PUNNING

I have several friends addicted to punning. For me, though I appreciate this ability, I have enough trouble using the tried and true construct of the English language without adding a new one.

However, if you are one of those grammatical geniuses who can fish out a pun on a moment's notice, pull up "Pun for the Ages" by Joseph Tartakovsky, a student at Fordham Law School, in The New York Times, March 28, OP-ED page. The writer says, "nothing vexes so much as a pun on a name. Yet even these can rise to wit if turned with finesse." He gives this example:

Jean Harlow the platinum-blond star of the 1930s, on being introduced to Lady Margot Asquith, mispronounced her given name to rhyme with "rot." "My dear, the 't' is silent," said Asquith "as in Harlow."

I have the feeling that Harlow did not let this "pun" get by her. I would have liked to hear her response.

A.I.G. SOMETHING MISSING?

About the time when markets here and around the world began to unravel,I began auditing the course "The History of Political Thought I: Justice, Virtue, and the Soul." The course will take us from the Greek Philosophers in the early 16 century to western political theory.

Presently we are discussing Cicero "On the Commonwealth and On the Laws." Our professor explains that it is Cicero's position that the ability to reason is a key element in determining what laws and actions will be established by a just society.

The problem I am having is with the devaluation of reason as we enter a new century, not A.I.G.'s bonuses. The value we have placed on material goods and sometimes human ability is so askew that to establish a reasonable worth of anything is damn near impossible.

Did those in the markets of housing, commerce, finance, fashion - it makes no difference - ever ask, what is the reason we do this? To produce a better made product or to simply construct another way to play the game, now you see it now you don't?

Forget A.I.G. and its bonuses. No, I would like to know what caused all of us to lose our ability to reason for so long a period of time.

Some of St. Louis' neighborhoods are graced by stately, well kept mansions, others by homes of modest means, and still other neighborhoods are filled with neglected, sometimes abandoned homes. My neighborhood holds many stately homes, but we are also bordered by homes and families that are impoverished or living in groups for disparate reasons.

As a result, I am fortunate enough to be presented with a colorful tableau of people and events whenever I go out.

My morning's walk today took me past homes of historic value and others newly built.
The sky was dull and overcast. The weather such that I still needed a winter jacket. As I spotted beds of daffodil, crocuses and ground cover begining to sprout small blue flowers, I realized that this was indeed the first day of Spring.

Robins hopped from lawn to lawn. Wild sparrows darted from branch to branch.
One home owner was sprinkling a newly seeded lawn. Two dogs lay patiently and lazily on the sidewalk awaiting their owner who had gone into a small coffee shop. Two neighbors rolled out of their group home in their wheelchairs as if to say, it's time to be out and about.

A few hours after I got back home, the wind died down. The sun cames out. Yes, in spite of the ocassional chill, Spring does seem to be on its way and all things seem possible.

More on Newspapers.

Shortly after calling attention to Clark Hoyt's remarks,"journalists see their job as reflecting the world as their reporting tells them it is" (NY Times 3-15-09), the Seattle Post-Intelligencer folded their print editions. It will be seen only on the Internet.

Then a few days later Nicholas D.Kristof wrote in his column (3-19-09)what can happen when we turn only to the Internet for news. He said "the danger is that self-selected 'news' acts as a narcotic lulling us into a self-confident stupor through which we will perceive in blacks and whites a world that typically unfolds in grays."

For me, the demise of so many newspapers bodes ill for all of us.

I'll Take Newspapers!

Clark Hoyt, eloquently spells out what a journalist's job is all about in his March 15Th New York Times column, "Bad News and More Bad News."

It was great fun to watch television during the election campaign for President described often as a "horse race" or where statistics were displayed, a "magic board." As I watched the reporting and listened to the coverage and the candidates they reminded me, for the most part, of a favorite saying of my grandmother, an imigrant, "Only in America."

But since the election, I have turned off the television. I find, with few exceptions, its theatrically staged news reports and its shallow but "authoritative" pundits often shrill and less than accurate.

I still look to my newspapers, even as their numbers grow smaller, for factual reporting as hard as the news is to read.

Euphuism and Peekaboo

No matter what we call it, which way we turn it, or which euphemism we use, we are feeling the downturn here as everywhere else. We see it in large and small ways.

A few blocks from me is one of St. Louis' oldest hardware stores. One can still buy nails by the pound there. Customers like me can make small purchases, but the bulk of the store's business is with large building and construction companies.

Last time when I was there I asked how business was? They told me their walk in trade was still good, but their building and construction business was down. They were holding their own, but had to cut employee salaries. Yet, they assured me they had been through so many ups and downs that they would get through this one too. They have been in their present location since the late 1800s.

The local newspaper carries stories of foreclosures, layoffs, and believe it or not, a ponzi scheme by a citizen of the Show Me State. My local library carries a sign telling patrons that they will no longer be able to pick up Income Tax Forms by edict of the Tax Office to conserve paper.

Even so, as I leave the library the sun shines brightly. I pass a small child being pushed in a stroller. When we pass each other, we play peekaboo. The peekaboo did the trick. It lifted my spirits and helped me remember, this too shall pass.

The Met Sans Popcorn

I know that some opera aficionados hold the Metropolitan Opera's live broadcasts in disdain. But for those of us not accorded the opportunity to attend performances in New York, it is still an exciting experience.

Donizetti's "Lucia di Lammermoor" was no less thrilling an experience for those of us attending in the St. Louis Art Museum's Auditorium where neither food nor drink distracted us from the performance a few weeks ago.

Because of the venue, yesterday I was able to introduce my granddaughter to Puccini's "Madama Butterfly." Though I am not sure how much taste for opera this may have created in her, I was excited to be able to share one of my favorites with her even as "Un bel di" once again released a torrent of tears on my part.

I understand the concern that much of the beauty of the music and singing can be lost when hearing the opera in a local movie house. But it is worth it to those of us who will leave the popcorn behind and for the moment be enraptured with the music though far from New York.

Morgenthau & Shabbat

When I read that Robert Morris Morgenthau said he would retire after 35 years as The United States Attorney for New York County, it brought back a host of memories. I did not know Morgenthau but I remember his name as a part of my childhood.

On Friday nights, it was customary for my parents to welcome family and friends to their table. Mother always prepared a large meal and my father would sing a traditional toast,"Kiddush," for the sabbath, "Shabbat."

These Friday night dinners always included traditional stories, sometimes philosophical discussion about the state of the world, and always politics. Some of this table talk was of little or no interest to the children, but I do remember the names of people being talked about. Eleanor and Franklin Roosevelt, Harry Truman,
Nixon, Dewey, Wallace, and Morgenthau was one such name who seemed to be revered, though I had no idea why or who this man was.

It was not until much later that I came to understand why this man created so much discussion around my parents table. And why now, in these troubled times, it is good to know that here is a public servant who serves with great integrity, the kind my parents spoke about at their Friday night table.