA, and that it’s also from the bible — a female Noa. That was new to me. It seems like it should be a popular name in Crossworld but I’ve never seen it.

    Apparently, it’s a popular girl’s name in Israel. There is a story in the Bible about the daughters of Zelophehad. He did not have a son so the daughters (Noah, Tirzah, Mahlah, Hoglah and Milcah) went to Moses to ask God for the legal right to inherit their father’s property. God said OK and they became the first women in the ancient world to have legal rights to property ownership, apart from their fathers or husbands. The deal was they had to marry within their tribe so the property wouldn’t pass outside the tribe and they were okay with that. I guess they felt there were enough jerks in the tribe willing to marry them. The important thing was the mutual fund portfolio.

    In modern Israel the name when used for women dropped the “h” to soften it. So that’s the story on NOA. Of course, we’ve all seen Zelophehad countless times in crossword puzzles — he’s a veritable Mel Ott.

    This story in tomorrow’s Met Diary is by Julia Kell.

    Returning from a trip when I was a poor college student living on the Upper West Side, I decided to take mass transit home from the airport.

    Boarding a bus for the last leg of the trip home, which in those days was a two-hour ordeal, I struggled my way on, dragging my suitcase and trombone.

    A man sitting near the door lost his patience and began to yell at me for holding up the bus. Embarrassment washed over me as I continued to struggle.

    Suddenly, I heard a woman a few seats away yell out in a commanding voice. “You leave her alone!” she bellowed.

    I soon found a seat.

    ********

    I’m not sure why I love that story so much, but I am sure that I do. Do we each have one of those women in our family — a decency cop? We’re lucky if we do. Brava!

    The puzzle was an absolute bear today — halfway through it I thought I’d have to cave in and abandon it. But a few guesses worked and I was able to stagger through it. Of course, when I checked Rex’s blog, he labeled it “Easy.” D’oh!

    Here’s a nice example of how hard, but clever, it was: At 56A the clue was “They’re often worn at long public events,” and the answer was FAKE SMILES. Been there, for sure. And how about 37D: “See star?” The answer was PONTIFF, as in The Pope, as in the Holy See. Ouch, right?

    At 18A the clue was “Takeoff in pole position, perhaps?” and the answer was STRIPTEASE. Good one! Hold on a sec, I need to enter that into the Dirty Old Man Dept., along with its partner at 26D: “On a streak?” — NAKED.

    I didn’t know 30A but I think I should have: The clue was “Model Boyd of London’s ‘Swinging Sixties’ era,” and the answer was PATTIE. Any of you remember Pattie Boyd?

    She was a drop-dead gorgeous model who changed the concept of what is beauty along with Jean Shrimpton back in the 60’s. She was cast as a schoolgirl when she was 20 in the first Beatles movie A Hard Day’s Night. Long story short — she married George Harrison in 1966. They couldn’t have kids and George didn’t want to adopt. Sadly, they split up in 1974, due in part to George’s many infidelities — his sleeping with Ringo’s wife Maureen was the last straw. Oh, no! Say it ain’t so! The divorce was very amicable, with George and Pattie showing much respect for each other.

    Get this! George and Eric Clapton had become best friends and Clapton fell head over heels in love with Pattie. After George and Pattie split, she and Eric married. George and Clapton remained close friends — Harrison called Clapton his “husband-in-law.”

    They tried to have kids but failed too, and Clapton had serious drinking and drug problems and was unfaithful, albeit not with Ringo’s wife, and he and Pattie split up too.

    Happily, Pattie met Rod Weston in 1991, a real estate developer (not a guitarist) and they’ve been together since — getting married in 2015. Weston said of the marriage:  “It’s almost our silver anniversary so we thought we had better get on with it.” Pattie is 79 now. Here she is when she had the world on a string.

    Two of my three classes were good yesterday — the third was at 4pm and it was Friday, and they looked like the living dead. I’ve got bad vibes about that group. Good energy in the first two, though, especially the giant law class with 90 students – yikes! The room was packed but eventually attendance will drop by at least a third. Count on it

    See you tomorrow!

  • Spurious Correlations

    Frank Bruni had two selections in his “For the love of sentences” feature that I liked. The first was about the small private submarine that killed everyone on board because it was not safe at certain depths. It was in Vanity Fair and was by Susan Casey on the mindset of Stockton Rush, the CEO of the company who brushed off the warnings: “In a culture that has adopted the ridiculous mantra ‘move fast and break things,’ that type of arrogance can get a person far. But in the deep ocean, the price of admission is humility — and it’s nonnegotiable. The abyss doesn’t care if you went to Princeton, or that your ancestors signed the Declaration of Independence. If you want to go down into her world, she sets the rules.” 

    The second one was by Matt Bai in WAPO about you-know-whom: “Asking Donald Trump to pledge loyalty to anything really, other than himself, is like asking my dog to write a novel. She might look at you like she understands the concept, but trust me, she doesn’t.”

    Have you heard of Rene Lalique? I haven’t. He was in the clue at 12A today: “Style of René Lalique’s glasswork.” The answer is DECO. Here are two examples:

    He started off in jewelry design but became better known for his work in glass. He was responsible for the walls of lighted glass and elegant colored glass columns which filled the dining room and “grand salon” of the SS Normandie, and the interior fittings, cross, screens, reredos and font of St. Matthew’s Church at Millbrook in Jersey (Lalique’s “Glass Church”). [That’s Jersey in the Channel Islands, not NJ, USA.] Here’s the glass altarpiece:

    The best places to see his glasswork in the U.S. are the Met in NYC, and the Corning Museum of Glass in Corning, NY. His granddaughter, Marie Claude-Lalique was also a glass maker. She died in 2003 in Ft. Myers, FL.

    Bryce Harper of the Phillies started his MLB career young, so even though he’s already accomplished much on the diamond, including winning the NL MVP award in 2021, he’s still only 30. Last Monday, against the Giants, he hit an inside-the-park home run — one of the most exciting plays in baseball. Chatting about it later, Harper placed his hands together, looked upward and said, “Thank goodness for Mr. Montgomery.” One might wonder what the hell he meant, since there was no Montgomery on either team roster.

    Harper is a student of baseball history and has an incredible baseball memory. He was referring to David Montgomery who was the president of the Phils 20 years ago when the outfield walls were being designed (he died in 2019). It was his idea to incorporate an unusual nook or angle here and there so that on occasion something crazy could happen. It worked. There have been 14 inside-the-park HRs in the stadium — still a rarity, but more likely than without Montgomery’s designs. You can see, below, Harper’s shot took a funny angle off the wall.

    At 42A the clue was “Pale in comparison?” and the answer was ASHIER.

    Joe Dipinto posted:

    ASHIER = a worker at a French outdoor café whose job is to empty the ashtrays.

    It brought up a nice memory for me, so I posted:

    Several hundred years ago when I was in college, my statistics prof explained “spurious correlation” by telling us that some study showed that there was a statistical relationship between car thefts and cigar smoking. Of course, that’s ridiculous, so it’s a “spurious” correlation. I was in his office later that day for some reason and I theorized that perhaps the thieves were after the ash trays in the cars. A terrible line, but a nice memory.

    I caught the end of the Nats-Yanks game today and it was about as good as baseball gets. The Nats were up 5-4. The Yanks had the tying run on second with 2 down in the eighth, but DC brought their closer, Finnegan, in early, a Detroit boy, and he blew away the last Yank in the 8th. So now it was up to Washington to try to get some insurance in the 9th — because Judge was due up in the Yankee half and he’s murder. A pesky Nat, Jake Alu, stroked a single to deep right-center and was called safe stretching it into a double ahead of Judge’s throw — but the call was reversed on appeal!! Yer out! Then little things started happening — a pair of infield singles, a hit batsman (ouch!), stuff like that – and that insurance run was cobbled together after all. So it was 6-4 Nats, going to the bottom of the 9th.

    The heart of the Yankee order was up. A sharp single and a strike out brought Judge up as the tying run. Finnegan got him to fly out, whew, but hit after hit after hit made it a one-run game and the bases were bulging with bombers. Bader was up and drove the ball to deep left center. Off the bat it seemed gone to me. Nat centerfielder Alex Call went racing after it and overran it, but stretched out his glove to haul it in, barely. He staggered towards the wall but held on — game over! — and he let out a roar of joy and relief.

    Get the hell out of town fast, boys — you stole that one.

    See you tomorrow! Thanks for popping by! It’s opening day for my fall semester tomorrow, kinahora. I’ll let you know how it goes.

  • A’ja, CJ, and Sliman

    Don’t mess with this woman, at least on the basketball court. She’s A’ja Wilson of the LA Aces of the WNBA, who are currently 29-4. Wilson tied an all-time WNBA high last night with 53 points.

    Wilson is 6′ 4″ and played college ball at South Carolina, winning the national title in 2017 while being named the tournament’s MVP. In 2018, she was named best player in women’s college basketball and was selected first overall in the WNBA draft. In 2020, she was the WNBA MVP.

    A’ja was born in Columbia, SC, in August of ’96, making her 27. Her mom had a court stenographer business, and her dad played pro basketball in Europe for ten years. She was named after the Steely Dan song Aja, which was her dad’s favorite song. She considers herself fortunate, because his second favorite was Hava Nagilah, the popular Jewish wedding song. [No it wasn’t.] Her middle name is Riyadh, where her aunt was deployed in Operation Desert Storm.

    How revered was she at South Carolina? This statue of her was dedicated in January, 2021. She has noted: “My grandmother couldn’t even walk on this campus; she had to walk around it.”

    Right before sitting down to write this nonsense today, I sent the following to Frank Bruni for his “For the love sentences” feature:

    In the 8/28 New Yorker, Anthony Lane says this about “Meg 2: The Trench.”

    Much of it takes place on the ocean floor, in a confounding murk; the one bright patch is the opening scene, which is set sixty-five million years ago, around the time of Henry Kissinger’s tenth birthday.

    (BTW, Hank turned 100 in May.]

    Sliman Bensmaia’s death this month at only age 49 is a terrible loss for mankind. He was doing extraordinary work in neuroscience allowing amputees and quadriplegics to feel sensations and pressure. He was a prof at U. of Chicago. Much of his work was with rhesus monkeys, assessing how their brains respond to stimuli.

    Bensmaia was also a talented pianist who played regular gigs around Chicago. He referred to the mass of inputs to the brain as a “neural symphony.”

    In 2016, Bensmaia and his group outfitted a man named Nathan Copeland with a prosthetic arm that allowed him to feel through its fingertips. Obama came to observe. He called it unbelievable and gave Copeland a fist bump, which broke it [no it didn’t].

    Bensmaia was literally a “Nice guy,” i.e., he was born in Nice, France to parents who are philosophers. He recalled his dad falling down a flight of stairs once, looking up, and saying “That’s life.” He is survived by his wife Kerry Ledoux, his brother Djamel, and his children Cecily and Mateo, all of whom had feelings for him.

    On the diamond, the Gnats put it to the Yanks last gnight, 2-1. It was the gninth straight loss for NY, their longest streak since 1982. If they lose tonight, you’d have to go back to 1913 to find a longer Yankee losing streak. Ouch! Here’s the Gnats fine young shortstop, CJ Abrams, whose 8th inning home run made the difference. Oddly, his full name is Paul Christopher Abrams. The “CJ” comes from his being called Chris Junior since his dad has the same name. Here he is, watching the Yankees sink slowly in the West.

    Oh, no! Owl Chatter just received word that our caterer, Yevgeny Pregozhin, was killed in a plane crash today. Yev, we hardly knew ye!

    Sources tell us he was bringing a load of his incredible pierogies and very popular pigs-in-blankets (all-beef) to a Bar Mitzvah in Detroit. It was so Yev to insist on delivering them in person. We will never forget the spread he so generously provided for Owl Chatter’s 250th-post celebration just a few months ago. (I’m tearing up a little remembering that we still have some casseroles of his in the freezer.)

    His dad and stepdad were Jewish and he leaves a wife and three children. Here he is entertaining at his 4-year-old nephew’s birthday party last May. Phil caught him in a light moment. He was so good with kids. Very playful.

    Rest in peace, Yev.

    Owl Chatter finds it hard to believe we are coming up on our 300th post shortly. Ridiculous. We’ll be keeping the celebration small this time. OC photographer Phil will be here, and we’ve invited one of his favorite subjects as a surprise. Hope she can make it. Still waiting to hear back from some musical invitees too — nothing too loud.

    OK folks — thanks for stopping by. See you tomorrow.

  • English 201: Rear Lit

    One of the last people you might think would be quoted in a serious discussion of climate change is British comedian Rowan Atkinson, “Mr. Bean.” But he studied electrical engineering at Oxford and was cited in today’s chat in the NYT between Gail Collins and Bret Stephens on the environmental case for sticking with gas vs electric cars. At issue is the roughly 900 pounds of nickel, aluminum, cobalt, and other minerals needed per car battery. But let’s put all that aside for the moment and watch this scene. It starts out mildly amusing and then, well, have a look.

    I’m going to cite Rex’s blog a little more than usual today because of what occurred on it. One of my favorite commenters (mathgent) started by posting:

    “On Sunday, @weezie wrote that he/she doesn’t like very fast times being posted on the blog. I’d like to hear what others of us like or dislike on the blog. My favorite comments are those where something in the puzzle prompts an expert in that field to give some inside background. Plus, occasionally something will make me laugh.”

    Here are some of the responses, ending up with me being called out and issuing an apology! Yikes!

    Whatsername wrote: “What I love are the different personalities that shine through. At times I have read posts and knew who wrote it without looking at the name. Also the incredible level of knowledge and the diversity – the wide variety of voices from different walks of life all over the continent and occasionally beyond. I do the crossword to keep my mind from rusting but reading this blog is where I feel it really gets sharpened.”

    Joaquin added:

    Since you asked …

    I particularly like all the new “stuff” that I learn from this blog. For instance, a couple of days ago someone mentioned Raksha Bandhan, the celebration of the love between siblings. This prompted me to send a note to my sibs, giving us all a reminder of our good fortune. I also love reading (and posting) bits of humor, personal stories, and feeling like I have some friends I’ve never met.

    Pabloinnh added: Likes: Learning things, sharing a love of words and language, reading folks who make me laugh, feeling clever when I remember something I thought I’d forgotten, commiserating with others over some horrible clue or usage.

    Then kitshef came up with:

    “Probably my favorite posts are ones where someone links a puzzle entry to something they have read or watched or heard, which often prompts me to read or watch or listen to something new. I also enjoy it when people riff off of the themers to come up with their own examples. Least favorite are spoilers – for the puzzle or for anything else. I was fortunate to get up at 5am to watch the FWWC final the other day, but if I had not, that spoiler would have ruined my day.”

    Yikes! — that was me! On Sunday I posted about Espana and Cupbearer being in the puzzle after the Spain women won the cup not realizing some people might have been trying to avoid the news so they could watch the game later (it was played at 6am, NY time).

    So I posted the following:

    Oh, no! It was I who thoughtlessly mentioned ESPANA’s victory on Sunday, not thinking it could serve as a spoiler for some. A thousand apologies. Thanks for mentioning it @kitshef so I can be more careful.

    Today’s poem from the Poetry Foundation is “Sympathetic Magpies” by James Harris.

    There is an old Chinese legend
    About a weaving girl and a cowherd
    Falling in love and being punished
    By Heaven because she was celestial
    And he was a mere mortal

    Heaven only allowed them to meet
    Once a year
    On the seventh day
    Of the seventh month

    The magpies were so sympathetic
    Each year
    On that day
    They made themselves
    Into a bridge
    Stretching across the Milky Way
    So the lovers could kiss

    Poems are sympathetic magpies
    Bridges between lovers
    Bridges between selves
    Bridges between worlds

    It was selected because today is Qixi, also known as Qiqiao, a Chinese festival of romance dating to the Han dynasty. The customs of the festival celebrate the meeting of the lovers Zhinü and Niulang in Chinese mythology.

    The clue at 11D today was “Illuminated from behind,” for REARLIT. Joe Dipinto said: REAR LIT is a writing genre wherein descriptions of the characters’ butts drives the story line.

    If you want something less silly [I don’t], at 6D the clue was “Tanned and then some,” and the answer was SUNBURNT. There was some carping over whether it should be “sunburned,” and then Anonymous shared this from Keats, Ode to a Nightingale.

    O, for a draught of vintage! that hath been
    Cool’d a long age in the deep-delved earth,
    Tasting of Flora and the country green,
    Dance, and Provençal song, and sunburnt mirth!

    The Gnats will be buzzing around Yankee Stadium tonight — it’s rare that the teams meet. Jedidiah Gray is pitching for DC and Carlos Rodon for the Bombers. Beautiful night for a game.

    The answer to yesterday’s quick quiz: Who said “Pays to buy the best,” and where? It was Ralph Kramden in The Honeymooners. He and Alice were hiring a maid from an agency, and Ralph brought a cigar to smoke, pretending to be a big shot. He took one puff and immediately started coughing his guts out. When he finally stopped, he looked admiringly at the cigar and said “Pays to buy the best.”

    And who are we to quibble?

    See you tomorrow!

  • Enforcer Owls

    Rats! I was hoping for some chatter today from Rex about Lollapuzzoola. He was supposed to be there and I thought I just didn’t see him since it was so big. But it turns out he missed it due to some house-related emergency. He said he heard it was a “rousing success,” which is nice. I checked the results again and it turns out I was bumped down to #100 out of 170, from #97. D’oh! At least I finished ahead of someone named Puzzle McPuzzleface who came it at #163.

    Rex said he was able to enjoy two days in the city with his wife and daughter before he had to rush home. His review of the city was that it smells of weed and garbage but is “highly” worth a visit. If you are wondering what part of his head looks like, here’s a shot he posted.

    For our Dirty Old Man Dept., he also posted a shot of “a bra my wife thought looked good. I just stared at her like ‘who even are you right now?’ (though tbh I kinda agree with her).” He went on to say “Doing even the dumbest stuff with my wife and daughter is just a blast.” Awwwww.

    I managed to complete today’s puzzle using the down clues only, although I accidentally clicked on a couple of acrosses, so I can’t take full credit. I’m going to try to remember to do that on Monday from now on. I liked it. Hey, after my piece on Darryl Strawberry yesterday, the answer at 1D today was STRAW, his nickname. The clue was “Drink sucker upper.” And EDDIE MURPHY was in it, and HEDDA Gabler — there’s an odd couple.

    Kerfuffle was a good clue for HOOHA. And the answer for “Stinky” was MALODOROUS, the charge Rex leveled at the city (I agree, esp as to the weed). The menu included a stein of STOUT (“Dark beer variety”) and LOX (“Fishy bagel topper”), with a CURRANT SCONE for dessert (“Fruity breakfast biscuit”). Yum (burp!).

    As illustrated here, it goes well with onions, capers, lemon, and a schmear. Can we have a couple more capers over here? Waiter!

    Merriam-Webster’s word of the day today is frisson. I had vaguely heard of it, but am happy to learn it means “a brief moment of emotional excitement.” The blah example they used was: He felt a frisson of delight as he stepped through the door to the walled garden.

    The novelist Robert Stone was born on this date in 1937 in Brooklyn. He died at the age of 77 in Key West. He was a finalist for the National Book Award five times and did win it for Dog Soldiers in 1975. He was a finalist for the Pulitzer Prize twice. He was one of Ken Kesey’s “merry pranksters” in the Hippie era, if you want to call it that.

    I haven’t read any of his novels but I’m going to go out on a blimp (is that the expression? — it should be), and infer that he’s pretty good based on the beginning of his first novel A Hall of Mirrors (1967) that today’s Writer’s Almanac shared with us:

    “The day before, Rheinhardt had bought a pint of whiskey in Opelika and saved it all afternoon while the bus coursed down through red clay and pine hills to the Gulf. Then, after sundown, he had opened the bottle and shared it with the boy who sold bibles, the blond gangling country boy in the next seat. Most of the night, as the black cypress shot by outside, Rheinhardt had listened to the boy talk about money — commissions and good territories and profits — the boy had gone on for hours with an awed and innocent greed. Rheinhardt had sat silently, passing the bottle and listening.”

    Stone never completed an academic degree, but taught in writing programs at various universities. He held a lectureship at Johns Hopkins in1993 before moving to Yale, and he taught writing in 2006 at Beloit, which is Lebanon, right? In 2010, he held an endowed chair in the English department at Texas State University which calls itself “the most beautiful university in Texas.” Here’s Sewell Park, four acres of land along a river on campus. I don’t know, fellas, I think I need more convincing on the “most beautiful” claim.

    The soccer world is all abuzz about the kiss “planted” (says the NYT) on the lips of Spanish forward Jennifer Hermoso by the president of Spain’s soccer federation, Luis Rubiales, during the medals ceremony. Here’s a shot of Hermoso, followed by the photo our photographer Phil got of the actual kiss. It does seem a little intense.

    HPIM0658.JPG

    Hermoso said she “didn’t like it,” and it spurred an outcry, including calls for Rubiales to resign. Trump took a break from inventing ludicrous defenses to say Rubiales “should be hung up by his balls.” [No he didn’t.] But Hermoso released a statement seeking to put out the fires. “It was a completely spontaneous mutual [!] gesture due to the immense joy of winning a World Cup,” she posted. “The president and I have a great relationship; his behavior towards all of us has been exemplary, and it was a natural expression of affection and gratitude. There’s no need to over-analyze a gesture of friendship and gratitude; we’ve won a World Cup, and we won’t stray from what’s important.”

    OK, Champ — but let us know if you change your mind and want us to rough him up a little. We can send a few enforcer owls over to “reason” with him.

    One of the best vacations we had when the kids were little was a trip out to the Grand Canyon, Bryce, and Zion National Parks. We flew in and out of Las Vegas. Anyway, because of that trip, I was able to answer the clue at 12D today which was “National park with the notorious Angels Landing hike,” because we did that hike in ZION National Park. Well, not all of us did — we were worried that Sam might be too young for it — there was a sheer drop-off on both sides of a relatively narrow ridge. Hence the “notorious” in the clue. So Sam stayed back just for that part near the end.

    For one or two nights on that trip, our room was a big space on top of a convenience store attached to a gas station. It probably had a “minus three star” rating, but the kids loved it. (“It pays to buy the best!” — Quick quiz — who said that and when?) I remember buying the kids candy in the store — it was convenient! It was like walking down to the living room in your house and there was a whole store there.

    Those are good memories.

    Feeling dizzy at all? Shouldn’t have had that stout. See you tomorrow, unless I slip.

  • Spain 1, England 0

    How prescient was the puzzle today? I just watched the Spain women win the Soccer World Cup, one-love. One-nil? One-zero? Whatever. And the puzzle had ESPANA at 128A and CUP BEARER at 37D! Crossworld, meet real world.

    Spain’s amazing Olga Carmona scored the game’s only goal (no relation to Carmona Burana). Owl Chatter photographer Phil caught up with her in the locker room after the game.

    Okay, now get out of there, buddy — let the girls get dressed. Phil! Now! Who do you think you are, Trump at a beauty pageant?

    Yesterday’s puzzle, at 40D, was a shout out to the Swifties among us. The clue was “Supposed subject of Taylor Swift’s ‘Dear John,’” and the answer was MAYER, for John Mayer an older man she dated and was hurt by when she was 19 and he was 32. It was painful and she was unable to perform the song for years, until reintroducing it on her current tour. What happened was — well, why not let her tell us about it?

    Whew – we just need a moment to collect ourselves. Jeez Louise! I better use one of those end-of-section lines.

    Who could possibly forget Darryl Strawberry? He had the sweetest lefty swing you would ever see — uncoiling his long arms and sending towering home runs over the right-field fence — 335 by the time he was finished, and exactly 1,000 RBI. Here he is with his wife Tracy.

    There was a nice piece on him in the NYT this week. Owl Chatter is taking the occasion to induct him into our own eclectic Hall of Fame. Welcome, Straw! — sure, bring the wife — get in here, Trace.

    Darryl led the Mets to the World Championship in 1986 and he owned New York, lock, stock, and barrel of the bat. And then, before you knew it, he was felled by a cocaine addiction and out of baseball, at first for a while, and then, after stints with the Yankees and Dodgers, forever. Today he and Tracy run a foundation that helps addicts. Tracy is an ordained minister with a doctorate in Theology, and is also a recovering addict.

    Darryl credits God with his recovery, but he doesn’t try to save or convert anyone — he says most of his friends are Jewish. Kinahora! He and Tracy have nine children between them — yikes! — and he spends 200 days a year visiting churches, schools, hospitals, and prisons. He has special feelings for his prison visits and makes extraordinary connections with prisoners, sometimes getting involved personally in parole applications and the like.

    He’s 61 now and I bet he can still park one in the seats. Maybe we’ll see him do just that on September 9th — he’s coming to Old Timer’s Day at Yankee Stadium. Until then, let’s remember the young Darryl — you won’t see a sweeter swing. The late Vin Scully is behind the mic.

    Take a look at Puzzle 4 from the tournament yesterday, below: I want to point out some brilliant features of it. It was the hardest of the five puzzles. First, in each of those separate balloons, the letters HE had to be squeezed into a single square twice. That made them “helium” balloons. E.g., 6 across “Be told about” is HEAR OF, but the letters HE share a square so the answer can fit into five squares.

    Next, in the main grid, some of the clues referred to the answers in the balloons, but you had to notice that there was a musical note in each of them which you had to convert into the higher note. WTF?? As it says on top “We’re scaling up.” So, e.g., the crossing clues lead you to fill in TINA TURNER as the answer for 49A, but only when you change the TI to LA, does it become LANA TURNER, which answers the clue. Wow.

    I had never heard of Kevin G. Der, the constructor, but others at my table did. They gave us 40 minutes to work on it so I was able to fill in all the squares with what I thought were correct answers, but this was the one I got one wrong on — I don’t know which.

    Hey, is that FAYE Dunaway in yesterday’s grid, clued as Bonnie from Bonnie and Clyde? It was 1967 and she was on top of the world. Come on in, girl! She’s 82 now. Did you know she earned a BFA at Boston University? She got a Best Actress Oscar nomination for Bonnie, and again for Chinatown, but it was her work in Network that finally got her the award.

    Her personal life has been a whirlwind. She dated Lenny Bruce for a year, back in 1962, and then had several intense years with Marcello Mastroianni, while he was married. She wanted them to marry, but he couldn’t bear to hurt his wife so they split.  Mastroianni later said he never got over his relationship with Dunaway. “She was the woman I loved the most,” he said. “I’ll always be sorry to have lost her. I was whole with her for the first time in my life.”

    She married Peter Wolf, the lead singer of the J. Geils Band, but it didn’t last, and then she married British photographer Terry O’Neill and they have an adopted son, her only child. She credited O’Neill with being “the one person responsible for helping me grow up to womanhood and a healthy sense of myself.” But they divorced too, after which she hooked up with, among others, author Frederick Forsyth. That’s just part of the list, the more famous part – it might be easier if I listed the men she was not involved with.

    Here’s what it looks like to be on top of the world.

    Make yourself comfortable, Faye — let me get you a cold Zaydie and some Oreos. We are big fans here at Owl Chatter. It’s so good to see you.

    I’m gonna hang with Olga, Taylor, the Strawberries, and Faye for awhile. Hope to see you again tomorrow!