Good evening, 919 Gang. You see how it works? David Farmer
writes a piece about gear-shift levers and knobs. Bernie Hunt takes that topic
to England, and then others add their thoughts, and the string just keeps
growing. How about if you plant a seed?
ROBERT J. HAWKINS writes:
Last summer while in England for a wedding I made the
confounding, near-miraculous decision not to drink at the initial gathering of
the two families.
And if ever there was a time for drinking that would have
been it.
The
key reason I’d chosen not to drink was that we’d only arrived from Belize that
morning and the drive from Heathrow to Horsham had been harrowing. And there I
was, that night, in a tiny quaintly-named village (Puddlesworth? Ducknockers?
Chatalot?) full of thatched houses and narrow winding roads -- from which I was
actually expected to make our way back to our B&B in Arundel.
In
a car. In the dark. On the left.
It
had been 30 years since I’d driven in England and I did everything wrong -- got
confused in roundabouts, grabbed for the door handle instead of the gear knob,
turned on wiper blades instead of turn signals, drifted onto chatterstrips far
to the left, drove way too slowly.
Yes,
I was driving like an American.
In
fact that is what the policeman said: “You’re driving like an American.”
He’d
stopped us within blocks of our B&B, but I know that he’d been discretely
tailing us for quite some time. Well, as discrete as you can be in a canary
yellow car with black-and-white checker stripes and blue lights on top. Knowing
he was there made me all the more nervous.
And
clumsy.
He
was nice enough about it, chatting me up at close range until satisfied that my
breath yielded nothing worse that the smell of lemon water and duck pate.
“Well,
as you know sir, the objective is to get home safely. Isn’t it?”
“Yes,
sir.”
“Good then. Let’s see that you do that.”
“I can just go?”
“That’s
right. You’re almost there. Drive carefully.”
And I did. With a ridiculous number of "Thank
you!" trailing behind me in the night.
But
I still kept reaching for the doorknob when it came time to shift.
-------------------------------------------------
JANET LOWE
writes:
Preston
Turegano’s review of the Santa Fe Opera was quite impressive. I'm living mostly
full-time in Santa Fe now and am an opera docent. When I settled here it seemed
like a good opportunity to learn about opera. We get three weeks of training at
the beginning of each summer, and it's like a graduate seminar. While it is
true that opera goers are mostly lily white, the Santa Fe Opera has a school
outreach program and a Pueblo outreach program. Both are well-attended, but it
doesn't seem like the audience becomes big opera fans. Santa Fe draws opera
lovers from all over the world, so the audience does not represent the
community anyway. While it might seem that Santa Fe has turned Anglo, that's
only true downtown during tourist season. The culture here is still dominated
by Hispanics and Native Americans. Not a lot of African-Americans or Asians.
We're not an average American city, but the art, music, dance and theater are
wonderful.
PRESTON TUREGANO
writes:
Allow me to clarify: New York's Metropolitan Opera
translates its operas into English and other languages on small text machines
on the back of seats and facing a seated spectator. The Met's stage arch is too
high for above-stage translation projection. The Santa Fe Opera now uses the
Met's system, as do other opera houses around the world. The seated spectator
can turn off the screen if he or she wishes to do so. San Diego Opera uses the
above-stage system.
------------------------------------------------
RICK SMITH writes:
Don Bauder's reference to DeWitt Clinton got me off into a
favorite pursuit of mine, high school trivia.
DeWitt Clinton High in the Bronx has had literally hundreds
of grads who went on to fame. I knew about actor Burt Lancaster and Bill
McClelland (who?), the first high schooler to clear 7 feet in the high jump (at
the National AAU meet in San Diego in 1965). But, among many others, here are a
few more: Martin Balsam, Sugar Ray Robinson, Charlie Rangel, Ralph Lauren,
Richard Rodgers, James Baldwin, Paddy Chayefsky, and our old friend, Milton
Cross, whose voice as host of the Metropolitan Opera was heard on the radio in
our household every Saturday morning, to my mother's enjoyment, when we lived
in the Frontier Housing project on Adrian Street in the late 'forties.
Add unwelcome use of "Tom", as with Uncle.
---------------------------------------------------
JANET LOWE writes:
We
sometimes discuss journalism movies on this blog, so I recommend The End of
the Tour. Despite the controversy surrounding the film, I thought it was
well-done and the acting was excellent. While I don't claim to be in a league
with David Foster Wallace or David Lipsky, the Rolling Stone writer, it
was easy to identify with both. I suspect most members of this blog also would
understand the situation of both. Who among us hasn't peeked into a bathroom
cabinet, or the moral equivalent thereof? Who hasn't struggled with when and
how to ask the tough question that is likely to enrage the subject? Joan Cusack
absolutely nailed the "escort," or author's driver. My driver in
Washington, D.C. described herself as a "celebrity driver." She
wasn't a celeb, but she loved driving them. At the end of our time together she
informed me that it is customary for an author to give the driver a signed copy
of the book being promoted. The only copy I had was the one carried in case the
TV interviewer didn't have one to show on screen. Feeling like an ignoramus, I
gave it to her. Such is life.
----------------------------------------------------------
BOB ELLEDGE
writes:
Another
spell check comment: I spelled "didntl" today and speller said to
change to "didnlt." One online dictionary said there's no such word
and perhaps I meant “dirndl.”
------------------------------------------------
REBER: Welcome to September, and Happy
Birthday, Sept. 1, to Lew Little.
----------------------------------------------------
REBER: I thank Bob
Elledge for sharing this, but I hate what he shared. A newspaper, especially a
good one, has value, and people should be encouraged to recognize that. The
deep discounts are insulting.
BOB ELLEDGE
forwards:
$10 a year Sunday Edition Subscription - The San Diego
Union-Tribune | Groupon
BOB ELLEDGE
forwards:
Comma Queen | The Semicolon; or, Mastering the Giant Comma
| The New Yorker Video | CNE
BOB ELLEDGE
forwards:
One-Star
Reviews of National Parks
Why
did they make Death Valley so hot?
And
this gem:
P.O. Box 2239
Ramona, CA 92065
U.S.A.
