You know that expression for actors: “Break a leg?” Better not say it to Annie POTTS who visited the puzzle today (no relation to Mrs. Potts from Beauty and the Beast, shown here with son Chip).
She is 71 now. When Annie Potts was 21 she was hit by a drunk driver and, as she put it, broke every bone below her waist but one. She’s been in chronic pain her whole life and has had over 20 surgeries, including a recent ankle replacement. Impressive that she can project so much sweetness, and attained so much success in her career. She has three kids too. Amazingly, none of them has any broken bones. Welcome to Owl Chatter Annie, — don’t be a stranger — Phil!! Get her a seat and some Anacin!!
It’s been a while since we’ve called on our crack OC math department (Hi Judy!). But today’s puzzle invoked Pascal’s triangle at 16A: “Start and end of every row in Pascal’s triangle.” Answer: ONES.
Pascal was French and the triangle was named after him in the West. But it was already known in other regions, e.g., it was Khayyam’s triangle in Iran from the Persian mathematician (and poet) Omar Khayyam. You can see how it’s put together, below. (It keeps going.)
As for its uses or what it means — fuhgeddaboutit. Here’s the first sentence of “explanation” in Wikipedia: Pascal’s triangle is a triangular array of the binomial coefficients arising in probability theory, combinatorics, and algebra. (I fell off the truck at binomial.) You may recall, I’m the moron who doesn’t know what a logarithm is.
Hey, Georgie! — you know who else was in the puzzle today? Get over here Santos — your favorite SNL star, Bowen YANG! He’s at 18D, cleverly clued by “Comic actor Bowen.” Here he is, doing some Santos a while ago. Not bad.
I’m amazed by how insightful some folks are about finding connections in the grid that just sweep by me. Today, right next to each other at 28D and 29D are “Novelist Ken:” KESEY, and “Greek goddess of peace:” IRENE. Here’s what egs noticed:
Gotta point out that Ken KESEY is sitting there snuggled up to IRENE, who provided the title to his best novel:
Sometimes I live in the country Sometimes I live in town Sometimes I have a great notion To jump into the river and drown
Irene goodnight…
Let’s have a listen. Here are The Weavers. Pete Seeger is on the banjo.
In one of the comments, someone added these lyrics:
“Sometimes she sleeps in pajamas, Sometimes she sleeps in a gown, But when they’re both in the laundry, Irene is the talk of the town” 😳😂
It’s Frank Sinatra’s birthday today, born in 1915 in Hoboken, NJ. He started out singing solo in bars and roadhouses. A trumpeter for Benny Goodman offered him $75 a week to join the band but told him he’d have to change his name. Sinatra said, “You want the voice, you take the name.” And so he got to keep it. But he hit it big with Tommy Dorsey’s band, which he joined in 1940. He said he learned his distinctive vocal style from the way Tommy Dorsey played trombone, sliding from note to note and then holding long pauses.
He was married four times, most happily to Barbara Marx, his fourth wife. Her maiden name was Blakely. “Marx” came from her earlier marriage to Zeppo Marx. Frank was married to her for the last 22 years of his life. He died at age 72 in 1998. She lived about 20 more years, never remarried, and died at age 90. They are buried next to each other. She had blue eyes too.
It’s Monday and gloomy. If that isn’t enough for you, this poem in today’s Writer’s Almanac ought to do it. It’s called “Bypass” and is by Susan Kelly-DeWitt.
When they cracked open your chest, parting the flesh at the sternum and sawing
right through your ribs, we’d been married only five weeks. I had not yet kissed
into memory those places they raided to save your life. I could only wait
outside, in the public lobby of private nightmares
while they pried you apart, stopped your heart’s beating, and iced you
down. For seven hours a machine breathed for you, in and out. God,
seeing you naked in ICU minutes after the surgery … your torso swabbed
a hideous antiseptic yellow around a raw black ladder of stitches
and dried blood. Still unconscious, you did the death rattle on the gurney.
“His body is trying to warm itself up,” they explained, to comfort me.
Wow, the ref really got into the middle of it in yesterday’s Bills-Chiefs game. A beautiful play gave KC a touchdown and the lead with little time left, but it was negated by an offsides call. Kedarius Toney was clearly over the line. But Andy Reid and Patrick Mahomes blew up. The call should not have been made, or Toney should have been warned so he could step back, they shrieked. I thought that was ridiculous — how hard would it be for Toney to just stay on his side of the f*cking line? But chatter I heard on the radio today by a couple of old pros agreed with the Chiefs. Yes, Toney blew it, but in most cases that call would not have been made.
The play itself was pretty. Mahomes hit Kelce midfield. Kelce advanced the ball and then lateraled it over to Toney, who scored. Take a look. Kelce, of course, is Taylor Swift’s boyfriend (she was there). Social media is on fire expecting a song ripping Toney (or the refs?). Nah. You’re better than that, TS, right?
It’s Jim Harrison’s birthday today. Jim holds a very special place in Owl Chatter because he’s the poet/writer to whom Ted Kooser sent his daily poems on postcards from Winter Morning Walks. Jim was born in Grayling, MI, in 1937 and passed away in 2016 at age 78. He said: “Death steals everything except our stories,” and “Sometimes the only answer to death is lunch.”
He also said: “I would rather give full vent to all human loves and disappointments, and take a chance on being corny, than die a smartass.”
Happy Birthday Jim!
It’s also the birthday of Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn, born in Russia in 1918. He also died there at age 89. He started out as a gung-ho communist, even bringing a copy of Marx’s Das Kapital along on his honeymoon. (If that didn’t trigger a side-eye from the wife, I don’t know what would.) But getting tossed into a labor camp for 8 years for dissing Stalin in a personal letter left a bad taste.
He came to the U.S. and settled in Vermont for a time after he was exiled from the USSR. He wasn’t the most gracious guest. Speaking at Harvard’s graduation in 1978, he said the U.S. was mired in boorish consumerism, and the American people were suffering from a “decline in courage” and a “lack of manliness.” Well, maybe if he settled in the Bronx or Detroit he’d get a different picture. Just sayin’.
He condemned the 1960s counterculture for forcing a hasty capitulation in Vietnam. In a reference to the Communist governments in Southeast Asia’s use of re-education camps, human rights abuses, and genocide after the fall of Saigon, Solzhenitsyn said: “Members of the U.S. antiwar movement wound up being involved in the betrayal of Far Eastern nations and the suffering imposed on 30 million people. Do those convinced pacifists hear the moans coming from there?” Ouch. Don’t blame me, I flunked my physical.
He also accused the Western media of violating the privacy of celebrities, and of filling up the “immortal souls” of their readers with celebrity gossip and other “vain talk.”
Sheesh. Ease up, fella. Nobody’s perfect. Have some cake. How do you say Happy Birthday in Russian? Here we go: с днем рождения!
Here’s the birthday boy with his buddy Mstislav Rostropovich, followed by his 2-ruble coin.
The theme of today’s puzzle was political puns. They were pretty bad, which is okay for puns. (Rex called it an exercise in “groanolatry.”) So, e.g., at 62A the clue was “The sound engineer was obsessed with the …” and the answer was SPEAKERS OF THE HOUSE. Get it? Another one was at 40A: “The veterinarian specialized in mending …” LAME DUCK BILLS. Rex was pretty much on target labelling it meh.
He closed with a nice photo and note, though. He said: “We got a tree and put lights in our outdoor bushes and everything, for once (we’re usually pretty lazy about such things). Gonna decorate the tree now, I think, if the cats let us. Does this look like the face of someone who will let us?”
There was a very pretty guest in the grid today: Canst thou guess who? It’s Kirsten DUNST. Didst thou know’st she is a Jersey girl? Yup, born in Point Pleasant back in ’82 (so she’s 41). KD married actor Jesse Plemons last year, and they have two kids. I first grew to like JP when he was on Friday Night Lights. During the first season, the joke was that Plemons was the only member of the cast who actually played HS football but he wasn’t on the team in the show (the Panthers). He joined the team during the show’s second season, and told the director he wanted to do his own stunts. On his first play, he was tackled and his chin split open, requiring eleven stitches. D’oh!
They acted together in The Power of the Dog and were both nominated for Oscars in supporting roles. Anyway, never mind all that, here’s Kirsten. Stop by more often girl — where you been?
Ukrainian Olympic skating champ OKSANA Baiul was also in the grid today. She’s 46 now. In ’93 she was the World Figure Skating champ, and in ’94, she won Olympic gold in ladies singles. She moved to the U.S. after the ’94 Olympics, living in CT and VA, before settling in Cliffside Park NJ for 14 years. She married her manager in 2015 and they live in Las Vegas with their 8-year-old daughter Sophia.
In ’97, Baiul was arrested for drunk driving after crashing her car into a tree in Connecticut. Judges awarded her 5.6, 5.5, and 5.8, for her glide into the tree. She entered rehab for her drinking, and in a 2004 interview said she had been sober for six years, and that that was more important than Olympic gold. Amen to that, sister.
Oksana was raised as a Russian Orthodox Christian, but upon learning as an adult that her maternal grandmother was Jewish (making her Jewish under Jewish law), she identified as Jewish herself, and says it feels good to her: natural “like a second skin.” I’m not sure what Jewish skin is, but I hope she has a good dermatologist. If not, she’s skating on thin ice. (I knew I’d get there eventually.)
If you can spare a few, here she is winning the gold when she was just a little girl.
Kudos to Jayden Daniels, LSU quarterback, for winning this year’s Heisman trophy. The team only went 9-3 behind him because its defense was weak. His stats are incredible: 3,812 passing yards and 40 touchdowns against just four interceptions. He added 1,134 yards on the ground and 10 rushing TDs. He had the highest quarterback rating in FBS history. Kudos as well to Blake Corum and J.J. McCarthy, our Wolverine heroes, who finished 9th and 10th in the voting. Go Blue!
Miriam’s “Word of the Day” today is “foolscap,” and I had no idea that it means a piece of writing paper; in the U.S., specifically, a legal-size sheet, 8 x 13 inchies. When it first appeared in the 1500s it referred to an actual fool’s cap: the hat a jester would wear. But it became associated with sheets of paper due to the use of an image of such a cap as the watermark on paper.
We attended a very good holiday concert today by an amateur orchestra with which Lianna’s viola teacher is involved. It’s intergenerational and the youngest member was a teeny-tiny 5-year-old cellist (who has been playing since he was 3), and the oldest looked, well, pretty damn old. They performed “The Conquering Hero Comes,” from Handel’s Judas Maccabaeus oratorio, and the conductor explained that it was the first time (like, in history) that a Jewish character was portrayed heroically in a work. There were 5,000 Jews living in London at the time and all 5,000 came to the performance (on April 1, 1747). Handel recognized a good scam when he saw one, so his next 7 oratorios did the same Jewish thing with biblical themes. All were hits. The next one didn’t, and flopped.
Came home to watch the Jets finish pulverizing the Texans. Has Zach Wilson turned some sort of corner? — he was brilliant. Is there cause for hope?
This piece is from tomorrow’s Met Diary. It’s called “Riding Downtown” and is by Isabel Walcott Draves.
I was headed downtown on the 2 train when a college-age girl sitting nearby began to sob.
I moved over to sit on her right just as a woman sitting on her left began to comfort her.
The girl said she was overwhelmed with anxiety and on the way to her therapist. A man sitting across from her offered her an unopened cold soda, which she accepted.
There we were on the train, four of us together, one of us in crisis. The situation seemed so precarious that I skipped my stop to stay by the young woman’s side. Her distress was palpable.
I, the woman on the left and the man offered her encouraging words in low tones. It seemed to help. She began to breathe normally and calmed down.
We reached Wall Street, the last stop in Manhattan. I didn’t have time to go to Brooklyn and get back to my destination in time.
Preparing to get off the train, I asked the young woman if she was going to be OK. As I did, the woman on her left said she had to get off too. The man sitting across from us said he felt bad because he also needed to get off.
We all asked the young woman if she was going to be OK. She nodded, but sniffled.
The three of us stood, hesitating as the doors opened. Suddenly, a woman swooped in from somewhere down the car and sat down in the seat I was vacating.
“I got her,” the woman said, smiling.
The man is f*cking irreplaceable, but someone’s gotta try. And thus 19 folks have signed up to run on the GOP side for new OC staffer George Santos’s recently vacated House seat. One of them is George Grillo, 49, who refers to himself as the Republican Messiah, and who are we to quibble? Well, the Republican Messiah was convicted on Tuesday on five counts related to the January 6 riot at the Capitol, including a felony obstruction charge. In his defense he claimed he did not know that Congress convened there. I believe it.
Here are some shots of him in the Capitol that he’s using on his campaign posters. He’s the guy circled in red. Please contact us for information on how to contribute to his campaign or to help cover the legal costs of his appeal.
Yesterday was the last day of classes for me for the semester. The big law class (90 students) was the most fun. Regrets – there was one story and one joke I wish I found the chance to tell. But that’s okay. One nice Asian girl handed me a note at the end of class: It was in the shape of a bunny and in it she thanked me for the class — said she enjoyed the stories and lectures. How nice is that? She got a 57 on the midterm, and will likely do worse on the final, but I’ll give her an A, for sure.
One thing I can say about Yoko Ono and Roger Federer is that I didn’t notice anything about their hair-dos. But that’s on me, because both were by the very exclusive NYC hairstylist Tim Rogers, whose life was cut short (sorry) last month, at the age of only 51. The cause of death was not revealed. In addition to his upper upper clients, he was a presence at NY Fashion Week, doing hair for runway shows for designers, among them Marc Jacobs and Anna Sui, the latter of whom is a frequent visitor to Crossworld.
Actress Anna Kendrick was a client. She was not entirely pleased when our Phil broke in on them for this shot. Looking good, though. There’s no stopping the man, Anna — be thankful he didn’t wake you up.
Rogers also dished out beauty advice in a column in Redbook. This included counseling readers to avoid using too much shampoo, which “can strip hair of its protective oils, making it dry and dull.”
“Use only a nickel-size drop of shampoo on short-to-medium lengths, and a quarter-size dollop for long hair,” he added. “Emulsify it with water in your palm first, then rub it just on your scalp, where hair is most oily.”
Who knew? On the other hand, maybe that was what caused his death: shampoo deficiency.
Many of his clients were men, including Jack Schlossberg, JFK’s only grandson. He regularly rushed off to the Hamptons by helicopter to provide cuts to hedge fund managers and investment bankers. His fee could run as high as $800 per session.
According to the obit by Alex Williams in The Times, Rogers “treated everyone like a star, whether they were a celebrity, a model, a C.E.O. or a regular person. He believed everyone could be stylish and beautiful.”
Rogers is survived by his parents and brother, all three of whom look marvelous.
Rest in peace, Tim.
Today’s puzzle is by two old pros: Doug Peterson and Christina Iverson and it was chock full of wonderful material. Rex felt constrained to disclose that Doug is an old friend of his, before starting his writeup. It led egs to start off his comment by stating: “Full disclosure: Doug and Christina are my parents.”
Some favorite clues/answers were:
34A “Defiant declaration popularized by the drag queen Bianca Del Rio.” Answer: NOT TODAY SATAN.
58A: “‘Let’s have our cake and eat it, too!’” Answer: WHY NOT BOTH?
17A: “100% correct!” Answer: CAN CONFIRM.
13D: “Causes to grow, humorously,” is EMBIGGENS.
Do you know about “embiggens?” It was used in The Simpsons in 1996. The founder of Springfield uses it in some old film footage and when one teacher asks another about it, she says: It’s a perfectly cromulent word. “Cromulent” was a made-up word that has since entered the language. I thought embiggens was also made up, but it goes as far back as the 1880s. Its use as an awkward word in The Simpsons has given it new life, e.g., in today’s puzzle. Miriam Webster includes both in her dictionary.
44D was “Idaho senator Mike,” and the answer was CRAPO. Never heard of the man. And yet he’s been in the Senate since 1999. It’s pronounced Kray-po, not Crap-po. He’s 72, married to his wife Susan for almost 50 years, and they have five Crapo children.
He opposed Obama’s health reform legislation. He voted against a bill that would have expanded background checks for all gun buyers. He urged Trump to withdraw the US from the Paris Climate Agreement. He supported depriving Obama of a Supreme Court nominee with ten months left in office, but went along with rushing Trump’s nominee through two months before the election. Bottom line: An utterly unprincipled hack. Sullies the puzzle. Phil refused to waste time getting a shot of him.
Yuck — we can’t end on that. Kooz — help us out!
From Winter Morning Walks.
A cold wind out of the west all night. Where our row of Norwegian pines lines the road, there were lots of joined pairs of needles this morning, blown over the grass and onto the shoulder, every pair an elongated V, coated with frost, and each pointing east southeast, where, sure enough, the sun was rising.
Word of Taylor’s selection as Time Mag’s Person of the Year yesterday even reached me under my rock, thanks to an excited email from OC reader River Road Norrie (Hi Nor!). There are three versions of the cover on sale, none of which does her justice, in our view. Tay’s cat Benjamin Button shares the spotlight with The “Purr”son of the Year on this one. (She has two other cats: Meredith Grey, named after the character from Grey’s Anatomy; and Olivia Benson, also named after a TV character (from Law & Order: SVU.)
The obvious question is, how does boyfriend Travis Kelce feel about cats? Well, we know he’s a dog lover — he has two. And we know his first pets, when he and his bro were little boys, were cats. So that might lead us to conclude he’s pro-cat too. But an old tweet surfaced in which he said cats “creep him out.” Hmmmm. Owl Chatter’s view? Take a look at her again. The man is all in on cats, believe me.
Owl Chatter got through to Swift the moment her selection became known. She was very emotional. She has still not gotten over losing “her Yev” (Yevgeni Pregozhin, the Russian mercenary and caterer with whom she grew very close last year). “I know, in time, I will be okay,” she told OC. “Yev kept telling me to be strong ‘like Russian bear.’ But it’s very hard. It hurts that I can’t share this with him.”
Swift keeps this family shot with her whenever she travels and stays in close touch with his widow Lyubov, whose strength is an inspiration to her.
In addition to their beautiful daughter Polina, above, left, the Pregozhins had a son, Pavel. Taylor tells us the t-shirt Yev is wearing, above, was a Chanukah gift from her last year. (Yev was Jewish.) He made Phil wait for the shot so he could throw it on.
Owl Chatter couldn’t be more pleased with the fast start our new staff member, former Congressman George Santos, has gotten off to. He’s a delight to have around the office. Very sharp dresser — unlike Phil and the rest of us. (Sorry Philly, just calling ’em as we see ’em. Maybe you can take some tips from the young man.)
George has been busy on the website Cameo, selling cameo videos of himself to customers. He started charging $75 a pop, but it skyrocketed and his fee is up to $400 at last report. Senator Fetterman (D-PA) ordered one (for $350) to send to ethically-challenged Sen. Bob Menendez (D-NJ). In it, Santos is telling Menendez to stay strong and not let the haters get him down. Fetterman took some sh*t for spending money on Santos, but waved it off. “Get over it,” he said. Meanwhile, the website says Santos has already earned more from the site than his full-year’s salary in Congress ($174,000).
Needless to say, having GS on the staff is not hurting our coffers either. The minifridge is bulging with diet soda — and not the cheap store brand either! (Burp!) Thanks Georgie!
Here he is, outside our offices on his first day.
“There has to be another way.”
Yikes! I don’t know what to make of this post from late yesterday regarding yesterday’s puzzle with the double-H grid and all the double-H theme answers. It’s by ghostoflectricity:
“I haven’t done today’s crossword and may not do it, for the first time in well over 40 years. HH? Really? The code term, also rendered as “88,” for antisemitism, white supremacism, and neo-Nazism (it is generally taken to be an abbreviation for “Heil Hitler”). Once again, the NYT, notoriously slow to call out antisemitism and the murder done in its name (see its thoroughly dishonorable coverage of the Holocaust as it was actually unfolding back in the ’30s and ’40s, deliberately minimizing what was happening), through its clueless and despicable puzzles editor Will Shortz, publishes a puzzle that is a PAEAN to a movement already on the rise for years. What’s the matter, NYT, not enough antisemitism in the nation for you already???”
The following is from the ADL (Anti-Defamation League):
“88 is a white supremacist numerical code for “Heil Hitler.” H is the eighth letter of the alphabet, so 88 = HH = Heil Hitler. One of the most common white supremacist symbols, 88 is used throughout the entire white supremacist movement, not just neo-Nazis. One can find it as a tattoo or graphic symbol; as part of the name of a group, publication or website; or as part of a screenname or e-mail address. It is even sometimes used as a greeting or sign-off (particularly in messages on social networking websites).”
But then the ADL goes on to say:
“It should be noted that 88 can be found in non-extremist contexts. The number is used by ham radio operators to mean ‘hugs’ or ‘hugs and kisses.’ Also, a number of NASCAR drivers, including several very well-known ones, have used the number 88, resulting in various automobile stickers and other forms of merchandise sporting that number.”
Wikipedia also states: “Neo-Nazis use the number 88 as an abbreviation for the Nazi salute Heil Hitler. The letter H is eighth in the alphabet, whereby 88 becomes HH.”
And get this — “The number is banned on Austrian license plates due to its association with ‘Heil Hitler [and] where H comes in the alphabet.’ In June 2023, the Italian Football Federation (FIGC) and the Italian government announced that the number 88 would be banned from use in Italian association football, as part of a joint initiative to combat antisemitism. This followed an incident in March of that year in which a Lazio supporter wore a club shirt bearing the name ‘Hitlerson’ and the number 88, which led to the supporter receiving a lifetime ban from attending Lazio matches.”
But there doesn’t seem to be any follow-up from the commentariat today, or any mention in the media that I could find. Seems like the issue is not being picked up. I googled “hate symbol NYT puzzle” and nothing came up for yesterday’s XW.
NYC papers have started crowing “It’s a JUAN-derful life,” ever since the trade went down bringing ex-Gnat slugger Juan Soto to the Bronx. Soto was a central figure on the DC squad that won the 2019 World Series and is widely considered one of the best hitters in the game. He’s also a sweetheart — hard not to love. I recall a post-game interview after he stroked a game-winning hit on a 3-0 count. “Was there any thought of taking that 3-0 pitch?” Soto was asked. “Hell No!,” he exclaimed.
For all of his accomplishments, he’s still only 25. In the 2019 Championship drive with the Gnats, he won the Babe Ruth Award for the best performance in the post-season. In 2020, he won the NL batting title with a gaudy .351 average. He won the Silver Slugger Award four times (best offensive player at his position), and is a three-time All-Star.
Juan is Dominican and has never been married. He has an older sister and a younger brother, Elian, who is 17 and plays 3B/OF in the Gnats minor league system. His dad, Juan, Sr., is a salesman and played ball for a local men’s team. He pushed Juan to focus on baseball. Good move.
My Yankee fanhood has waned in recent years. But I’m back now. Play ball!
Wow, Bridget Ziegler is hot!! But let’s all stay calm and get the story out.
Well, first of all Bridget is your basic right-wing monster eager to sacrifice innocent children’s lives for cheap political gain via the anti-gay, anti-trans agenda. A member of the Sarasota County (FL) school board, she is a prominent supporter of the “Don’t Say Gay” law. How prominent? Sh*t — she stood behind DeSantis when he signed it. She co-founded the right-wing Monsters for Liberty — sorry, I mean Moms for Liberty (but is no longer an officer), and often posts against trans rights. In one post she wore a t-shirt that said: “Real Women Aren’t Men.” As clever and nuanced as that is, it hasn’t caught on as a rallying cry.
But now it emerges she has admitted to having sex with a woman. Wait — isn’t that gay sex? Hmmmmm. And that’s nothing compared to what hubby Christian is being charged with — yikes! Rape! And he’s the Chairman of the Florida GOP. Let’s go back a bit — it’s a bit of a tale.
So, Bridget confirmed to the cops that she and her husband Christian had 3-way sex with a woman over a year ago. A repeat performance was scheduled for October 2nd, but Bridget couldn’t make it. Apparently, Bridget was the main draw for the woman (can you blame her?), so when she learned it would just be Christian and her, she bailed. Christian went anyway (uninvited) and raped her. He says it was consensual. He also says he filmed the encounter, which certainly got everyone’s hopes up, but the video has not been found. Rats!
Everyone in the Florida GOP, from DeSantis on down, is calling for Christian to resign, but he’s refusing. (Gotta love it!) Someone should pay for our man George to send a Cameo video urging him to stay strong. And Bridget is being urged to quit the school board. Hang in there, girl!
Here’s how local news covered it:
Tough it out, Zieglers! — we need more like you in public service.
The theme of the puzzle yesterday was “OUT OF” SORTS, meaning different two-word combinations where both words go with the words “out of.” For example, FASHION LINE. “Out of fashion,” and “out of line” both work. Or PRINT ORDER. “Out of print,” and “out of order” both work. Remember “out of order” in Pacino’s great scene?
Out of order!? I’ll show you out of order. You don’t know what out of order is, Mr. Trask. I’d show you, but I’m too old. I’m too tired. I’m too fucking blind. If I were the man I was five years ago, I’d take a flame-thrower to this place! (Slams cane on table.)
Out of order? — who the hell do you think you’re talking to? I’ve been around, you know? There was a time I could see — and I have seen. Boys like these — younger than these — with their arms torn out, their legs ripped off. But there is nothing like the sight of an amputated spirit. There is no prosthetic for that.
I identified the quote as “Pacino, Scent of a Woman.” And egs posted this response (my posting name for Rex’s blog is Liveprof):
“Liveprof. I didn’t recognize that you were printing a quote until I got to the end. I was reading and shaking my head and thinking, ‘Man, Liveprof is showing us a new side of him/her/theirself today. That really came OUTOF the blue.’”
Another theme answer was POCKET DOORS. (Those are those doors that roll into the wall when you slide them open.) So you get “out of pocket” and “out of doors.” One commenter asked “What’s “out of doors?” One reply said: “Outside.” Another explained that it’s where your mom used to send you to play before you had your devices. I wrote: “It’s when you don’t have any doors left.”
10D was a little shaky, IMO. The clue was “Like high-strung horses,” and the answer was SNORTY. I love the word; have been feeling a bit snorty lately myself. You?
Great word at 46A: FRECKLE (“skin spot”). Not often in puzzles.
If you google freckles you get a lot of redheads, some of whom have way too many. They don’t seem to be doing this young lady too much harm, IMO. I’ll spare you the others.
Today’s puzzle was all about the letter H. Here’s the grid:
And the long answers are all H pairs, e.g., heavy hand, high horse, hot heat, etc. Hick Hop is a musical genre that was new to me: a cross between country and rap. (It doesn’t fill a need for me, but that’s me.)
One that wasn’t used was “hobbyhorse.” I was never sure what it means, so I asked our old friend Miriam Webster. It means a topic that one keeps going back to. “I foolishly mentioned the national debt, so, of course, Frank got on his hobbyhorse.” In olden times it had different meanings, including a toy horse head on a stick (for kids to play with), horse costumes, smallish horses, and just hobby.
One Rex poster brought up Humbert Humbert, the hebephile from Nabokov’s Lolita. In the 1997 movie version, Lo was played by Dominique Swain (Jeremy Irons was HH). You can see why he fell for her.
In the 1962 version, Lo was played by Sue Lyon, and HH was James Mason.
Years later, in an interview for Life magazine, Nabokov said:
“I would say that of all my books Lolita has left me with the most pleasurable afterglow—perhaps because it is the purest of all, the most abstract and carefully contrived. I am probably responsible for the odd fact that people don’t seem to name their daughters Lolita any more. I have heard of young female poodles being given that name since 1956, but of no human beings.”
At one point, 36D, the puzzle went from H to B. The clue was “Homemaker from Mayberry,” and the answer was BEE TAYLOR — Aunt Bee from the Andy Griffith Show. Several folks noted that her full name is Beatrice and thought it should be BEA and not BEE, but they are completely wrong, and idiots, and they should shut up. It’s spelled BEE everywhere you look (though I don’t know why). The actress was Frances Bavier who was born way back in 1902 in NYC and lived to age 86. Her original plan was to be a teacher after graduating from Columbia. I can see that. She certainly seemed teacher-y with Opie. [My brother went out with a kindergarten teacher for a while. He complained that whenever he tried to kiss her goodnight, she’d say “I said no!“] As for Aunt Bee, she was young before she was old. Can you believe this is she?
Kinahora, Jim Leyland, the MLB manager just elected to the Hall of Fame, turns 79 next week. He managed 3,499 games, mostly for Detroit and Pittsburgh. In 1997, though, he won the World Series with the Marlins. His winning percentage was only .506, but he often worked with very weak teams. In his eleven years with the Pirates, he won the division three years in a row, but in all but one of his other years there, the team finished under .500. In his eight years with Detroit, he also won the division three years in a row, and in all but one of his other years there, the Tigers finished over .500.
His election to the HOF was a no-brainer. I saw it coming (pat on back) and picked up his autograph for a song years ago, see below. Perhaps the most telling fact about his 22-year career: he was never fired — unheard of for a manager. The three times he left a team, it was his own choice.
I read this story about him long ago. He was a heavy smoker (I hope he gave that up), and in ill health for a while. During one tense game, he collapsed in the dugout, and was rushed to the hospital. The EMT in the ambulance, unaware of who he was, was asking him health-related questions. When he got to “Do you have a high-stress job?” Leyland just started laughing.
He’s been married to his wife Katie since 1987 and they live in a suburb of Pittsburgh. They have a son and a daughter. The son, Patrick, played minor league ball for a while as a catcher/first-baseman. Wonder if he’ll manage someday.
Mazel Tov, JL. Well-deserved.
That’s enough nonsense for today. See you tomorrow.
When Isaac Bashevis Singer was asked if he believed in free will, he said “We must believe in free will — We have no choice.” That’s pretty much the conclusion of a review in The New Yorker of 11/13/23 by Nikhil Krishnan (NK) called “Make Me,” of a book by Robert M. Sapolsky, “Determined: A Science of Life Without Free Will.”
Apparently (did you know this?), science has come down on the side of determinism, i.e., everything is pre-determined, so there is no free will. Sapolsky is so convinced that all the disciplines, including history, negate the presence of free will that he says: “there’s not a single crack of daylight to shoehorn in free will.”
That means it makes no sense to blame anyone for anything, or to reward anyone for anything either. It’s called “causal determinism.” As NK writes: “If science tells us to be determinists, and determinism is incompatible with freedom, shouldn’t we give up on judging people for doing what they were destined to do?”
Sapolsky is exasperated that so many “sophisticates” are skeptical about free will skepticism. As NK puts it, “determinism, they tend to hold, is compatible with freedom, and therefore with moral responsibility, and therefore with blame, gratitude, and so on. The term for that happy reconciliation is ‘compatibilism.’ A compatibilist agrees that our actions are determined but denies that this truth casts doubt on anything of significance about human practices.”
Sapolsky mockingly claims their arguments boil down to three sentences:
a. Wow, there’ve been all these cool advances in neuroscience, all reinforcing the conclusion that ours is a deterministic world.
b. Some of those findings challenge our notions of agency, moral responsibility, and deservedness so deeply that one must conclude that there is no free will.
c. Nah, it still exists.
The problem is, even Sapolsky himself can’t make peace with his world view: “he admits to being a normal guy with normal guy feelings. ‘It’s been a moral imperative for me to view humans without judgment or the belief that anyone deserves anything special, to live without a capacity for hatred or entitlement,’ he writes. ‘And I just can’t do it.’ He’s in permanent misalignment with his theory of the world.”
His whole book comes down to what Singer said in one sentence: We have to believe in free will — we have no choice.
I went to hear Singer speak once. There was a question period at the end, and a woman got up and raved about how wonderful he was — she read all of his books, they were all outstanding and they changed her life, and so on and so on. When she finally came to a stop, Singer had a gleam in his very blue eyes and said: “Madam — you failed to pose a question — but I’ll forgive you.”
We attended a concert by the New Jersey Symphony in Morristown yesterday. When I checked the program ahead of time, I saw that Joshua Bell was slated to be both performing (Mendelssohn’s Violin Concerto), and conducting! How could he do both simultaneously?, I wondered. Phil said he saw it done on an assignment several years ago and it was pretty amazing. I’ll say! Here’s how JB did it yesterday:
When we took our seats, we noticed an unusual bench sort of thing in the center of the stage, angled downward towards the audience. When Bell came on stage (to very warm applause) he smiled and bowed and then lay down on his back on that contraption, — legs up and head downward. It was then that I noticed he wasn’t wearing shoes or socks!! He nodded at the concertmaster (the first violinist), who then proceeded to place a baton between the big toe and the next toe of Bell’s right foot. Bell then lowered his violin down onto his shoulder and began to play while conducting the orchestra with his feet!!
It was extraordinary – who wouldn’t be moved by those gorgeous Mendelssohn strains?! The only problem that arose — and it was momentary — was at a particularly lively moment when Bell lost his balance and tumbled off the bench, with his violin shooting off in one direction and the bow in the other. But it either happened in an earlier performance too or they rehearsed for it because he was back on the bench and in position within a second or two — he’s incredibly dexterous. I don’t think the folks in the back of the hall even knew what happened — and the orchestra didn’t miss a beat.
The ovation at the end was very appreciative, and the audience was buzzing during the whole intermission. Amusingly, we were sitting way up close so I could see off stage that Bell was having trouble finding his shoes. I think some of the cellists may have hidden them as a little good-natured prank; I could hear JB saying: “C’mon fellas — really — it’s cold out here.”
Photos were not allowed during the performance, but Phil managed to snare this shot of Maestro Bell before it started.
I neglected to show you how beautifully yesterday’s grid was constructed. Note the elegance of the symmetry. (Puzzles are required to be symmetrical.)
At 62D the answer was RED CEDAR (“Evergreen tree with fragrant bark”).
Rex poster Pete shared this with us (from which I learned the words dioecious and monoecious).
I came to praise the glory of RED CEDARs, or at least Eastern RED CEDARs. There are a lot of them in the park where I frequently walk my dogs, and this fall they were just full of berries, except they’re not berries, but we’ll call them berries because they’re technically juniper berries, just not juniper juniper berries, if you know what I mean. Trees full of green leaves looking more teal than green because the berries are as plentiful as the leaves. About half are that way, because most are dioecious, i.e. there are male and female Eastern RED CEDARS. There are also a small percentage of Eastern RED CEDARS that are monoecious, both male and female, because sex is not binary and is confusing as hell so we should all just keep our mouths shut about it and respect each tree for what it is. The production of seeds also takes three years, year one flowers appear on the ‘female’ trees and are pollinated, year two little bulbs form on the trees, year three they mature to the ripe berries. At the end of year three, they get swarmed by birds, and the seeds get distributed, complete with fertilizer. Such is the circle of life.
Yesterday, 66D was “Carmina Burana composer,” who is, of course, CARL ORFF. Here’s a good way to use it in a sentence: “Once it was clear that the bank robbers had left New Jersey, the Jersey state troopers decided to Carl Orff the search.”
So when I found out the dog could talk, I asked him who composed Carmina Burana and he said “Orff, Orff.” Correct!
Gosh, there must be a million of those — those two just came to me Orff the top of my head. I’ll take a little time Orff and see what I can come up with later.
(Phil was Orff somewhere, so I got this photo Orff the internet.)
At 20A today, the clue was “Make history at the Olympics, say,” and the answer was SET A NEW RECORD. It set Orff a bit of a flurry.
First, pbc noted: SETANEWRECORD is a pet peeve among professional copy editors. It’s not possible to set an old record, so any editor who’s paying attention will delete the ‘new’ and turn the phrase into, ‘set a record.’ The editor will then turn to colleagues and mock the sloppiness of the writer.
But Joe Dipinto disagreed: SET A NEW RECORD is fine, it acknowledges that there was a previous record quantified for the thing. Especially apropos when a famously long-held record gets broken, such as Hank Aaron’s surpassing Babe Ruth’s home run total.
And CT2Napa disagreed differently:
From OED: new. Not previously existing; now made or brought into existence for the first time. So a RECORD that didn’t exist before and is now made or brought into existence for the first time would seem to be a NEW RECORD.
(But that wouldn’t apply very Orfften.)
Does this woman, Sheynnis Palacios, look like a revolutionary to you?
Well, she does to President Ortega of Nicaragua, and it’s probably a good thing that she’s out of the country for the time being. Here’s the deal. First of all, she won the Miss Universe contest this year, a first for Nicaragua. Hard to make a case against her deserving it, amirite?
Anyway, where were we? Oh, yeah, so photos of her attending anti-government rallies in 2018 surfaced. Ortega, the authoritarian leader, accused the pageant director, Karen Celebertti, of conspiring against him by engineering an anti-government Miss U win . She’s been charged with crimes (although she’s in Mexico at the moment), and her husband and son have been detained.
At protest rallies, which have since been declared illegal, protesters wave blue and white flags, instead of Ortega’s red and black. Some have interpreted Ms. Palacios’s white dress/blue cape combo, below, as referencing the protests. Owl Chatter is with you, ladies. Hoping for the best.
That’s a pretty smile to go Orff with tonight. See you tomorrow! — thanks for stopping by.
Owl Chatter is deliriously happy to welcome the newest member of our staff: Former Congressman George Santos!! What an honor and privilege. With our focus on moronic nonsense and lack of any moral compass whatsoever, it was (literally) a no-brainer to bring GS on board once he was ig-no-minniemouse-ly booted from the House. George tells us he’s already established an excellent rapport with staff photographer Phil. (Phil says he’s never met Santos.)
Here’s our man in drag. Lookin’ good, Babe!
Owl Chatter is not alone is appreciating all that GS has to offer.
House Republican leadership, including Speaker Mike Johnson; Majority Leader Steve Scalise; GOP Conference Chairwoman Elise Stefanik, and Majority Whip Tom Emmer all voted to keep him in Congress. Similarly, many archconservative Republicans such as Marjorie Taylor Greene, Freedom Caucus Chair Scott Perry, and Tim Burchett of Tennessee voted to keep him in office. (Burchett is still recovering from burn wounds suffered when former-Speaker McCarthy rigged his office door to dump hot coals onto his head.)
Some constituents gathered at his district office in NY to offer Santos an unfond farewell. One fellow, 60-year-old John Johnson, yelled out of his car window: “Good riddance, you piece of crap.”
Don’t you listen to those meanies! You’re safe with us, George.
In other news, Speaker Mike Johnson said he thinks House Republicans have the votes to launch a formal impeachment inquiry into President Biden, insisting that such a move has “become a necessary step.” Absolutely!
“Elise [Stefanik] and I served on the impeachment defense team of Donald Trump twice, when the Democrats used it for brazen, partisan political purposes. We decried that use of it. This is very different. Remember, we are the rule-of-law team. We have to do it very methodically,” he said.
I did not make that up — it’s an actual quote. Could you plotz?
From today’s Met Diary, from Ana Cristina dos Santos Morais:
My husband and I got married at City Hall in Manhattan on a morning in 2009. A few people had to go to work after the ceremony. The rest of us, feeling hungry, went to a Belgian restaurant on West Broadway that has since closed.
The place wasn’t really set up for a party of 10, but the staff made do and pushed together a bunch of tables to accommodate us.
There was only one small table that we didn’t end up using. A man who appeared to be in his 30s was sitting at it working on a laptop.
We placed our orders and started to take photos of one another. The man working at his laptop asked if we would like a picture of the whole group.
We thanked him for his offer, and he took a couple of pictures. Then we went back to celebrating, and he turned back to his computer.
He left at some point after our food arrived, and I can’t remember if we said goodbye.
When we were finished, and my father asked for the check, the waitress said not to worry. The man with the laptop had already paid the bill.
Phil wanted us to know that one of his heroes, one of his favorite photographers, died last Wednesday, at his home in Manhattan at age 95: Elliott Erwitt. He lived on the Upper West Side for sixty years.
Apart from his very-well-respected serious work, Erwitt was known for seeking out silliness. Here’s a self portrait he took himself of himself in 1976. That’s him in the photo, you know, himself.
This famous photo he took of Nixon fingering Nikki K back in 1959 was used by Nixon in his 1960 Presidential campaign. Erwitt was angry — he hated Nixon, but couldn’t prevent its use by him.
Last, Philly wants me to include this fave of his. Here’s what the NYT says about it:
Another memorable photograph of Erwitt’s, from Edward Steichen’s landmark photo exhibition “The Family of Man” (and subsequent book) at the MOMA in New York, was titled “Mother and Child.” Taken in 1953, it shows a woman on a bed looking into her baby’s eyes while a cat coolly surveys the scene. The baby was Mr. Erwitt’s daughter, Ellen, and the woman was his first wife, Lucienne Matthews, who died in 2011.
Erwitt was married and divorced four times, and is survived by four daughters, two sons, ten grandchildren, and three great-grandchildren, all wallet-sized.
Jeez Louise, if you can’t get a few good hours of sleep at the opera, what’s the point? Much of Joshua Barone’s review of The Met’s production of Wagner’s “Tannhauser” in the Times today was devoted to climate protesters who effectively stopped the show during Act 2, amid a description by the character Wolfram of love as a miraculous spring. “Wolfram, wake up — the spring is tainted!,” a protester yelled, and unfurled a banner that said: “No Opera on a Dead Planet.” Other voices were raised and other banners unfurled. It was orchestrated by a group going by the name Extinction Rebellion.
The performers froze (ironic, in light of global warming) and the curtain came down. Some members of the audience left. Others expressed anger at the protesters. Security cleared the protesters, although the police said they made no arrests. After about 20 minutes, the performance continued, albeit with the house lights on so security could keep an eye on the audience.
Barone said he was unable to engage with the show again, although he gave the production a very favorable review.
Here’s one of the protesters. [No it isn’t.]
This poem from today’s Writer’s Almanac is by Robert Hayden and is called “Those Winter Sundays.”
Sundays too my father got up early and put his clothes on in the blueblack cold, then with cracked hands that ached from labor in the weekday weather made banked fires blaze. No one ever thanked him.
I’d wake and hear the cold splintering, breaking. When the rooms were warm, he’d call, and slowly I would rise and dress, fearing the chronic angers of that house,
Speaking indifferently to him, who had driven out the cold and polished my good shoes as well. What did I know, what did I know of love’s austere and lonely offices?
My dad was a doctor. So he never did any of that stuff. But, yeah, — what he said.
The puzzle today fell to my relentless attack, but there were some hard, weird words in it. RATINE: “Rough fabric with a loose weave.” MULCTS: “Compulsory payments of old.” RIFFLES: “Leafs,” like to leaf through a book. MASERS: “Acronymic devices in atomic clocks and radio telescopes.” The acronym is from: Microwave Amplification by the Stimulated Emission of Radiation. Of course!
And did you know there was a pre-cursor to Mickey Mouse? It was Oswald the Lucky Rabbit. Boy, you can sure see the resemblance.
We’re giving the last word today to Michelle Goldberg of the NYT, who wrote this today in her farewell to Owl Chatter’s new staff member, George Santos:
The MAGA movement is multifaceted, and different politicians represent different strains: There’s the dour, conspiracy-poisoned suburban grievance of Marjorie Taylor Greene, the gun-loving rural evangelicalism of Lauren Boebert, the overt white nationalism of Paul Gosar and the frat boy sleaze of Matt Gaetz. But no one embodies Trump’s fame-obsessed sociopathic emptiness like Santos. He’s heir to Trump’s sybaritic nihilism, high-kitsch absurdity and impregnable brazenness.
Yesterday’s puzzle had so many little doors to open and walk through. 42A was “Bringing in, as a sail,” and I thought furling might do it. You know, the opposite of unfurling. Or, once I had a few crossing letters, reeling seemed like it might work. But it turned out to be REEFING, which I had never heard of.
Anoa Bob contributed this very helpful post:
“Did a hitch in the Navy in the 60s and bought my first sailboat in the early 70s and have long had a interest in all things nautical, so I definitely perked up when I saw 42A “Bringing in, as a sail”. My first thought was “sheeting” where the angle of a sail to the wind is brought in (or let out). REEFING is a reducing of the amount of sail exposed to the wind, usually by partially hauling it down (and securing it with REEF knots). Furling is folding up and securing a sail after it has been doused or hauled down so it doesn’t blow around uncontrollably in the wind.
“Aarg, I’ve done me duty, now where’s me grog?”
This fellow is reefing a mainsail. I can’t tell what he’s saying, but I bet it ends in “You idiot!!”
At 18A the clue was one word: “Coruscate.” OK, what the hell does that mean? I had heard of it but had no idea. Five letters; turned out to be GLEAM. It’s said of light — to flash or sparkle.
At 18A, “Freak on a Leash” band was KORN. Word of them had not reached me under my rock. Rex noted Korn is also the name of a painting by Gerhard Richter in the Guggenheim. This one:
The puzzle also led us to two extraordinary areas of natural beauty: The SLOT CANYONS of Zion National Park, and, well, Taylor Swift.
We had been to Zion on a family trip several hundred years ago, but I did not know, or forgot, that those things are called slot canyons: 13D, “Narrow landforms prevalent in Zion National Park.” Narrow canyons with steep walls, sort of “slots” in the landscape. I do recall walking through them.
Taylor Swift popped up in the clue at 34D: “Reality show whose cast appeared in the music video for Taylor Swift’s ‘You Need to Calm Down.’” The answer was QUEER EYE. Take a look/listen:
Hey, SASHA OBAMA dropped in too! How ya been, girl? Twenty-two now? — No Sh*t! Sit yourself down — how bout a cold Rheingold? That should be okay with your folks, no? Some Sunchips? [BTW, the clue was “Youngest White House resident since John F. Kennedy Jr.”]
Sasha started college at UMich (yay) but transferred to USC (boo), and graduated last May. [Yikes!! — did you know that in February of 2017, her sister Malia started an internship for Harvey Weinstein at The Weinstein Company film studio in NYC?! Sheesh. She apparently emerged unscathed and graduated from Harvard in 2021.] Here’s Sash on her big day. Knock ’em dead, sister!
Speaking of daughters, today’s poem from The Writer’s Almanac is by Brendan Galvin and is called “For a Daughter Gone Away.”
Today there’ve been moments the earth falters and almost goes off in those trails of smoke that resolve to flocks so far and small they elude my naming. Walking the old Boston & Maine roadbed, September, I understand why it takes fourteen cormorants to hold the bay’s rocks down. Have I told you anything you ought to know? In time you’ll come to learn that all clichés are true, that a son’s a son till he marries, and a daughter’s a daughter all her life, but today I want to begin Latin One with you again, or the multiplication tables. For that first phrase of unwavering soprano that came once from your room, I’d suffer a year of heavy metal. Let all who believe they’re ready for today call this sentimentality, but I want the indelible print of a small hand on the knees of my chinos again, now that my head’s full of these cinders and clinkers that refused fire’s refinements. I wish I could split myself to deepen and hold on as the crossties have, and admit goatsbeard and chicory, blue curls and blazing star, those weeds of your never quite coming back. I wish I could stop whatever’s driving those flocks and drove the B & M freights into air.
Here are goatsbeard, blue curls, and blazing star, respectively.
If yesterday was your birthday — are you funny? I ask because it was the birthday of both Richard Pryor and Woody Allen. Allen was born in 1935. Despite his name, Pryor was born subsequently — in 1940. Allen still lives (he’s 88), and Pryor doesn’t (he died shortly after turning 65). This short clip is a bit raw. [In particular, if his use of the N word offends you, skip it.]
Today’s puzzle did me in. Even Rex rated it Medium-Challenging. I was okay except for one damn square. 14A was “Statement of admiration after someone’s impressive feat,” which I was pretty sure was WHAT A BEAUT. But that U made 8D (“Stuff in microdots”) LUD. Since I have no idea what’s in a microdot, it might as well be LUD, right? Anyway, that’s where I fell. It turned out to be LSD, and WHAT A BEAST. (Boo.)
At 24D the clue was simply “Likewise,” and the answer was SO DO I. I know I shared this gorgeous song once before, but I’m putting it in again. It’s by Wally Page and is sung by Christy Moore (with Declan Sinnott).
This is the day the fisherman likes, and so do I.
I got nothing to top that. See you tomorrow! (Go Blue!)
Margaret Walker died on this date in 1998 in Chicago at age 83. She was born in Birmingham, Alabama, to Sigismund C. Walker, a minister, and Marion (née Dozier) Walker, who taught her philosophy and poetry as a child. She was captivated by the bedtime stories her grandmother told her, which were often tales of slavery. She knew at a young age that she wanted to become a writer so she could write books about people of color that would not make her feel ashamed. She married Firnist Alexander in 1943. They had four kids and remained married until death did them part.
Her poem, “For My People,” was The Poetry Foundation’s poem of the day today.
For my people everywhere singing their slave songs repeatedly: their dirges and their ditties and their blues and jubilees, praying their prayers nightly to an unknown god, bending their knees humbly to an unseen power;
For my people lending their strength to the years, to the gone years and the now years and the maybe years, washing ironing cooking scrubbing sewing mending hoeing plowing digging planting pruning patching dragging along never gaining never reaping never knowing and never understanding;
For my playmates in the clay and dust and sand of Alabama backyards playing baptizing and preaching and doctor and jail and soldier and school and mama and cooking and playhouse and concert and store and hair and Miss Choomby and company;
For the cramped bewildered years we went to school to learn to know the reasons why and the answers to and the people who and the places where and the days when, in memory of the bitter hours when we discovered we were black and poor and small and different and nobody cared and nobody wondered and nobody understood;
For the boys and girls who grew in spite of these things to be man and woman, to laugh and dance and sing and play and drink their wine and religion and success, to marry their playmates and bear children and then die of consumption and anemia and lynching;
For my people thronging 47th Street in Chicago and Lenox Avenue in New York and Rampart Street in New Orleans, lost disinherited dispossessed and happy people filling the cabarets and taverns and other people’s pockets and needing bread and shoes and milk and land and money and something—something all our own;
For my people walking blindly spreading joy, losing time being lazy, sleeping when hungry, shouting when burdened, drinking when hopeless, tied, and shackled and tangled among ourselves by the unseen creatures who tower over us omnisciently and laugh;
For my people blundering and groping and floundering in the dark of churches and schools and clubs and societies, associations and councils and committees and conventions, distressed and disturbed and deceived and devoured by money-hungry glory-craving leeches, preyed on by facile force of state and fad and novelty, by false prophet and holy believer;
For my people standing staring trying to fashion a better way from confusion, from hypocrisy and misunderstanding, trying to fashion a world that will hold all the people, all the faces, all the adams and eves and their countless generations;
Let a new earth rise. Let another world be born. Let a bloody peace be written in the sky. Let a second generation full of courage issue forth; let a people loving freedom come to growth. Let a beauty full of healing and a strength of final clenching be the pulsing in our spirits and our blood. Let the martial songs be written, let the dirges disappear. Let a race of men now rise and take control.
On a lighter note, this was the poem in The Writer’s Almanac today. It’s by Robert Lax and is called “Therapist.” [It continues the gymnastics theme we introduced recently with Olga Korbut.]
a man came to me with the following problem:
«my mother-in-law, he said, «despises me; my creditors, once friendly, are now all over me; my wife threatens to leave me tomorrow unless i put the children in a better school; my employers criticize the tone of my work for what they call a failure of nerve. what do you suggest i do?»
i turned a somersault for him & he felt better.
Winston Churchill and Mark Twain share this date as their birthday, the former born in 1874, and the latter in 1835. They met in 1899 in London at a party. Twain was 63 and Churchill 24. Here’s how it was described to Twain later:
You [Twain] and Churchill went up to the top floor to have a smoke and a talk, and Harcourt [another guest] wondered what the result would be. He said that whichever of you got the floor first would keep it to the end, without a break; he believed that you, being old and experienced, would get it and that Churchill’s lungs would have a half‑hour’s rest for the first time in five years. When you two came down, by and by, Churchill was asked if he had had a good time, and he answered eagerly, “Yes.” Then you (Twain) were asked if you had a good time. You hesitated, then said without eagerness, “I have had a smoke.”
They met again two years later in NY. Churchill was on a lecture tour, and Twain introduced him to the audience at the Waldorf. Years later, in his book My Early Life, here’s how Churchill remembered that evening:
Throughout my journeyings, I received the help of eminent Americans, and… I was thrilled by this famous companion of my youth. [Twain] was now very old and snow‑white, and combined with a noble air a most delightful style of conversation. Of course we argued about the [Boer] war…. I think however I did not displease him; for he was good enough at my request to sign every one of thirty volumes of his works for my benefit; and in the first volume he inscribed the following maxim intended, I daresay, to convey a gentle admonition: “To do good is noble; to teach others to do good is nobler, and no trouble.”
Article in The Onion:
25,000 Recalled High Chairs Returned To Manufacturer With Infant Still In Seat
“To be clear, we really just wanted the high chairs back for safety reasons—we aren’t equipped to take these kids,” said Graco spokesperson Steven Sanders, describing the thousands of 6- and 7-month-olds who had arrived at the company’s loading bay strapped into the company’s defective high chairs, many with their faces still covered in food. “We’re trying to figure out the best path forward. This is an industrial factory environment, and the babies are clearly not happy here.”
14A today: “Evidence that one is going into labor?” Ans: UNION CARD.
26A: RAISA Gorbachev. Remember her? She died in 1999. She and hubby Mikhail had one daughter, Irina. On June 1, 1990, Barbara Bush and Raisa addressed the graduating class at Wellesley College on the role of women in modern society.
Mikhail was a devoted and loving husband. He wept openly at her funeral. “One day we took each other by the hand and went for a walk in the evening. And we walked like that for our whole life,” Gorbachev told Vogue magazine in 2013. He released a CD of seven romantic songs, “Songs for Raisa,” in 2009 on which he sang along with well-known Russian musician and guitarist Andrei Makarevich. He is buried next to her.
This statue of a beautiful young Raisa watches over their graves in Moscow.
Sportsfans — you hear of Jesse Luketa? Me neither — he’s a linebacker for the ‘Zona Cardinals. Played his college ball at Penn State and was drafted in the seventh round. He drives a 2019 BMW and the front left tire had been acting up. Usually, adding some air took care of it, but last Sunday it breathed its last breath. As luck would have it (bad), he was on his way to the Stadium for the game against the Rams, and it didn’t look like he could make it in time under the circumstances.
Thinking fast (as is required of linebackers) Luketa noticed a guy in an old ‘Zona jersey pumping gas into his car. Three kids in the back were all wearing ‘Zona gear too. Bingo! He explained who he was and what happened to his tire. The guy’s wife squeezed into the back with the kids, Luketa settled into the front seat and they raced to the Stadium, arriving with 8 minutes to spare. He talked football to the kids the whole time and they were in heaven. He got them a spot in the players’ lot and met them after the game for photos. He promised them tix for the next home game.
The dad’s name was J.W. Phillips. He said they didn’t help Luketa because he was a pro football player. He was just a guy with a flat tire who had to get somewhere. Everything else was just a bonus.
Frances Sternhagen, the Tony-award winning actress, died in her home in New Rochelle on Monday at the age of 93. She went to college at Vassar and was studying history when an adviser suggested she try drama. The rest was history — or, rather, drama. Cheers fans will recognize her as Cliff Clavin’s mom. Cliff may have gotten his habit of explaining odd facts of interest to no one from her because in one scene we come upon her explaining that the Bermuda Triangle was actually a rhombus. The following clip takes place after Cliff tells her he “met someone.”
The Wellington Files 