The Wellington Files

  • Mrs. Katz

    A couple of war horses from (roughly) my neck of the woods visited the grid today: Jersey Girl Meryl STREEP, and Gertrude STEIN who was born near Pittsburgh. Stein was clued with “Poet Gertrude,” which was a bit of a surprise. I knew she was a writer and hosted a Paris salon for artists and writers, but I wouldn’t have called her a poet.

    As LMS put it: “I was also happy to learn that Gertrude STEIN wrote poetry. I mean, I know she is considered an author, but I couldn’t tell you one thing she wrote. I always imagine her just as a community organizer, the den mother for all the Lost Generation writers.”

    The theme was cute, based on the expression ARE YOU OKAY? All the long answers contained the letter-pairs RU and OK. E.g, RUnning jOKe and instRUction boOK.

    For “running joke,” I posted the following for the Rex gang. (It got one nice response.) Some of you may be very well aware of it already.

    OK, you wait until the topic of cats comes up, and at the right moment you say: “Do you know who sleeps with cats?” They will either say No, or look at you funny. In either case, you say “Mrs. Katz.” The joke is they thought you were saying “cats” but you were actually asking about some old Jewish guy named Katz. Now this is the important part: You can’t let the fact that it’s not funny at all deter you. Time goes by. Months, maybe years. You are with those people and maybe the topic of cats comes up again, or maybe the moment just feels right, and you say, “Hey, do you know who sleeps with cats?” They may or may not remember, it doesn’t matter. Again you say “Mrs. Katz.” Years go by. Your children grow up and disappoint you. Uncle Louie gets out of jail. You repeat the Mrs. Katz joke from time to time and then, when you feel that the moment is right, you spring — you say “Do you know who sleeps with cats?” By now they know to answer “Mrs. Katz,” but you say — “No! Mrs. Schwartz!! It’s a big scandal!!”

    In honor of that joke, we had a beautiful calico cat years ago whom we named Mrs. Katz, may she rest in peace.

    BTW, I tried to get life insurance for a cat once — they made me take out nine policies!

    I love LMS’s stories about her mom. This one was inspired by 29D: ROSEBUSHES.

    Yesterday I helped Mom up the three steps outside in the “garden” area of our little backyard. She wanted to check the weed situation next to her knockout ROSEBUSES after she had someone lay some of that plastic stuff and then put mulch on top. For the bajillionth time, I vaguely wondered what a knockout rose was, but I didn’t ask. Listen. It was about 93 and muggy as hell, and I’m lacking the gene that affords me any interest whatsoever in plants and gardening. I should have acted more interested, should have offered to walk her over to other areas, but it was just too hot, and I had a headache. Back inside I started feeling guilty and hated myself for my plant indifference. So this morning, I’m going to cut a couple of those roses, and put them in a bud vase on the counter to greet Mom when she gets up. They don’t really look like the long-stemmed roses you get from a suitor, but they’re red and smell faintly rosesome. Is a knockout rose the kind of flower you’d put in a vase? I’m not gonna overthink it; a rose is a rose is a rose, right?

    The clue for 40D was “Yawn inducing,” and the answer was the very odd BORESOME. Rex blew up — hated it! Called it the world’s stupidest word. I’d say he was in the majority too. But a smattering came to its defense. It is in the dictionary, after all, and Lewis felt it was less, well, boring than boring. And some were happy to learn (for them) a new word.

    The clue for 22A was “2016 Denzel Washington/Viola Davis film whose title refers to real and metaphorical barriers.” Did you see it? FENCES. Not an easy watch. Here they are in a rare happy moment:

    I remember an old Chris Rock bit about seeing Denzel dating a white woman. “Oh, no!” he moaned. “Not Denzel!! He’s one of the good ones!! We only got eight!”

    But here’s Denzel with his wife Pauletta, to whom he is very devoted. They have four gorgeous kids.

    Good to see you DW — Loved you in Philadelphia! Don’t be a stranger!

    Good night, everybody. See you tomorrow.

  • Pneumatic Drills

    The clue at 53D today was, boringly, “Health class topic, in brief,” and the answer was SEX ED. But LMS shared a different reading of the word via her veterinarian daughter and took a fun departure from it.

    My daughter (vet) recently used the word SEXED, but as a real verb. She was talking about some puppies or kittens or whatever, and she said that they hadn’t been SEXED yet, meaning they hadn’t checked the genders. I could reimagine using that ED as an abbreviation for education all day. Ya know, classes that people take:

    big headed – for the therapist specializing in narcissism
    broken hearted – for the future cardiologist.
    birdbrained – for the avian neurologist
    large breasted – for the plastic surgeon
    rear-ended – for the budding proctologist

    I tried to come up with some of my own, but it ain’t easy. Parroted — for the ornithologist? Closeted — for the home organizer?

    The puzzle today was a punfest called “The Game is Afoot” and the theme clues each used a type of footwear punnily. E.g., “1970s-era sneakers” was the clue for WATERGATE BURGLARS. (Get it?) “Custom-fitted pumps” was ARTIFICIAL HEARTS. “Fresh pair of loafers” was BEAVIS AND BUTTHEAD. Cute, right?

    It lead to some shoe-y comments:

    Joaquin wrote: This puzzle reminded me of my 11th-grade biology class where we each had to deal with an “open toad.”

    From egs: It’s just as well that the 12th president died in office. Most historians feel that, had he not, the electorate would have decided to “chuck Taylor.”

    Here’s a snazzy “Chuck Taylor Converse Hi-Top All-Star:”

    And from me: I see the FBI’s Footwear Division uncovered another terrorist slipper cell.

    Friday night in Texas, Clevelanders Josh and Bo Naylor, who are brothers, both homered in the same inning (the third). Both homers were two-run jobs, and they gave the Guardians (nee Indians) a 4-0 lead. Cleveland went on to lose 12-4, but who cares?

    Back in April of 2013, brothers B.J. and Justin Upton homered back-to-back for the Braves. The only other brothers to homer back-to-back were Hall of Famers Lloyd and Paul Waner, for the Pirates on Sept. 15, 1938, 75 years earlier. The Naylors’ HRs were in the same inning, but not back-to-back.

    On Sept. 14, 1990, the Ken Griffeys, Senior and Junior, hit back-to-back home runs for Seattle against the Angels — the only time in MLB history a father and son accomplished this. In looking this up, I learned that the Griffeys were both born in the same small town (Donora, PA) in which the great Stan Musial was born, and, get this — Ken Jr. has the same birthday as Musial, November 21st.

    Here’s Stan the Man’s 1961 Topps card:

    Regular Owl-Chatter readers can probably guess how thrilled we are at all the hoopla surrounding the Barbie movie. For one thing, Margot Robbie, who plays the doll, is quite a doll herself. She has charmed OC photographer Phil, who might as well sublet an apartment near her home (in Venice Beach, CA) for all the time he’s spending out there on the assignment. (It’s okay with us, buddy — just check the local anti-stalking laws.) Here’s one he’s sent in, for starters. (Yikes! Could you plotz?)

    The NYT Style Section today has a front page story on the various elements of Barbie that make her Barbie. Vanessa Friedman was assigned Barbie’s measurements, which “are unlike anything ever made in nature.” It’s not surprising given that the original Barbie was “based on a German doll meant to be enjoyed at bachelor parties.”

    Friedman says: “Her pneumatic bosom, teeny waist and endless legs are just the most obvious distortions.” Scaling her up to adult size clocks her in at about 39-18-33. According to a report in Rehabs.com on Barbie’s effect on girls’ body image, the odds of finding someone with that ratio are in the billions. Her neck would be too thin to support her head, and her torso would have room for only half a liver. For you liver freaks, that would be a deal-breaker, no?

    Barbie got a new body in 1998 with a slightly wider waist and smaller chest and hips, and since 2016 fans have had a choice of petite, tall, and curvy Barbies. But Friedman says “impossible Barbie” remains the standard for many.

    Hold on a sec. “Pneumatic bosom?” You ever hear pneumatic used like that before? Me neither. So I checked with our old friends Merriam and Webster and, sure enough, definition #3 is: having a well-proportioned feminine figure, especially having a full bust. Then, to confirm, I checked with the Britannica dictionary and it was even more exciting, I mean informative. It said: US, informal, of a woman : having a body with full, pleasing curves.

    I’ll never be able to look at a street crew in the same way again.

    Here’s curvy Barbie. You can really see the difference.

    Back to the puzzle (sorry, fellas), the answer at 28A was RUE, which is almost always clued with something like “regret.” But today the clue was “Plant also called herb-of-grace.” (Not to be confused with “herb of Alpert.”) Heard of it? Here’s what it looks like:

    According to a comment on Rex’s blog, “rue” is in Hamlet:

    Act IV, Scene 5. Ophelia says to the Queen, “There’s rue for you; and here’s some for me. We may call it herb of grace a Sunday’s. O, you must wear your rue with a difference.”

    Apparently rue (which is quite bitter) was a symbol of repentance. Also a symbol of adultery, hence the gift to the Queen.

    Good night, everybody! See you tomorrow.

  • Sulyhivka

    I couldn’t finish the puzzle today and then I tuned in to Rex’s blog and saw that he rated it “easy.” D’oh! I was done in by two names: Wolfgang PAULI, a Nobel Prize-winning physicist who’s been dead since 1958, and EARL Boykins, the second-shortest-ever NBA player, who stopped playing in 2012. Gimme a break! I demand a recount! Hang Mike Pence!

    Wait, what?

    Pauli was a helluva physicist. Einstein called him his “spiritual heir.” He was famously a perfectionist and was known as the “conscience of physics.” He could be scathing in his dismissal of any theory he found lacking, often labelling it ganz falsch, “utterly wrong.”

    But he reserved his most severe criticism for theories or theses so unclearly presented as to be untestable, and thus not properly belonging within the realm of science, even though posing as such. They were worse than wrong because they could not be proved wrong. Famously, he once said of such a paper: “It is not even wrong!”

    I know exactly what he means. The very first semester I taught, I had a student who had no idea what was going on. He got a three on the first test (out of 100). He came to beg for a passing grade and I remember saying that his answers bore no relation to the questions. I said “You would have to improve a lot just the get the questions wrong.” At the time I had no idea that observation was “Paulian.”

    Here’s a piece on young love by Laila Hartman-Sigall from Met Diary:

    He carried the box while they held each other’s hands, their sweat stuck between warm, tanned palms.

    They walked down the cobblestone street, and she kept her heels out of cracks in the ground. New York heat held her neck. It smelled like new deodorant, smoke, like summertime.

    She put her head near his ear.

    They sat at the bottom of a Brooklyn stoop–the lights were on–and he passed her a slice.

    Their elbows touched.

    She wiped the corner of his lip and put her leg over his.

    He traced constellations between spots of orange oil on her scabby knees.

    “It tastes good,” she said.

    “The cheese?” he asked with a laugh.

    “Yeah.”

    He whispered in her ear.

    “But we’re on the street,” she said.

    “Come on,” he said, and took her hand again.

    How many cruciverbalists (crossword solvers) does it take to change a light bulb? ANS: Eleven — six across and five down. (I just made that up — can you tell?)

    Sulyhivka is a very small town in Ukraine that had a population of just 50 before Russia invaded. It emptied out when it was occupied and then it was destroyed. It was liberated in September but only two men have come back: Victor Kalyberda, 61, a tractor driver, and Anatolii Solovei, 52, a landowner-farmer. They had a cordial relationship before, but didn’t know each other well.

    Victor is staying in a neighbor’s kitchen now (see photo), and Anatolii in a plastic shelter he set up in the ruins of his home. There are no utilities. There is water in the village well, and volunteers drop off food.

    As described in the NYT, at least once a day Victor walks to see Anatolii, past the war’s detritus of armored vehicles blasted open and destroyed farm equipment. The overgrown cemetery where both men’s families are buried is littered with small land mines that can blow a person’s foot in half.

    Recently, Victor helped move some surviving farm equipment for Anatolii, who plans to start cultivating his fields after clearing the explosives himself.

    But often, the two men just sit and drink tea or coffee, saying little.

    “What’s there to talk about?” Anatolii asked.

    Pianist Andre Watts died on Wednesday in his home in Bloomington, IN. He was 77. I saw him perform twice: once a few years ago with the NJ Symphony, and once decades ago in a seat (not on the lawn), at Tanglewood with the BSO. He died as he wanted to die, from a piano falling on his head. [No he didn’t.]

    This beautiful paragraph is from his obit in The Times:

    “At the start of the pandemic in 2020, Mr. Watts, who was diagnosed with Stage 4 prostate cancer in 2016, had been planning a feat: He would play Ravel’s Piano Concerto for the Left Hand in a version that he had reworked for the right hand (his left was recovering from a nerve injury). As he practiced on his twin Yamaha pianos, he got daily inspiration from a one-legged starling that emerged outside his home in Bloomington.”

    Alas, health problems and the pandemic prevented the performance and he mostly stopped playing the piano, though he continued to work with students.

    He is survived by his wife Joan Brand Watts, two step-children, and seven step-grandchildren. Mrs. Watts said of him:

    “Music was how he endured and how he survived. When he actually played, then he was happy. It just really lifted up his soul.”

    He described music as a sacred space in which he felt he could breathe and flourish. “Your relationship with your music is the most important thing that you have, and it is, in the sense of private and sacred, something that you need to protect,” he said before a concert in Baltimore in 2012. “The dross of everyday life is very, very powerful and very strong. So you need to protect your special relationship with your music.”

    I get it, Brother — rest in peace.

    Whenever I get blood taken these days, I ask the phlebotomist if I’ll be able to play the piano afterwards. They always say “Sure,” and I say, “but I couldn’t play it before.” My funniest blood test was by a big Black guy. He took the needle, approached me with it, broke into a big smile, and said “This is my first time!” I was flattered he could tell I would love it, and I did.

    Remember Boris and Natasha from the Bullwinkle show? The puzzle wanted us to remember Natasha’s last name (I didn’t). It was FATALE. (Boris’s was Badenov, which is pretty funny as a play on composer Boris Godunov.)

    And here’s a cute clue/answer: “What might be said by successful bettors … or sesame seeds?” Answer” “We’re on a roll.”

    This was a WOE (what on earth?): “Plant genus named after the Greek goddess of nature.” Answer: ARTEMISIA. Fuhgeddaboutit, right? And from Owl Chatter’s Dirty Old Man Dept., I was hoping “Brand name associated with cups” had something to do with bras. But it was REESES. Boo.

    Oy, that’s more than enough nonsense for one day. Thanks for popping in.

  • Omaha

    Don’t you hate it when you’re assisting with surgery and one of those machines that beeps or whirrs every few seconds suddenly explodes and injures your leg? Kaboom!

    David White was a certified nurse anesthetist on Aug. 4, 2021 at MidState Medical Center in Meriden CT when, he said in a lawsuit filed against Hartford Healthcare, a limb-positioning machine installed by them exploded, mid-surgery.

    The spider limb positioner device is a hydraulic arm, used to manipulate and stabilize a patient’s extremities during surgery. I have one that I used to use on dates — they’re great.

    White claims that when the surgeon pressed on the pedal controlling the device, it “exploded or separated under pressure striking Mr. White’s left shin causing a deep laceration.”

    That explosion also resulted in a variety of other health issues. White contracted necrotizing fasciitis (also affectionately known as “flesh-eating disease”), cellulitis, scarring and disfigurement, multiorgan dysfunction, liver shock, chapped lips, nerve and tendon issues, as well as depression, anxiety and a “fear of loud noises.” [Sh*t! — I have that last one — it’s no fun!] [Alright, I added the chapped lips, but the other stuff is real.]

    The company denies legal responsibility. “Someone else must have f*cked up,” they said.

    Joyce Sutphen wrote this weather-appropriate poem in today’s Writer’s Almanac. It’s called “Carrying Water to the Field.”

    And on those hot afternoons in July,
    when my father was out on the tractor
    cultivating rows of corn, my mother
    would send us out with a Mason jar
    filled with ice and water, a dish towel
    wrapped around it for insulation.

    Like a rocket launched to an orbiting
    planet, we would cut across the fields
    in a trajectory calculated to intercept—
    or, perhaps, even—surprise him
    in his absorption with the row and the
    turning always over earth beneath the blade.

    He would look up and see us, throttle
    down, stop, and step from the tractor
    with the grace of a cowboy dismounting
    his horse, and receive gratefully the jar
    of water, ice cubes now melted into tiny
    shards, drinking it down in a single gulp,
    while we watched, mission accomplished.

    Here’s Joyce, on a day that called for a jacket.

    In the puzzle today, the clue for 6D was “Defense mechanisms?,” and the answer was ORALS. (Think dissertation defense.) It led me to share this story with the Rex gang. (Remember this, Don? I may be off on some of the details.)

    True story. Back in my student days, my friend Don and I ran into our friend Russ, whom we hadn’t seen in a while. I asked Russ “How’s school going?” at the same time Don asked him “How’s the new girlfriend?” Russ beamed and said “I passed my orals,” and Don said “Wow, she sounds tough.”

    The clue at 47D was “What might make one less likely to flip one’s lid?,” and the answer was STYE. (Think eyelid.) Rex and others complained that that was a little “icky.” It led me to comment:

    From the TMI Dept. I hate to break it to you kids, but once you cross that line and are looking down at 70, with prostate and bladder issues, any stye that pops up won’t even make the list. (I love it when I call the doc’s office and the receptionist says: “Urology. Can you hold?”)

    The answer at 52D was ANA. It wasn’t clued for Owl Chatter fave ANA de Armas, but it’s too long since we’ve had a visit from her. A de A — how ya been, girl? Breathtaking, as usual. We missed you at the 250th post bash. Pregozhin catered — say what you will about him being a murderous thug — the man can cook!

    Ana de Armas

    At 42A, the clue was “City where Gerald Ford and Malcolm X were born,” and the answer was OMAHA. I’m glad they didn’t use “Payton Manning’s signal.” He famously used to yell OMAHA OMAHA when signaling a play. In any event, Son Volt shared this Waylon Jennings tune with us:

    Omaha, you’ve been weighin’ heavy on my mind
    Guess I never really left at all
    I’m turnin’ all those roads I walked around the other way
    Coming back to you, Omaha

    Omaha, Nebraska wasn’t good enough for me
    I always thought I was the roamin’ kind
    With a pocket full of dreams and my one shirt on my back
    I left there looking for some things to find
    Rode my thumb to San Francisco, I worked down by the Bay
    Got some schoolin’ paid for by the law
    The hardest thing I learned there was there ain’t no easy way
    To get ahead behind those county walls
    So it’s so long, California, I reckon I’ll be movin’ on
    I’m leavin’ even if I have to crawl
    I’ve got some loose ends laying ’round that I left undone
    Waitin’ there for me in Omaha

    Omaha, you’ve been weighin’ heavy on my mind
    Guess I never really left at all
    I’m turnin’ all those roads I walked around the other way
    Coming back to you, Omaha

    Sticking with music, Woody Guthrie was born on this date back in 1912 in Okemah, Oklahoma. He died young, at only 55, in NYC. He was married and divorced three times and had eight children, sadly, five of whom died way young. The two oldest, Gwendolyn and Gail died at 41 from Huntington’s Disease, which they inherited from Woody. Bill was only 23 when he died in a train accident. Cathy Ann died in a fire around her fourth birthday. Too sad. And Lorina Lynn died as a teenager in a car crash.

    Arlo of course is still with us. He just turned 76 this week. His sibs Jody and Norah are still living too. Norah is President of the Woody Guthrie Foundation. All three are from Woody’s middle marriage to Marjorie Greenblatt Mazia who was a dancer in the Martha Graham Dance Company, and the daughter of Aliza Greenblatt, a well-known American-Yiddish poet. So they are all Jewish. I didn’t know there was such a close Jewish tie to the writer of This Land is My Land.

    Here’s Sara Lee Guthrie, Arlo’s daughter, who is also a musician.

    We’ll continue with more nonsense tomorrow. Thanks for stopping by.

  • Surf’s Up!

    I can usually tell from the first line if a poem is not for me. The simpler it is the better. The Writer’s Almanac shared this one by James Laughlin today, called “Her Sweet Deceit.”

    Love has many joys
    and best are the

    surprises as when
    you changed the col-

    or of your hair to
    make me think you

    were someone else
    not that you fooled

    me with your sweet
    deceit I had only

    to hear you laugh
    to know both girls

    were you & that I
    loved you both alike.

    Have any of you eaten a DURIAN? It was in yesterday’s puzzle: “Spiky fruit with a noxious odor.” Here’s what they look like:

    The smell is so bad that it’s banned in some hotels and on buses and trains in Southeast Asia. But it tastes delicious — a custardy, almond taste. I don’t recall ever seeing or tasting one. You can get durian chips on Amazon for about $12 for a 2.3 oz bag.

    Today’s puzzle hit the grid running with the exquisite ELSA Pataky right up there at 1 across. (“Pataky of the ‘Fast & Furious’ franchise.”)

    Elsa was born in Madrid and will be 47 next Tuesday. Her birth name is Elsa LaFuentes Medianu, but she goes by Pataky to honor her Hungarian paternal grandmother, Rosa Pataky. She has appeared in the “Fast and Furious” films and has been on the cover of Maxim. She’s married to actor Chris Hemsworth and they live in Australia with their three children.

    Don’t mess with her: She won €310,000 in a lawsuit in Spain against a group that published topless photos of her taken with a long lens while she was changing clothes during a photoshoot for Elle magazine. Da Noive!

    Sticking with beautiful women, a special Owl Chatter mazel tov goes out to Rikkie Valerie Kollé, who just won the contest to represent the Netherlands in the 2023 Miss Universe pageant. Rikkie is the first trans woman to win in the Netherlands, and the second overall. (A trans woman represented Spain in 2018, Angela Ponce, and was a finalist.)

    “I’m going to be an open book,” Kollé said, and she has already gone public with her experiences as a child and her treatments as a teenager and her gender-transition surgery. To no surprise, this has subjected her and her family to a great deal of hatred, abuse, and insults.

    “The ideal winner of a Miss Netherlands competition must have an impressive presence and make heads turn when she walks into a room. She also needs a message that can inspire others,” Monica van Ee said, the pageant director. “Beauty comes from the inside.”

    Ms. van Ee said that Kollé had been the strongest contender. “Throughout the whole process, she was the most beautiful woman.” “I was chosen for who I am and my story,” Kollé said, “and not because I’m a trans woman.”

    Nice shot, Phil — a real stunner.

    A female sea otter off the California coast near Santa Cruz, has been taking surf boards away from surfers and showing off her stuff. Seriously — surfing like a pro.

    She is called Otter 841 and is five years old. Last month, Noah Wormhoudt, 16, was catching some waves with a friend off Cowell’s Beach in Santa Cruz when 841 swam up. “I started paddling away trying to avoid it but it kept getting closer and closer. I jumped off my board and then it jumped onto my board,” he recalled.

    The young surfer watched from the water while the otter stayed atop his board as the swell rolled in. “The otter was shredding, caught a couple of nice waves,” Wormhoudt said. (Shredding is a surfing term for riding a wave in a “graceful, skillful, and flashy” manner.)

    The problem is the story is not always as nice. 841 has been unfriendly at times, has damaged some boards, and is viewed as a risk to surfers. She also poses a risk to herself because if she does bite a person, she will have to be put to sleep (she has sharp teeth and very strong jaws). So the California Fish and Wildlife people are trying to capture her and resettle her safely in an aquarium. So far she’s been managing to elude capture. California sea otters are endangered — there are only 3,000 left. A ban on hunting them has been in place since 1911. So we don’t want to lose 841.

    Let’s let these fellas play us off tonight. See you tomorrow!

  • The Mick

    The puzzle’s theme today was the seven days of the week. It’s special for me because it was the last of those things that my Sam mastered when he was little. He knew all the colors and was good with numbers, but he was always asking me things like, “Dad, does Thursday come before Friday?” I told him he’d be calling me up from med school one day to ask “Is Tuesday after Monday?”

    In any event, the seven long theme answers started with SUN, MON, TUE, etc. My favorite was the one for MON. The clue was “Hollywood’s Ricardo or Paolo,” and the answer was MONTALBAN. Who doesn’t remember Ricardo intoning “rich Corinthian leather?” Rex posted it for us:

    I had no idea who Paolo Montalban is. He’s a Filipino actor who starred as the Prince in Disney’s film Cinderella. Handsome enough for you?

    Since the days of the week number 7, it inspired commenter Lewis to share the following:

    “Then I started thinking of the number seven, and went down a rabbit hole on that front. Well, more like a rabbit divot, but still, some satisfying treasure:
    • It’s a lucky number in our culture; unlucky in Vietnam.
    • The number 999,999 can be divided by it.
    • Colors in the rainbow, continents, seas, hills in Rome, dwarfs, and… find of the day!… the number of spots most commonly found on ladybugs!”

    I added the following:

    “As long as we are noodling around with #7, let’s not forget Mickey Mantle, may he rest in peace. I was at the Stadium one day in 1963 (I think); Mantle had been out for months with a broken leg. It was late in the second game of a doubleheader (common back then). For some reason, there was a rustling roar starting up in what remained of the crowd. Then I saw why: Mantle had stepped into the on-deck circle to pinch hit. It was to be his first at-bat in months. The love was palpable in the Bronx. He stepped up to the plate, batting righty, I remember. His home run sailed about eight rows back over the low left-field railing. He was still limping a bit as he rounded the bases. I went to a lot of games when I was a kid, but that may be my fondest memory.

    “After The Mick passed away, the Yankees held a day in his honor. Correct me if I’m wrong and anybody remembers, but the winning lottery number in NY that day (randomly determined) came up all 7’s.”

    I was today years old when I learned that Mantle was originally assigned uniform #6 as an honor. He was expected to excel so he was given the number next in line after Ruth (3), Gehrig (4), and DiMaggio (5). But he got off to a slow start and was sent down to KC for 40 games (the minors then). By the time Mantle returned, Bobby Brown had rejoined the team (from military service) and reclaimed #6. Mantle was given #7 when he was finally recalled. Last point on The Mick — the expression “tape-measure home run” came about as the result of a mammoth Mantle dinger in 1953. One of the announcers that day coined the phrase. It’s still in use 70 years later.

    Pop star NATASHA Bedingfield was in the puzzle at 50A today, and I had no idea who she is. She’s British and 41 years old. She is active in efforts to halt human trafficking.

    If you have trouble opening pill bottles, it may be the fault of James W. Lewis who died last Sunday in Cambridge, MA, at age 76. He was the prime suspect, although never charged, in the Tylenol/cyanide scare that killed seven people in the Chicago area back in 1982, and led to changes in how medications are packaged.

    Lewis was convicted of extortion for a letter he wrote to Johnson & Johnson saying he would stop the killing if they paid him $1 million. He was excoriated for trying to take advantage of the poisonings but there was not enough evidence to charge him with committing them. The FBI continued to eye him suspiciously, however, for the rest of his life and the crime has not been solved.

    And get this —

    In 1978, Lewis was charged with murdering Raymond West, a 72-year-old man from Kansas City, who hired him as an accountant. West’s dismembered and decomposed body was found hanging from a pulley in his attic the same day Lewis tried to cash a forged check on West’s account. The case was dismissed after the judge found that the police did not inform Lewis of his rights at the time of his arrest. D’oh!

    I ask you, Owl Chatter readers — Does this look like the face of a heartless killer?

    Yeah, pretty much, I’d say.

    Opening day for my summer class tomorrow! Can’t wait! See you later — thanks for stopping by.

  • Don’t @ Me

    We’ve seen nouns turn into verbs, e.g., gift. “After Tom gifted his cherished record collection to Sally, she dumped it in the trash.” And sandwich: “Two fat people sandwiched Peggy into the narrow space between them.”

    But did you ever hear of a typographical symbol becoming a verb? That’s what’s happened to @, according to LMS, based on no less of an authority than Merriam-Webster (not to be confused with Miriam Weintraub, who went to high school with me, a lovely girl).

    The following is lifted from LMS’s note on the puzzle today:

    AT has become a full-on verb. See below from Merriam-Webster:

    at transitive verb, informal

    : to respond to, challenge, or disparage the claim or opinion of (someone) —usually used in the phrase don’t @ me.

    It goes without saying that Lucille Ball’s comedic timing is unmatched—don’t @ me, you’ll be wrong. —Matt Brennan

    I’ll cut right to the chase: Men should be able to wear makeup, don’t at me. —Carine Green

    What’s really cool is that we have a typographical symbol that has been promoted to verbship. If you’re thinking about @ing me your disgust, remember I didn’t cause this – just reporting the facts people.

    The puzzle’s theme today was a play on magazine names. E.g., where the clue was “Got any celebrity magazines?” “Alas, we’re …”, the answer was SHORT A FEW PEOPLE. And “Got any news magazines?” “Sorry, we’re …,” STRAPPED FOR TIME.

    Joaquin noted:

    Speaking of magazines …
    Back in the Cold War era, my uncle lived in Washington, D.C. and he had a large collection of old “National Geographic” magazines. Rather than toss them, he ran a newspaper ad offering to give them away. He received an immediate telephone inquiry from the Russian Embassy. This was followed up by a visit from the FBI wanting to know why he was talking with the Russians.

    Remember these eyes? Hard to forget. She was an Afghan refugee on the June, 1985 cover.

    DON HO paid a visit to the puzzle today, clued as the “Tiny Bubbles” crooner. egsforbreakfast said he liked Don’s brother GUNG better. He also noted it’s not “futile” to look for both FETAL and FATAL in the puzzle because they both were there, the former as a “position,” and the latter as a “flaw.” He claims a secondary definition of “fetal” in Merriam-Webster is  “Of, or pertaining to, Greek cheese,” but I’m pretty sure he’s kidding.

    Speaking of kidding:

    From Lianna today: Did you know that the average frog can jump higher than the Eiffel Tower? That is because the Eiffel Tower cannot jump.

    35D garnered some attention. The clue was “One attempting to outsmart a bridge troll, in a classic fairy tale,” and the answer was BILLY GOAT. I must confess I am not familiar with the tale. Gary Jugert is in the same boat and said: “Peevishly admitting I’ve never heard a billy goat and troll story. Did I miss an important parable and that’s why I haven’t gotten far in life?”

    And jberg came back with: “Yes, you are missing out. As kids we had a gray book of folk stories, and that was probably the one we most liked to have read to us. Great dialogue, like ‘Well, come along, I’ve got two spears and I’ll poke your eyeballs out at your ears!’ The clue has it wrong, though — the smaller billy goats are not “attempting” to outwit the troll, they are outwitting it.”

    6A was “Ballpark figures, for short.” Many of us thought it could be ESTS, for estimates. But it turned out to be the baseball stats ERAS. It reminded okanaganer of this exchange between Monica and Tom Selleck from Friends:

    Monica: “So, how many lovers have you had?”
    Tom thinks for a minute…: “Um, four.”
    Monica, gobsmacked: “Four? Have you SEEN yourself?”
    Tom: “Well, how many for you?”
    Monica: “Um…”, then silence.
    Tom: “Just,… ballpark.”
    Monica, immediately: “Oh, WAY less than a ballpark.”

    Have you donated $1 to Doug Burgum yet? I just did. He’s the Guv of North Dakota and is running for Prez. As you may have heard, he’s getting a little desperate to qualify for the first GOP presidential debate. He needs 40,000 individual donors. So he’s offering a $20 gift card to anyone who donates $1. So I did. I was careful not to enter a phone number. All he needed was a mailing address and email address, which already get flooded with crap, so what’s a few more? I’ll let you know when/if it comes.

    You’d think An Elementary Treatise on Electricity, by James Clerk Maxwell would be hard to put down. It was published in1881 and is 208 pages long. (It’s worth around $600 today.) But somebody took too long with it.

    The New Bedford Free Public Library acquired a copy in 1882. It was last checked out on Feb. 14, 1905, probably — the stamp is a little unclear — it could have been 1904. In any event, that’s close to 120 years ago.

    So when New Bedford librarian Olivia Melo got a call from Stewart Plein, a curator of rare books at West Virginia University’s library, on May 30th, she said, “Well, it’s about time!” It was in a bunch of books donated to WVU. It showed the New Bedford library as the owner and was not stamped “withdrawn,” which would have meant “no longer owned.” So he sent it back.

    Happily, the book was in “optimal” shape, with the words legible and the spine sturdy. When it was taken out, New Bedford charged a 1 cent a day late fee, which would result in a $430 fine. At the current 5 cents a day fee, the fine would have been $2,100. But late fees were capped at just $2 decades ago, to encourage book returns.

    Remember this one? Note how much trouble Jerry is having keeping a straight face.

    The actor playing Lt. Bookman is Philip Baker Hall, who passed away a little over a year ago at age 90. He popped around in a lot of roles: over 200. I last saw him as the externally gruff but wonderful neighbor on Modern Family. Back in 1984 he played Richard Nixon in Secret Honor, a film directed by Robert Altman. Roger Ebert said: “Nixon is portrayed by Philip Baker Hall, an actor previously unknown to me, with such savage intensity, such passion, such venom, such scandal, that we cannot turn away. Hall looks a little like the real Nixon; he could be a cousin, and he sounds a little like him. That’s close enough. This is not an impersonation, it’s a performance.” Vincent Canby also praised Hall’s “immense performance,” and called it astonishing and risky. Rest in peace, Bookman.

    Good night everybody — see you tomorrow!

  • Tiny Repairs

    We have had poems in Owl Chatter by Anna Krugovoy Silver before.

    Sadly, she passed away at only age 49 back in 2018. I wish she hadn’t — for selfish reasons. She seems like the female version of our Ted Kooser.

    This poem of hers from today’s Writer’s Almanac is about women, but men can enjoy it too, from the outside — I certainly did. There’s a whole women’s planet we guys will never post a settlement on. If my path through a department store takes me through the cosmetics department I get a whiff of it, literally. If it takes me through women’s underwear, I worry I’m going to be arrested for trespassing, or worse, and I pick up my speed. The poem is called Woman with a Hole in Her Stocking.

    Such a universal female gesture,
    a woman grabbing the seam of her stocking,
    tugging it forward over the exposed toe,
    tucking it under her foot so the tear won’t show.
    There’s something graceful and humble
    about the way she will balance, crane-like,
    on one foot, cradling the other in her hand,
    her back bent, her face tilted downward,
    trying to hide the damage of the splintered
    floorboard, or untrimmed toenail.
    Sometimes, while she’s leaning over,
    a strand will float loose from its ponytail.
    Then she’ll stand, recombing her hair
    with her hands, repair after tiny repair.

    After the Uri Geller write-up yesterday, I continued to think about him. About how lucky he was to find a wife able to put up with his unique lunacy. They have two beautiful children too. I was imagining what a divorce proceeding would have been like.

    “Your Honor — look at this silverware drawer! I haven’t had soup since the Yom Kippur War! My children can’t eat cereal!”

    On this date in 1871, Marcel Proust was born in Auteuil, France. Here’s what a madeleine looks like, a bite of which let flow the protagonist’s memories in his novel. (I urged Phil to help himself to a couple but forgot to say “after the shot.” He’s incorrigible.)

    The actual bite in Proust’s own life upon which the notion was based was not of a madeleine, I just learned. It was a bite of a “rusk,” a hard, crisp, twice-toasted bread. I can see why he zhuzhed it up for the book.

    Happy Birthday, MP!

    The clue at 17A today is “Antagonize a powerful figure,” and the answer is POKE THE BEAR. It reminded me of this joke I posted for the Rex gang. Why shouldn’t you suffer too?

    So an Israeli soldier is captured during wartime. The enemy captain tells him if he can perform three feats of valor they will let him go. He says, sure — what are they? First, you must swim this snake-infested lake across and back in 30 minutes. If you survive, we will bring you to this tent containing a fierce bear that is suffering from an abscessed tooth and hasn’t been fed in days. You must extract the tooth. If you survive that, we will bring you to the tent of Princess Fatima, who has had many lovers but has never been satisfied by a man. Your final feat is to bring pleasure to our princess.

    Let’s get started, the Israeli says, and he dives into the lake. Fighting off the snakes, he makes it across and back in just a few seconds under 30 minutes. They bring him to the bear’s tent. He enters and they seal it off behind him. You hear the most godawful screams and roars for what seems like forever and then it’s eerily quiet. The doorway opens slowly, and the soldier staggers out — alive, but only barely. OK, he says to the captain — now where’s that lady with the bad tooth.

    As I tell my students, it’s important to pay attention to the instructions.

    Another verb/animal expression from the puzzle was at 27A: “Become absurdly outlandish, as a TV show,” with the answer JUMP THE SHARK.

    It comes from Henry Winkler and the TV show Happy Days. Some felt the show was growing a little tired, you know, losing its zip. So it turns out Winkler happened to be a very good water skier — he was an instructor when he was a kid. So as a way to boost interest, they set up a wild episode in which Winkler, in a bathing suit and his iconic leather jacket, actually water skis over a shark. In fact, the show hadn’t been flagging — it continued to be quite successful for several more years. But the expression “to jump the shark” became synonymous with doing something crazy in an attempt to avoid a decline. Winkler said he wasn’t upset at being associated with the phrase, in part because “at the time, I had great legs.” The phrase itself was coined by comic Jon Hein with his UMich roommate Sean Connolly. Go Blue!

    Here’s Winkler, on dry land.

    In the fourth Indiana Jones film, Indiana takes refuge in a lead-lined refrigerator to shield himself from the detonation of an atomic bomb. The blast hurls it far enough away that he survives unharmed. The scene was criticized as being “scientifically implausible.” Ya think? Even the idea of a lead-lined fridge is ridiculous.

    In any event, the expression to “nuke the fridge” became synonymous with film scenes that stretch credulity and, in doing so, diminish respect for the film. It’s in the same ballpark as shark-jumping.

    Here’s Karen Allen, the only woman in the cast.

    Thanks for dropping in — see you tomorrow!

  • Get Bent!

    For those of you who miss the “tuchas watch” that mesmerized Crossworld a while back — and how could you not? — there were two great clues in today’s Puns and Anagrams puzzle in the Times. 24D was “Skin eruptions on her ass,” and the answer was RASHES, which is an anagram of “her ass.” And 46A was “Asses’ return mailers,” which was SASES, an anagram of “asses.” Extending the “theme,” 58A was “Astute test for Oscar awards” (STATUETTES), and 54A was “Sassafras in a basil tin” (SIBILANT).

    The clue at 76A was “‘Old ______’ (country standard)” and the answer was SHEP. According to a comment on Rex’s blog, “Old Shep” was the first song Elvis Presley ever officially sang in public. On October 3, 1945, when he was ten years old, he sang it in a singing contest at the Mississippi-Alabama Fair and Dairy Show in Tupelo. He sang it again for a talent show at Humes High School in Memphis in 1951.

    Kent Mickleborough signed a contract offering to buy 87 metric tons of flax from Chris Achter and texted it to him with the note “please confirm flax contract.” Achter wanted to let Mickleborough know he received the contract so he texted back a thumbs-up emoji. It catapulted them right into court. Mickleborough said the emoji meant Achter accepted the offer and was obligated to sell him the flax. Achter said “Flax you!” — the emoji did not rise to the level of an acceptance. He never expressed an intent to agree to the sale.

    Justice Keene of the Saskatchewan court held that a contract was formed, and since the flax was not delivered, Achter owed Mickleborough $61,000. Keene noted the parties in the past used “looks good,” “ok,” or “yup” as acceptances, and that Mickleborough’s note specifically asked for the contract to be confirmed – not merely its receipt. Prof. Julian Nyarko of Stanford Law School said the question is: “Would a reasonable person interpret the emoji as an acceptance under all of the circumstances?” Yup — Achter was flaxed. Moral of the story — be careful where you stick your thumb.

    Here’s Judge Keene’s pretty wife, Peachy, agreeing with his decision.

    When’s the last time you sang the National Anthem? As a sports fan, I hear it all the time, but I can’t recall the last time I actually sang it. Meg Rapinoe, the brilliant US soccer star who just announced that she is retiring after this year’s World Cup, may never sing it again. Isn’t that right, MR?

    On September 4, 2016, in Chicago, Rapinoe knelt during the national anthem in solidarity with Colin Kaepernick. Remember him? Later that week, the Washington Spirit pulled the rug out, by playing the anthem before the teams took the field. But she continued the protest a week later, during the national team game against Thailand. U.S. Soccer then issued a statement saying: “Representing your country is a privilege and honor for any player or coach associated with U.S. Soccer’s National Teams. As part of the privilege to represent your country,we expect that our players and coaches will stand and honor our flag while the national anthem is played.” Rapinoe stated that “using this blanketed patriotism as a defense against what the protest actually is was pretty cowardly.” She further stated that she would probably never sing the national anthem again.

    Hrrrrumph.

    Last July, Rapinoe received the Presidential Medal of Freedom from Joe Biden. So her relationship with Uncle Sam can’t be too bad.

    If there is a shadow in her life, it’s cast by her older brother Brian, who inspired her to play soccer when she was just three and he was eight. Seven years later he began a struggle with drugs that led him in and out of prison, where he also made connections with white supremacist groups. Oy.

    Meg came out publicly as gay in 2012 and announced her engagement to basketball star Sue Bird in October of 2020. Sue is not related to Larry Bird, although when she was younger she liked to lie and claim she was his niece (I’m not kidding).

    Sue and Meg were the first same-sex couple to appear on the cover of ESPN’s The Body Issue. Yikes! — turn the AC down! Phil – get a blanket or something for them — and quit gawking.

    Who doesn’t remember Uri Geller — from the bent spoons? He got his start 50 years ago on a BBC show when he was just 26. A book has come out timed to the anniversary: “Bend It Like Geller,” by a magician who had been a foe, Ben Harris. What irked the magician community about Geller originally was Geller’s denying that it was a trick — he claimed he had mental powers. The battle between him and the community enriched both sides. How rich? Well, Geller lived outside London for many years, in a mansion next door to George Clooney. He downsized in 2015, moving back to his native Tel Aviv where he lives in a modest one-bedroom apartment.

    The greatest Geller skeptic was James Randi (“The Amazing Randi”). After Geller blew Barbara Walters’ mind by bending her key, Randi showed up and deflated her like a Tom Brady football by showing he could bend the same key just as easily. Randi won a $272,000 MacArthur fellowship as a professional skeptic. He wrote a book called “The Truth About Uri Geller,” that claimed Geller was a dangerous fraud. Geller sued him for defamation repeatedly, including once for claiming Geller was performing tricks from the back of cereal boxes. The “cornflakes case” was dismissed, but the war with Geller was costly for Randi. He died three years ago, having requested that his ashes be tossed into Geller’s eyes. Impressive grudge-holding for someone who isn’t Jewish.

    Overall, however, the magician community made its peace with Geller, viewing him ultimately as a master entertainer. Ben Harris, who wrote the new book, had been an ardent debunker but they are close friends now. Geller is generous with advice to young magicians.

    Geller is 76 and has been married to his wife Hannah for 53 years. Her only complaint is she keeps having to buy new silverware. (“Uri — will you cut it out with the goddamn spoons!!! I’m serious!”) Their (kosher) kitchen has three sets: meat, dairy, and bent. They have two children, neither of whom is bent.

    Geller fought in Israel’s Six-Day War in 1967 as a paratrooper and was wounded in action. He says he’s a distant relative of Sigmund Freud on his mother’s side. He poured $6 million into an old soap factory which he converted into the Uri Geller Museum in Tel Aviv. A sculpture comprised of a 53-foot, 11-ton bent spoon sits in front. He’ll give impromptu performances to visitors, still bending spoons, and offering museum tours. He has a spoon tattooed on his arm (see below). When he brings his hand to his shoulder, it bends.

    That’s enough nonsense for today. See you tomorrow!

  • Grandude

    Nancy Savitt shared this story in Met Diary this week.

    Twenty years ago, my friend Ilene and I were eating at a restaurant across the street from City Center before seeing a show. We vaguely noticed a guy who was around our age eating alone, but we were too busy talking to pay much attention to him and soon left for the theater.

    As we settled into our seats before the show began, the guy from the restaurant showed up. He recognized us, introduced himself and struck up a conversation with us. The conversation continued at intermission, when he asked if he could take us out after the show. Later, he took out his card, wrote his home number on it and gave it to me.

    Back at my apartment, Ilene and I discussed the pros and cons of calling him.

    Did you think he was cute?, she asked

    Oh, yeah!

    But he’s a stranger.

    Yes, it turned out we knew people in common, shared a sense of humor and had many common interests. But, still, was it safe?

    Ilene encouraged me to at least meet him in a public place. “You don’t have to marry him!” she said.

    Ah, but I did.

    The puzzle today started off pretty boldly at 1A with the clue “Milk duds?” Duds is often used for clothing. Still, it was tough to come up with NURSING BRA. The B then helped solve 5D “Go on and on,” which was BLATHER. Did you know there is an organization that helps folks who can’t stop talking and talking and talking? It’s called On and On Anon.

    The clue at 55A was “‘The Big Lebowski’ protagonist, with ‘the’” and the answer, of course, was DUDE. It led Rex to note that he did not like TBL and found that odd because it became a cult favorite, and he loved so many other Coen brother films. I was also disappointed in TBL, I must say, but was intrigued by how many commenters today said they hated it at first, but gave it another try (or two or three), and ended up really loving it. Hmmmm. May have to revisit. My Michigan grandson Mo’s other grandfather is Grandude.

    I do recall enjoying this one scene — the part where John Goodman explains why he can’t bowl (or “roll” as they put it) on Saturday.

    Don’t these beautiful babes on a trip to Cartagena, Colombia, look like they’re having a ball?

    Travel planners are starting to take the concerns of fat people into account. What if spa bathrobes don’t fit? What if rides at amusement parks are not fat-friendly and you only find out after waiting on line for an hour? What if the airline loses your bag and you land at a location where stores do not have clothing big enough for you? On that last issue, the story in the Times notes that Trevor Kezon, a board member of the National Association to Advance Fat Acceptance, said he purposely packs two suitcases on trips because of that possibility.

    Groups such as Fat Girls Traveling, Swipe Fat, and Fat Girls Travel Too! are putting together fat-friendly group tours. One organizer said: The goal is for people “to travel unapologetically.” In addition to arranging for physical accommodations such as restaurants with large comfortable seating, the tours offer the camaraderie of like-bodied travelers. It may not seem like much to some, but imagine the joy behind a statement like — “For the first time in my life, I wore a two piece bathing suit.”

    Is that great, or what? Last point — Car Talk’s swimsuit designer was C. Bigbe Hinds.

    Let’s let Ted Kooser say goodnight for us tonight. Thanks for stopping in. This is from Winter Morning Walks.

    A flock of several hundred small brown birds,
    all of one mind, crazily chases its tail
    across a muddy field and into a grove of trees.
    They are full of joy, like a wheel that breaks loose
    from a truck and bounds down the road
    ahead of the driver, then eventually slows
    and falls behind, wobbling onto a spot
    on the shoulder, rocking around on its rim,
    then settling with a ringing cry.