This phrase has swept the nation of late: “social distancing.” Thanks to the COVID bug, we human beans have been cautioned to stay six feet apart from one another and to wear surgical face masks when outside the home. I’m having no problem obeying these commandments, since I’m pretty much confined to my recliner chair with lower back miseries. My only field trips are excursions to Dean Clinic to see a doctor or PT (physical torturer). If it weren’t for wife Ellen, I’d have expired weeks ago. Visits from son Jeremiah, his wife Kim, and their daughter Lily help a lot, too.

Friday Night Lights returns When God slams the door in your face, folks say there’s generally a window you can climb through if you’re limber enough. My compensation while laid-up is the return to the tele of reruns of my all-time favorite show, Friday Night Lights, about the men and women of the fictional rural town of Dillon, Texas and its high school football team. The show and a movie version were inspired by a nonfiction book called Friday Night Light: a Town, a Team, and a Dream, by H.G. “Buzz” Bissinger (1990). The book chronicled the 1988 season of the high school Permian, Texas Panthers. Peter Berg directed the movie version and adapted the story for television, eager for the chance to develop the characters more fully.

Kyle Chandler and Connie Britton led the ensemble cast as high school football coach Eric Taylor and his wife, Tami, a high school faculty member. Brad Leland played blustering Buddy Garrity, one of the town’s foremost businessmen and football booster.

You can’t go home again? Don’t tell Cleo A Labrador named Cleo trekked 60 miles from Kansas back to her old home in Missouri, which she and her family had moved away from two years before. She would have had to cross at least one river on the way.

Cleo, recuperating from her odyssey.

—More briefs ahead

Extra Innings

*** for writers, readers, and all those who love playing with language*** #119, Summer, 2020

COACH’S BULLPEN BRIEFS

Are you practicing social distancing?

Quote / Unquote Somebody once said to T.S. Eliot that most editors are failed writers. Eliot replied: “Yes. So are most writers.” P.S. The T.S. stands for “Thomas Stearns.” He wrote “The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock” at age 27 (1915) and at 34 wrote “The Waste Land” (1922).

Initial initials quiz Can you give the first and middle names of E.B. White, (The “White” in Strunk and White— Formal name The Elements of Style), A.A. Milne (Winnie the Pooh), J.D. Salinger (“Sonny” as a kid, author of Catcher in the Rye) J.K. Rowling (Harry Potter), poet E.E. Cummings (with or without capital letters), C.S. Lewis (The Screwtape Letters, Mere Christianity), and for extra credit J.R.R. Tolkien. But why did T.S. (Thomas Stearns) Eliot name the protagonist of his “love song” ‘J. Alfred Prufrock’ (not a very romantic name), and what does the “J.” in “J. Alfred” stand for? As a young man, Eliot signed his name “T. Stearns Eliot. I’m thinking “love song” juxtaposed with J. Alfred Prufrock is ironic. Answers: Elwyn Brooks White Alan Alexander Milne Jerome David Salinger Joanne Rowling (no middle name) Edward Estlin Cummings Clive Staples Lewis John Ronald Reuel Tolkien Clive Staples Lewis apparently never liked his name and is said to have assumed the name of a beloved dog named Jacksie after the dog had been hit by a car. For a long phase he would answer to no other name, and friends and close friends called him Jack his whole life. More unique names at end of Briefs. Great movie quotes Dept: Butch Cassidy (Paul Newman) and the Sundance Kid (Robert Redford) are being chased by a posse. Butch: “I think we lost them. Do you think we lost them?” Sundance: “I will if you will.”

E.I. page 2 From the Peanut gallery Q: What is Peppermint Patty’s real name? A: Patricia Reichardt Charlie Brown’s crush is known only as the “Little Red-Head girl.” Linus tells Charlie that her name is “Heather” and she’s Homecoming Queen. Drop trou and get your fortune read Jackie Stallone called herself a “rumpologist.” She was the mother of the actor Sylvester Stallone and Frank Stallone, a musician, singer-songwriter and film composer. But she lived a fascinating life in her own right. Ms. Stallone was by turns a circus aerialist, chorus girl, wrestling promoter, and gym owner before she wrote Starpower: An Astrological Guide to Super Success (1989). She was no mere palm reader. She practiced what she called “rumpology,” which she defined on her website as “the art of reading the lines, crevices, dimples, and folds of the buttocks” to understand a person and predict that person’s future. She grew up in a household where Charles Atlas, the famous bodybuilder, lived with the family and trained them in gymnastics, weight lifting, and jogging. At 15 she ran away to join the Flying Wallendas for the Ringling Bros. and Barnum & Bailey Circus. She was a chorus girl on Broadway, started an exercise program on a local TV station in Washington, and opened Barbella’s, a women-only gym, in the 1950s. She was active into her 90s, tap dancing and exercising on her Instagram account. And she would read your fortune for only $300 per cheek. —Info from Julia Carmel’s obituary on nytimes.com for September 23, 2020. Herzog University rated worst in Wisconsin Sez who? Sez a website called “Worst Colleges in America by State.” Primary indicators in the ratings include drop-out rate, average student debt, and average annual salary of graduates (which at $37,800 is only a shade higher than the average student debt of $32,204— with a 13.6% default rate for Herzog.) Use Google to see which institution of ‘higher’ learning wins the prize in your state.

A comment about our society? The music group Aerosmith has earned more money from the video game “Guitar Hero” than from any of its albums. Do academics have too much free time? Obviously. Scientists at the University of St. Andrews in Scotland taught a gray seal named Zola to sing “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star” and the theme to “Star Wars.” Maybe next she’ll master “Whatever Zola wants, Zola gets.” We can only hope. Coach’s Confessions * I really don’t read much poetry. (But if you send

me some of yours, I’ll sure read it and consider it for publication.)

* I don’t give a hoot about the British royals. Do you?

* Winston Churchill once noted that “babies all look alike to me.” I’m pretty much with Sir Winnie, except of course for “my” two babies, my son and my granddaughter.

* I once threw away a recyclable soda can. Glad I got that off my chest. The canaries in the coal mines Jay McInerney considered Kurt Vonnegut “a satirist with a heart, a moralist with a whoopee cushion.” Vonnegut wanted his novels to “catch people before they become generals and Senators and Presidents,” to “poison their minds with humanity” and “Encourage them to make a better world.” All artists, including writers, sound the alarm when society is being threatened, according to Vonnegut. They are the canaries in the coal mine, treasured as alarm systems. From Writer’s Digest “Presidential” Debate???? The first Biden-Trump face off was a pit bull attacking a fife dog. Pathetic. Chris Wallace was not up to the task, but I don’t know who would have been. The VP candidates were better. Proof that nature always bats last Doesn’t it make you smile if you spot a dandelion sprouting in the cracks in a concrete sidewalk?

E.I. page 3 “Progressive cancel culture” That’s what Trump supporters call anything said or written in opposition to their leader. It’s getting downright Orwellian out there. You’re from where? In the Adirondack town of Black Brook, NY there is an unincorporated little hamlet named Swastica, New York. The Town Council has been pressured many times to change the name, but as late as September 14 of this year they unanimously nixed any name change. “Swastica” is apparently Sanskrit for “well-being.” It’s also the name of the symbol for Hitler’s Nazi party. Town Council member Howard Aubin is on record saying, “only an intolerant person” would assume the name is connected to Nazis. Best all-time television theme songs My list includes Maverick (“Natchez to New Orleans, livin’ on jacks and queens, Maverick is a legend of the West.”); Sugarfoot (“easy lopin’ cattle ropin’ Sugarfoot”), and the instrumentals Perry Mason and Friday Night Lights. Hill Street Blues (“Found a Way”), Friends (“I’ll be There for You”), Superman, MASH (“Suicide is Painless”), Greatest American Hero (“Believe it or not”) I Love Lucy (unless Desi sings the words)— many more deserve mention. Daffynition: “Delete”: v: to have away with words. & then what happened…? The character ‘&,’ meaning “and,” is called an ampersand, although the character came 1,500+ years before the name. In the 1800s school children concluded their recitation of the ABCs with “x, y, z, and per se &, per se” indicating letters that doubled as words (like “I” and “A”). Saying “per se” indicated that you meant the symbol, not the word. “And per se” got slurred together to become— viola!—ampersand, which technically makes it a mondegreen (a word that comes about from a mistaken pronunciation). Class dismissed.

Real name revealed The real dress-up-and-go-to-church name of the Peanuts character called “Peppermint Patty” is Patricia Reichardt. Yum, Yum The Tot Aw Bakery in Indonesia makes cakes out of instant noodles and tops them with salted cuttlefish, chicken, or beef stew. Answers for the Name Game Elwyn Brooks White Alan Alexander Milne Jerome David Salinger Joanne Rowling (No middle name. Jo Rowling added a "K" for Kathleen (her grandma’s name) at her publisher’s request.) Edward Estlin Cummings Clive Staples Lewis John Ronald Reuel Tolkien Unique middle names include: Alasdair, Ace, Aella, Aiden, Amelia, Artemisia, Beretta, Blade, Blaze, Calcedon, Caradoc, Cassius, Cordovan, Cyprian, Danger (!) Django, Darby, Equinox, Harley, Harlow Ida, Kite, Lilith, Lola, Luna, Madoc, Malachite, Maraud, Oleander, Roxy, Ryder, Samhain, Samoset, Shabina, Tempest, Kartini, Venture, Cameo

Coach’s Cliche Watch “binge worthy” “tools in his/her tool box” “take a deep dive” Oldies game changer touch base synergy re-inventing the wheel win-win no-brainer low-hanging fruit

and the irony award winner… think outside the box* * Anyone using this isn’t doing much thinking in

or out of a box. * Always remember and never forget— AVOID CLICHES LIKE THE PLAGUE!

E.I. page 4 I was a mediocre student, but every fall I appeared in

the classroom door, struggled through college and

humanities courses of which I remember nothing at all

— I should’ve studied auto mechanics — and then

when I was 27, I was hired by a radio station to work

the 6 a.m. shift and the same fall, a magazine bought a

story of mine for $500. My monthly rent was $80. I

was off to the races.

Garrison Keillor

E.I. Author Mini-Profile Is Agatha Christie the GOAT? Well, probably not “Greatest” Of All Time, but definitely the best-selling novelist of all time. Her stuff has sold more than two billion (that’s billion— with a b!) novels, translated into over 100 languages. Mary Clarissa Agatha Miller was home school by her mother until she was 16. Her father died when she was young, but Christie described her childhood as “gloriously idle.” She made up ghost stories with her sisters and mother and liked reading Edward Lear and Lewis Carroll. At 16 she was sent to Paris to study piano and mandolin. She worked as a nurse at the Torquay Hospital during WW I, where she learned a lot about poisons, information that served her well when she started writing stories and novels. She wrote her first novel, Snow Upon the Desert, under the pen name “Monosyllaba.” She collected many rejections. She stuck with it, writing The Mysterious Affair at Styles (1920), featuring a Belgian detective named Hercule Poirot, who sported an extravagant mustache. Jackpot! Poirot would appear in 33 of Christie’s novels, even though his creator thought him “insufferable and an egocentric creep.” She killed him off in Curtain: Poirot’s Last Case in 1940 and stored it in a bank vault to safeguard it from the Nazis during WW II. When the book was published in 1975, The New York Times ran Poirot’s obituary on page 1.

E.I. WORD LOVER DEPT

Words to express sorrow

“For all sad words of tongue and pen, the saddest are these, ‘It might have been.’” —-John Greenleaf Whittier Heartbroken: adj: crushed with sorrow or grief. First usage recorded around 1580-1900. Goodbye: as Shakespeare noted in Romeo and Juliet, “parting is such sweet sorrow.” The first usage of the word was recorded between 1565-75, a contradiction of “God be with ye.” if only: can mean “I wish that…” or an expression of wistful regret. Both uses date back to before 900. lonely: first recorded usage in English around 1600. Lone dates back even further, to around 1325-75. Cue Roy Orbison’s “Only the lonely.” love: is of course a marvelous word— unless preceded by the word … unrequited: “Requite” means to give or do in return” and dates back to 1535-45. melancholy: a gloomy state of mind. First recorded in 1275-1325, it comes from the Greek “melancholia,” having black bile. time for bed: a dread phase to a kid, downright ominous, right up there with “back to school”— but a sweet promise to an exhausted adult. almost: “very nearly,” “all but,” so close”… forlorn: just sounds sad, doesn’t it? Desolate, dreary, miserable, down in the dumps, woebegone. too late: “Just missed.” It could be worse: Too little too late. “Late” in English goes back to before 900 and is related to German “lass.” slothful:, Gothic “lats” (slow lazy) and Latin “lassus” (tired). My pick for saddest song lyric: “I’m so lonesome I could die,” when sung by Hank Williams.

E.I. page 5 10 suggestions for your writing sessions 1) Establish a “writing place” in your home.

It’s for writing only, and you’re not to be disturbed when you’re at it. Maybe you have the luxury of a spare room, but it isn’t necessary. A table and chair in the basement (next to the furnace in the winter) can do fine as long as you have adequate lighting.

2) Assemble your materials (dictionary, computer / typewriter/ paper, pen, reference books…) and keep them in the writing place.

3) Make an appointment to write and mark it on the calendar (right along with “Call vet about Nipper’s habit of biting himself in the butt,” “Don’t forget the Crisco,” and “Finish reading War and Peace.”).

4) Show up at the appointed time. 5) Reread #4 as many times as necessary. 6) Get a running start. Free write rapidly to

get the juices flowing. 7) Don’t wait to get stuck and/or exhausted

before you knock off for the day. Stop in the middle of a thought or even a sentence. It eliminates wasted time at the beginning of the next session.

8) Don’t try to edit while you write or

immediately after. Let the writing cool off so you can come back to it with new eyes.

9) Start your next writing session by rereading / editing the previous session’s output. You’ll never be “objective” about your writing, just as you wouldn’t be objective about your kids. But you can still be critical and seek to improve it— both the writing and your kids’ behavior.

10) Don’t try to judge the quality of the writing until your next editing/writing session.

E.I. page 6

Lookin' Out My Back Door Creedence Clearwater Revival Just got home from Illinois, lock the front door, oh boy! Got to sit down, take a rest on the porch Imagination sets in, pretty soon I'm singin' Doo, doo, doo, lookin' out my back door Giant doin' cartwheels, statue wearin' high heels Look at all the happy creatures dancin' on the lawn Dinosaur Victrola list'nin' to Buck Owens Doo, doo, doo, lookin' out my back door Tambourines and elephants are playin' in the band Won't you take a ride on the flyin' spoon? Doo, doo, doo Wond'rous apparition provided by magician Doo, doo, doo, lookin' out my back door Tambourines and elephants are playin' in the band Won't you take a ride on the flyin' spoon? Doo, doo,… Forward troubles Illinois, lock the front door, oh boy! Look at all the happy creatures dancin' on the lawn Bother me tomorrow, today, I'll buy no sorrow “Doo, doo, doo, lookin' out my back door”

John Fogerty

When my widowed mother died in 1957, at age 54, I was 21, single, and living at home in an Iowa small town. I became legal guardian of my minor brothers, a 15-year old, and twins, age 11. Two others died in the 1940s: 15-year-old Norma and baby Donald. Although my brothers and I remained in the home rented from our uncle, I felt no ownership of household belongings. My parents left nothing of monetary value, but thus began a sentimental journey of keepsakes. Today, some are now held by a fourth generation.

With no rules enacted, the oldest, Joe, retained the crucifix from Ma’s casket and a picture called The Lone Wolf that had hung in each of the homes my parents occupied. Joe’s wife asked for the cast iron griddle that fit over two stove burners. Iris and Joe had five young daughters (later another); the griddle was a useful memento. Their oldest daughter now has it. Another daughter has the crucifix, and she gave the Lone Wolf to her son.

Vince was next eldest. I’m unaware of anything he claimed; perhaps the crucifix from our dad’s casket, or his carpentry tools and handmade carrier, or an old shotgun (which carries a tale or two).

Sybella (Billie) said that, as oldest daughter, Ma promised her the cedar chest she’d had since becoming a bride at age 18, in 1921. Years later, the chest survived a house fire. Billie’s granddaughter now has it.

Dolores chose the Sick Call crucifix, used that Good Friday morning in April by the priest who administered Extreme Unction, the last rites of the Catholic faith, to our mother.

Merlyn—I don’t know; maybe he toted away the 50 pound weight the boys hefted to build muscles.

Daryl called dibs on the framed portrait photograph of Poppy in his Doughboy uniform, but later accidentally left it in a rented room in Virginia. It was never retrieved. He had a letter from Poppy, received after his death, which Daryl gave me. Over the years, Poppy’s pistol changed hands from Joe to Daryl to Gary to Gary’s grandson. The men called it a Luger, possibly from World War I, but its provenance is unknown. Replicas were popular after the war.

My younger sister, Shirley, said she’d been promised Ma’s gold wedding band. I overheard the elders decide it should go to me because I would have responsibility for the boys. Early in her marriage, Ma’s engagement ring, a small diamond, disappeared from a drawer (she wore it on Sundays). She suspected a hired man took it. Shirley, upset about not gaining the ring, chose Ma’s statue of the Blessed Virgin Mary.

Larry, at 17, was in the Air Force in Japan. He received a letter from Ma, after her death, but to my knowledge he had nothing else tangible, nor did Danny. Danny always claimed to be Ma’s favorite. We let him own that. The youngest, Dennis, has a two-seater bench that Poppy made. As a child, Dennis shared the bench at mealtime with his twin, David, now deceased. The vintage piece will go to David’s daughter—and perhaps to one of her twin sons.

I have ancestral portraits and black and white photos recording the days of our young lives. These photos, letters, and miscellaneous documents later led to my compiling family history. Still later, I published a memoir: In Her Shoes: Step By Step.

When the twins and I vacated the house in 1959 for an apartment in a nearby city, many household furnishings had to go.

Top of the Tenth E.I. page 7

Madonna Dries Christensen

Sentimental Journey

I had no use for Ma’s treadle sewing machine, nor her box camera, but I kept the Kodak a few years before letting it go.

Because my mother died young, most of her grandchildren never knew her; the few who do have veiled memories. Only the oldest, Kaye, remembers her grandfather, who died in 1952. I’ve given items to some grandchildren: dishes, bowls, and Norma’s childhood doll. Family things currently in my home will fall into my daughter’s hands.

Serendipity entered the distribution in the 1990s when Daryl visited the farm where our parents lived for 20 years. The dilapidated barn was going to be razed. As Daryl collected souvenir boards, he found a plank with our father’s initials carved in it. I now have it, and also a rough stone from the foundation of my great- grandfather’s barn in Wisconsin.

For Catholics, the month of May is devoted to the Blessed Virgin Mary. In our 1940s childhood, Shirley and I created a May altar. We placed our mother’s statue on a table along with flowers and a candle and knelt there to pray the rosary.

Fast forward to the age of technology; 2017. As May commenced, I opened Facebook and there, like an apparition, stood a graceful lady in a white gown and pale blue mantle. It took a moment for me to recognize the Blessed Virgin statue. I hadn’t known that Shirley had given it to our niece, Kelli, after her mother (Dolores) passed away. The photograph evoked the fragrance of lilacs, apple blossoms, and peonies adorning our humble altar. Kelli sent me a photo of the aforementioned Last Rites crucifix. Maybe someday her oldest son, who once considered the priesthood, will take possession of that, and her daughter the statue—more than a century old.

Although I’m a lapsed Catholic, I say the rosary. Never were prayers more fervent than in early 2020 when a horrendous Pandemic stopped the world. One day I realized that both rosaries I owned were broken.

Where did one buy a new rosary? I have nun friends in Texas, and I decided to contact them. They have a gift shop in their retirement home.

That day, before I had an opportunity to send an e-mail to the nuns, Kelli contacted me. Among her mother’s belongings, in an old envelope, she found a prayer card from our sister Norma’s funeral in 1943, a pink comb, a faded scapular, and a rosary with brown beads.

We’re not certain who the items belonged to, but it seems likely to have been Norma, because Dolores had saved a lock of her younger sister’s hair, which I now have. I have other of Norma’s things, including a prayer book, The Catholic Girl’s Guide, which my mother gave me when I was confirmed at age 12. Norma received it in 1939 for her Solemn Holy Communion. She’d have been 11. I scanned a photo of her holding the prayer book and what looks like a dark rosary. It’s blurred, and I can’t be certain. No matter—the beads belonged to one of my dear sisters.

I had wondered where to get a rosary. Within days, I had a special one. Was this coincidence? Serendipity? Divine intervention?

According to Kelli’s sister, Paula, “I feel the hand of God in this connection.”

Ed. note: And with that, our Columnist of Longest Duration (COLD) has retired—

MADONNA’S FAREWELL MESSAGE

With regret, I plan to retire my COLD uniform. I'm struggling with a health problem that daily takes all my focus and energy. You're no stranger to setbacks, so I know you understand. If things improve, and I find something to contribute I'll send it along.

My association with you these past 20 some years has been a pleasure. Without having ever met you, I consider you a dear friend. You've given me writing opportunities since I was a novice. I have a 3-ring binder filled with copies of everything (I think) I've written for CC [Creativity Connectiion] and EI.

We will, I hope, continue to stay in touch.

With affection,

Madonna You can count on that.

— Marshall

10 steps to good writing * 1) Establish a “writing place” in your home.

It’s for writing only, and you’re not to be disturbed when you’re at it. Maybe you have the luxury of a spare room, but it isn’t necessary. A table and chair in the basement (next to the furnace in the winter) can do fine (as long as you have adequate lighting).

2) Assemble your materials (dictionary, computer / typewriter/ paper, pen, reference books…) and keep them in the writing place.

3) Make an appointment to write and mark it on the calendar (right along with “Call vet about Nipper’s habit of biting himself in the butt,” “Don’t forget the Crisco,” and “Finish reading War and Peace.”)

4) Show up at the appointed time. 5) Reread #4 as many times as necessary. 6) Don’t wait to get stuck and/or exhausted

before you knock off for the day. Stop in the middle of a thought or even a sentence. It eliminates wasted time at the beginning of the next session.

7) Don’t try to make major edits while you write or immediately after. Let the writing cool off so you can come back to it with new eyes.

8) Start your next writing session by rereading / editing the previous session’s output. You’ll never be “objective” about your writing, just as you wouldn’t be objective about your kids. But you can still be critical and seek to improve them— both the writing and your kids’ behavior.

9) Get a running start. Free write rapidly to get the juices flowing.

10) Don’t try to judge the quality of the writing until your next editing/writing session.

* Notice that the word “easy” does not appear in this headline.

E.I. page 9

What a great number is 76, as in “trombones” and “the Spirit of …” It’s also a brand of gasoline, Union 76, which used to sponsor Los Angeles Dodger baseball on the radio, narrated by the incomparable Vin Scully, the finest baseball announcer there ever was or ever will be. “The sign of the finest, the sign of the 76.” (I’ve got a lot of commercial jingles stored away in the attic. How about you? Fill in the blank: “Mmmmm mmmmm, good, mmmmmm mmmmmm good, that’s what _________ soup is, “umm umm good.” Yeah, I thought you could.) Editor’s note: I can’t swear to the number of ‘m’s’ in ‘mmmmmm.’ I’ve still got almost a full year to think of something good to say about being 77. My cousin Susie and I both turned seven the year Grandfather Beymer, our beloved “Dandy,” turned 77. He had special “777” pins made for the three of us. He was an author (“William Gilmore Beymer”— you can look him up). He used to let me sit on the floor in his wonderfully cluttered den right off the dining room of the old house on Kingsley Drive in Los Angeles, while he pecked away at his typewriter. A little wooden sign outside the door of the office said “The Pastor’s Study.” That sign hangs outside my home office door now. To keep me entertained Granddad would get down a large square blue box that had drawers filled with miniatures— soldiers, soldiers on horseback, cannons.

I’d refight the Civil War, often letting the Rebs win (I’ve always loved the underdog) while the typewriter clattered in the background. He invariably wore slippers and puffed on his pipe, whether it was lit or not, and his wife, my equally beloved “Nanny,” would bring him tea— and milk and a cookie for me. That’s probably where I first got the notion that the writer’s life was for me. I stayed overnight in their house a few times. It was a wonderful old house, a two story with stairs that groaned when you walked on them and what I thought of as a “secret passage” from the first stair landing down into the kitchen. Their garage was filled with stacks and stacks of old newspapers (they never owned a car, and neither of them ever learned how to drive), and the back yard featured a huge oleander bush. I was warned never to eat a leaf from the oleander bush because they were poison. I only tried to eat a leaf from the oleander bush once. It was disgusting but didn’t kill me. When Dad got shore leave from the Navy, my older-by-four-years brother Dale got to stay over at Grandmother and Grandfather Beymer’s. Dad came marching home from the wars in 1945, when I was one, so I didn’t get to stay at Kingsley Drive nearly as much as Dale did. But how I loved those visits. ————————There’s more dead ahead…

E.I. page 10

My “Dandy” was a role model I was born on September 3, 1944, which makes me… Let’s see… 2020 minus 1944 is…four from zero you cannot take, so you carry a 10 over from the 10’s column, and four from 10 is six. That leaves you with the task of taking four from one in the 100’s column, which isn’t much better, so you have to take a hundred from the 20, which makes it 19 and gives you four from 11 to play with, and you get… a seven in the tens column, and now you’ve got an easy one— .take 19 from the 19 and you’re left with nothin’, so I’m … pretty darn old is what I am. Sneaks up on you, doesn’t it?

They were the only grandparents I ever knew. My dad had grown up tough in a slum in Paterson, New Jersey. His dad was an abusive drunk who beat his wife and kids. He deserted his family, apparently taking off for California. Grandmother Julia (maiden name Lebrecht, 100% Belgian) remarried another abusive drunk. Once Dad escaped Paterson, he had no desire to go back, although he did take my mom to meet his mother there once, before I was born. I have no idea how my dad learned to be such a wonderful father (despite the flash-point temper of the redhead he was). He didn’t have a good role model to follow, but he sure gave me one. So Nanny and Dandy were the only grandparents I ever knew, and perhaps I treasure them all the more because of that. Grandmother grew up in Los Angeles and went to Stanford, in Northern California, while grandfather was living in New York City, but somehow their lasting union was meant to be. I have never known a more devoted couple.

I found this picture of the cover one of Granddad’s book on Google. Underneath is a picture of one of my books. That makes me very happy.

AN E.I. HOW-TO Class up your curses Next time you really feel the need to insult somebody, go all Shakespearean on them. Call that jerk a knave— a liar, a cheat, a con artist. Don’t accuse him of cheating— say he “cozened” you. (Cozen meant “to make a cousin of…” which meant “make a fool of.”) Scumber (alternative “scummer”) is a good substitute for the four-letter s-word. As in “My dog scumbered all over the neighbor’s lawn.” Whelp is an old word for “puppy.” When applied to a child, it means “snot-nosed kid.” Some folks refer to their supposed inferiors as “trailer trash.” In the old days, they might have said “peasant” or churl. To this day, calling someone “churlish” is accusing them of being boorish, rude. To call someone a brick or a block is to call him/her a blockhead or dumbass. In Elizabethian times, pander and bawd were the male and female equivalent of pimp and madam (keeper of a brothel— or, as Popeye would call it, “a house of ill-repuke”). Sblood is short for “God’s blood,” a Shakespearean swear word using the Lord’s name. If you prefer to avoid blasphemy, try substituting “crikey,” a British exclamation of surprise, dismay, or disapproval. jobbernowl probably has French origins, brought into English by a satirical potty-mouth named John Marston. Your “noll” is the crown of your head, and jobbernowl means something like “meat head” or “numbskull.” Scald is a synonym for scurvy, a wretched kind of sea sickness brought on by a lack of Vitamin C. (No fruits and veggies in the middle of the ocean.) The symptoms ain’t pretty— included loose teeth and rough, easily-bruised skin. So if you call someone a “scald,” you’ve essentially said, “Ew! You’re gross!” Bedlamite. Bedlam was Bethlehem Royal Hospital, the oldest and most famous psychiatric hospital in Europe, founded in 1247 to take care of the poor and indigent. It became infamous for housing the mentally ill in horrid conditions and became known as “Bedlam.” In the 1700s calling someone a bedlamite was to call them, well, nuts, crackers, a couple of bubbles off of plumb…you know, plumb loco.

E.I. page 11

First woman to run for president When Joe Biden won the democratic party nomination for president, nobody was surprised. But his choice for running mate, Kamela Harris, did raise some eyebrows. She became the first woman of color and South Asian American to compete to be one heartbeat from the presidency. Victoria Claflin Woodhull was the first woman to run for president of the United States. With her sister, Tennessee, she founded Woodhull and Clafin’s Weekly, the first publication to publish an English translation of Karl Marx’s The Communist Manifesto, espousing free love, birth control for women, and equal rights. She and her sister were the first female stockbrokers on Wall Street but were barred from gaining a seat on the NY Stock Exchange— No women allowed! Undeterred, the sisters formed Woodhull, Claflin & Co. In 1870 Woodhull announced her candidacy for president. Her platform included women’s suffrage, abolition of the death penalty, and welfare for the poor. She formed the Equal Rights Party, which backed her run for the presidency in May, 1872. ABBA— tax evaders? Swedish band Abba is known for its gentle harmonies and also for the outrageous costumes they wear when they perform. The cost of clothes was tax deductible in Sweden if you could demonstrate that they were unsuitable for everyday wear. Smart ABBA. Must be true. Ripley sez. Little Nemo in Slumberland I’m having my dream where I’m wandering around in a Strange New World, but this time I’m not at all worried that I’m lost or might be late to give my keynote address at a conference on Baseball’s Opening Day. I feel wonderful. The campus is huge— must be the entire state of (I think I’m in) Tennessee and meeting and chatting up the nicest folks, all kids or teenagers. The dream ends before time to give my speech, but I”m sure it would have been a huge success. A very wonderful dream. But is anything more boring than someone telling all about this dream he had— even if it’s him telling himself? Light has yet to reach the backyard. I’m not sure if it’s Friday or Saturday. I get the newspapers from the driveway and check: EXTRA! EXTRA! IT’S FRIDAY! Now I’ll eat some breakfast.

“Two lonely people, divide by one, leaves nothing, nothing, none.” —-the Prophet Roger Miller

The youngest published author in the world. Dorothy Straight, born May 25, 1958, wrote and illustrated a book called How the World Began at 1962. It was published in 1964. According to Kirkus Review, she wrote the book in a single evening. Her thrilled parents sent it to Pantheon Books, which published it.

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In 1919 the Oscar Mayer meat-packing company purchased a small plant on the outskirts of Madison, WI. With housing scarce, the company built 50 affordable houses for workers and paid for the extension of the streetcar line out to the plant. By 1920 the Madison plant was the fifth-largest packing plant in the country. Madison became Oscar Mayer’s headquarters in 1957. For decades you might see one of the famous “Wieniemobiles” cruising Madison’s streets, and you could always smell those wienies for miles. But in 2017 Oscar Mayer left Madison for Chicago. Then-Madison Mayor Paul Soglin said the loss would have a an impact on the local economy of “hundreds of millions of dollars. Nearby Janesville, WI suffered a similar blow when GM closed its plant there in 2009. The Wienermobile still roams the highways elsewhere, of course, and these days the company fields 7,000 applications for the 12 positions as weinie driver. One of the job qualifications: must be able to parallel park a 27-foot-long hot dog. The recent pandemic forced the company to temporarily pull its fleet of six Wienermobiles off the road for the first time in 33 years, but they’re rolling again now. “[H]ow can you not smile when you see a giant hot dog on wheels rolling down the road,” Oscar Mayer senior experimental marketing manager Ed Roland asks. “That brightens people’s day.” “Hearing that the Wienermobile has an impact on people’s lives, in ways you wouldn’t even imagine, is really cool,” according to one of the fleet’s current drivers, Molly Swindall. —Picture and quotes from The New York Times, article by Bailey Berg, October 22, 2020.

SWIFT TAKE ON BOOKS JOHN SWIFT E.I.’s CR*

Macdonald has written a Wunderkammer Helen Macdonald, best known for her book H is for Hawk, is one of my favorite writers. She has written a Wunderkammer* here, a cabinet of curiosities called Vesper Flights (Grove Press, 2020), a collection of her essays on the natural world, most published elsewhere first. She’s a genius on the subject and a writer nonpareil. Let me whet your appetite with this quote from the book’s introduction: Macdonald defines Wunderkammern as “an object holding natural and artificial things together on shelves in close conjunction: pieces of coral; fossils; ethnographic artifacts; cloaks; miniature paintings; musical instruments; mirrors; preserved specimens of birds and fish; insects; rocks; feathers. The wonder these collections kindled came in part from the ways in which their disparate contents spoke to one another of the similarities and differences in form, their beauties and manifest obscurities.” John added this later: I think it would be better for me to humbly admit that Russo might be trying to say something I don’t hear. At least his characters seem believable, if disgusting. People you would not invite to dinner… I’m not saying that people like Russo’s characters don’t exist but are all Cape Codders unmitigated snobs? Are these people the survivors of the fittest? We face a bleak future if that is true. Another reason I don’t like dystopic novels.They’re not entertaining. * Coach’s note: John is moving down to Arizona for the winter. There may be a lapse between updates, but he’s still our CR (Chief Reviewer).

Oh I wish I were an Oscar Mayer wiener… driver

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FAMOUS LOOKALIKES*

* (The ones on the right are the famous ones)

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Finito— for now