Commonplace Book Chapter 9

Raymond Chandler

This is the 9th and final installment from my collection of commonplace book entries. I started collecting the out takes from different media around 2002. Obituaries were always a source, as were utterances from my still favorite journalist, the now deceased Russell Baker, who will not be making any new pronouncements, but that doesn't mean I won't find something that's new to me. And if I do, it will get a blog posting for sure.

The blog postings have proved a far better medium for collecting these out takes. I can add photos, and can share thoughts with whomever is part of my small but select readership. Maybe even get comments, proving someone read what I wrote. The Blogspot platform collects some basic statistics, and I rarely get double digits reads beyond 20. 

When I tried to further expand who might read my racing postings through Twitter they suspended my Twitter account for a few days for Tweeting the same thing. Can you imagine? I get censored, but the bad actors can continue with fake news. Oh well, I don't make any money off of this.

I once had a an email from Walter Zinsser who commended me for just writing for the sake of writing. If you don't remember Mr. Zinsser, I add a link to the posting I wrote about him and his family business making the best stain cover product there is. Also shellac. I still have cans in the garage workshop. Mr. Zinsser was also a longtime journalist who passed away not all that long ago. I loved the comment.

The blog postings are now my way of riffing on things I read that hold a place in my mind. The only end to them will be will I'm unable to post them.

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Pete Gray, who became a major league outfielder despite the loss of his right arm in a childhood accident, appearing with the St. Louid Browns for a single season during World War ii, died Sunday at a nursing home in Sheatown, Pa.  He was 87.

Gray had 51 hits in 234 at-bats for the Browns, including six doubles and two triples.  He drove in 13 runs, scored 26 runs and stole 5 bases.  A high point came at Yankee Stadium, when he was cheered by a crowd of 36,000 as he took his spot in the outfield.

Gray was once asked how good he might have been if he had not lost an arm.

“Who knows?” he said. “Maybe I wouldn’t have done so well.  I probably wouldn’t have been as determined.”

--NYT Obituary, by Richard Goldstein, July 2, 2002

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When asked how she came to write mysteries, P.D. James has a ready answer.  As a child she wondered about Humpty Dumpty: “Did he fall or was he pushed?”

--NYT, Mel Gussow, January 10, 2004

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David Brinkley, the wry reporter and commentator whose NBC broadcasts with Chet Huntley from 1956 to 1970 helped to define and popularize television news in America, died on Wednesday night at his home in Houston.  He was 82.

Over the years, Mr. Brinkley’s commentaries remained consistently tart.  He often railed at what he saw as the incompetence of big government.  He came to think that Congress had dangerously isolated itself from the rest of the country.

John J. O’Connor, reviewing this phase of his career for The Times, called Mr. Brinkley “one of the more articulate and persuasive practitioners” of television news reporting.

“The only way to do news on television is not to be terrified of it,” Mr. Brinkley said.  “Most of the news isn’t very important.   In fact, very little of it is.”

—NYT, Obituary, by Richard Severo, June 13, 2003.

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“I’m old enough to know better, but too old to care.”

–Anonymous

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Every street in New York ends in a river.

–Opening line to William Wyler’s 1937 movie, Dead End.

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Everyone with hometown memories carries around a double vision of the place of origin: the way it used to be when it seemed endless and eternal, and the smaller, transitory way it seems later.  Despite logical evidence, that eternal home often looms as a place more glowing and alive way back then than it is now.

–Stephen Holden, NYT, lead to a review on a film retrospective, Where Manhattan Meets the Water, February 27, 2004.

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Born with the gift of laughter and the sense that the world was mad1, and that was his only patrimony. 

–Rafael Sabatini, Scaramouche [1921], ch. I

Inscribed over a door in the Hall of Graduate studies, Yale University.

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“The people who knocked these buildings down will hear all of us soon.”

–President George Bush, through a bullhorn, September 14, 2001, at the WTC site.

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We have not forgotten the victims of September 11th, the last phone calls, the cold murder of children, the searches in the rubble.  With those attacks, the terrorists and their supporters declared war on the United States.  And war is what they got.

–President George Bush, April 30, 2004, address to the nation, announcing the end of major combat operations in Iraq.

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Mrs. Grayle and I held our glasses.  Mrs. Grayle crossed her legs, a little carelessly.

She nodded her golden gleaming head.  “Yes.  You know there was something rather funny about that holdup.  They gave me back one of my rings, rather a nice one, too.”

“He told me that.”

“Then again I hardly ever wore the jade.  After all, it’s a museum piece, probably not many like it in the world, a very rare type pf jade.  Yet they snapped at it.  I wouldn’t expect them to think it had any value much, would you?”

“They’d know you wouldn’t wear it otherwise.  Who knew about its value?”

She thought.  It was nice to watch her thinking.  She still had her legs crossed, and still carelessly.

“All sorts of people, I suppose.”

“But they didn’t know you would be wearing it that night?  Who knew that?”

She shrugged her pale blue shoulders.  I tried to keep my eyes where they belonged.

–Farewell, My Lovely, Raymond Chandler

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Who Will Knock Matt Amodio Out?

He's still steamrolling his way through Jeopardy victories—"Matt Amodio, the Ph.D. student from New Haven Connecticut." (Read Yale.)

Even falling behind, hitting zero dollars after a flubbed all-in Daily Double bet, even once in a negative amount, Matt prevails just by knocking off the answers before his opponents can even shake the buzzer. There is no Vegas wagering on Matt since the shows are pre-taped and the results are known to others, but the Jeopardy game within the game can be played by the viewer in tying to figure out who will do the deed and send Matt back to the lecture hall.

Will it be a guy in a suit and a tie, a woman, white, of color, Asian? What will be their profession? Librarian, computer nerd, lawyer, teacher, writer, student, physician, administrative assistant? And how old will they be? Not many people even seem to be even 50 on the show. I guess the only trivia those over that age know is where did Ralph Kramden and his wife Alice live? Name the street.

The closest anyone has gotten lately has been a woman who charts thoroughbred races for Arlington Park. And that job is going to disappear since Arlington is closing.

Matt was also on the ropes earlier in the week when his opponent on the extreme right bet the right amount to exceed Matt's total if Matt answered wrong in Final Jeopardy. They of course had to answer right, and Matt had to answer wrong for the champion to be defeated.

They didn't answer right, but neither did Matt, making it moot since the middle contestant answered correctly, but with no money to threaten.

It was a doozie of a clue: 

The Dip used to kill characters in this 1988 film consisted of acetone, benzene & turpentine, ingredients of paint thinner.

Who thinks of this stuff? I'd love to know more about the people who create these clues. Are they part of a permanent staff? Freelance work is solicited? I didn't know the answer: "Who Framed Roger Rabbit"

Google tells us: As of 2012 Jeopardy employs nine writers and five researchers to create and assemble the categories and clues. Billy Wisse and Michele Loud, both longtime staff members, are the editorial producer and editorial supervisor respectively. The president's speech writing staff probably numbers fewer.

And last night, Matt was in the usual position he's in when Final Jeopardy rolls around. He had more than twice anyone else's total, so unless he was reckless, he would win.

The clue was another doozie, and interestingly enough, the middle and right contestant answered the same.

96 miles in total during its 3-decade existence, the most well-known part of this was about the same length as an Olympic Marathon.

Appian Way was offered twice, and of course was wrong. Matt nailed it with a $3,000 wager: The Berlin Wall. Mayim Bialik offered the fact that the length of the wall separating East and West Berlin was about 27 miles, just a little over the Olympic Marathon distance of 26.1 miles.

Game, set, match. See you tomorrow Matt, as he ends Wednesday in 3rd place with the most consecutive wins, 26, and holding a money total of $929, 401. Matt's headed for a $1 million, and then will likely start getting news coverage throughout the day from all the media outlets.

But who will be the one who defeats Matt and what will they look like? Will we feel it before the match? And how long will they last?

http://www.onofframp.blogspot.com

Billions 2021

The interrupted half of the current season of Billions has finally hit Showtime. The show's production schedule was thrown into hibernation due to the pandemic, but with vaccinations keeping the infection rate at bay, the show is back with all the characters and their Machiavellian maneuvers, principally of course the two chief protagonists, Chuck Rhoades Jr. and Bobby "Axe" Axelrod. The are each other's bête-noire, as are Axe and Mike Prince.

If it's true that Axe's character has its origins in the real life hedge fund impresario Steven A. Cohen, (SAC) then the Mets are in trouble because SAC has bought the Mets and is about to see a lot of money go into a team that's not going to be in the playoffs. We witness a pissed off Bobby nearly every episode. Imagine the wrath that's headed the Mets' way.

We're two episodes into the second half of what would have been last year's season, and the plot lines have returned to trying to make life for the enemy unbearable, and certainly less profitable.

Mike Prince, and Bobby Axe head two warring head funds that are determined to invoke destruction on each other just as Sam Malone Cheers' crowd was out to get Gary's Olde Town Tavern when they squared off playing softball.

Of course when Prince and Axe go at it, whole industries and their sectors are subject to going out of business just because these two guys carry an enmity toward each other.  Instead of bats and balls these two principals use the financial markets to inflict pain. The short play on Game Stop stock looks like  playing Candyland to these two.

Chuck Jr. is now clean shaven, dispensing the devilish look the goatee and mustache gave him. He of course is no less devilish.

Bobby Axelrod has acquired the right to run a bank, a cherished financial plum that will only serve to extend his venal influence over the markets. Chuck has been blind sided by this and is determined to thwart Axe's bank charter.

Chuck and his No. 2, Kate Sacker, take a trip to Wilmington, Delaware to meet the Delaware AG to get him to waylay Bobby's plans, since the bank is from a Delaware Charter.

Apparently the Delaware AG also doesn't work from the state capitol either—which any child of the 50s will tell you is Dover—because Chuck as we know, the Attorney General for New York State, works out of New York City, never setting foot in boring Albany, which of course hardly has the New York skyline other than the Empire Plaza, Governor Rockefeller's edifice complex built in the 70s.

And the Acela train that he and Sacker obviously took stops at Wilmington, not Dover. Sacker complains how quiet Chuck has been in the taxi ride from Penn Station as they returned from their day trip back to the NYC office, the only office we ever see Chuck in.

The Delaware AG was not helpful—yet. Chuck's dad needs a kidney transplant and is not eligible fast enough to get one before he croaks. His days are truly numbered. Chuck wants his lawyer Ira to write the eulogy Chuck will have to give.

As they banter about his we learn that Ira has beaten Chuck soundly in what surely is squash, since Ira's "Philadelphias" upended Chuck. 

It has to be squash because all male Ivy-leaguers play squash. And it turns out the Philadelphia is a winning shot perfected by members of the Philadelphia Squash Club. very Main Line.

Eventually the Delaware AG sees Chuck's wisdom in appointing a trustee to monitor Axe's bank dealings. And Chuck short lists his father's name (one name on the list) and achieves the sought after meddlesome oversight that he wants to inflict on Axe.

Chuck figures his father will be alive just long enough to disrupt Axe BIG time. something that might even keep him alive longer because he too hates Axe. Of course, the chess game is hardly over, because Axe achieves what Chuck has been unable to accomplish, set Chuck Sr. up with a kidney.

It's like Mickey Mantle's liver transplant all over again. The hard-charging Mick needs a liver, and one appears very quickly. Mick roars to the top of the list. The Mick doesn't survive too much longer, but he got one.

So the second episode of the new season ends with Chuck Sr. being wheeled in—as well as his donor that Axe has found—to get the kidney. The recovery will of course keep Sr. from acting as trustee, so of course Jr. is back to square one.

Teamwork. Chuck plots an alliance with Mike Prince to disrupt Axe's bank. And that's where we leave it, for now.

Along the way to this bold move by Axe, we have Prince gaining access to a freighter and its course in the North Atlantic that thwarts the expected delivery of frozen pizzas on their way from Italy that are going to arrive in the States and make Axe's buddies a fortune, because the pizzas, when defrosted and heated, are so good you can't tell they came from the grocer's freezer. The IPO is all set.

Rats. The pizza launch is in jeopardy. The timing will be thrown off and the window for success will close. But not with Wags on duty to guard Axe's flank. He gets the go-ahead to order a massive array of ovens to be set up in the states to produce the pies. Who needs a floundering freighter when you've got Wags?

The pies arrive in the supermarkets on time, and Wags just happens to be savoring a slice when Prince's No.2 goes shopping. Take that, you saboteur. Pies in the Whole Foods freezer. Courtesy of Axe.

Nico Tanner, the Jackson Pollock-like abstract painter who flings paint at the canvas rather than drips it from above, has been ganged up on by Wendy and Axe who believe his creative muse has sold out to uptown hot-to-trot very wealthy divorcees from the First Wives Club who will be his patron as long as they can seduce him. He's far too willing. He's gone commercial.

Tanner shows Axe and Wendy and destroys most of his work. Axe keeps one piece that he claims represents true emotion. We are not likely to see Tanner anymore as Wendy's love interest. The artistic temperament has spoken.

The title of the show almost makes it out of date. Trillions are new billions. A billion is a thousand millions, and a trillion is a thousand billions.

Just ask Congress. They might know.

http://www.onofframp.blogspot.com

The Reality of the Result

Yibir Winning Jockey Club Derby Invitational

There is that period of time, just before the reality of the result is revealed, when fanciful thoughts take hold. Perhaps it's when the last bet is made before the cards are turned over; maybe it's before the results of the Mega-Lottery have been broadcast; maybe it's before the machines are locked, the gates spring open, and the race is being run. There is no result until they cross the finish line. No winners yet. No losers either. 

And today again holds that period of time to fantasize. Saturday at Belmont, at what is a great day for racing. The track will be fast, the turf will be firm and the weather will be clear. Six of the 11 races are carded for the turf.  

I don't know how many Saturdays I've gone to Belmont, but lately it's not a lot. But the feeling stays the same. I'm going somewhere that's not work, not school, not even retirement in my living room and kitchen. It's an outing. And The Assembled will be there.

Each bet will be a fantasy that the wager will turn into a profit. But he biggest fantasy of the day is rooting for Step Dancer in the 10th race, a $1,000,000 Jockey Club Invitational for three-year-olds.

It is not a graded race, only a Black Type race, but it is for $1,000,000 and has attracted several European runners, notably Bolshoi Ballet, Tokyo Gold, Yibir and Soldier Rising. The trainer Aiden O'Brien is represented by Bolshoi Ballet and Charlie Appleby by Yibir. It is a field of seven of top notch turfers who have raced and won on both sides of the ocean.

And in amongst all the rock stars is Step Dancer, the colt co-owned by Bobby G's friend Richie Pressman. On paper, Step Dancer deserves the 20-1 morning line. The only graded race was as a two-year-old, the Pilgrim, where he finished fourth. He has won three races and over $200,000 but is in amongst the sharks.

Yet, Step Dancer will likely love the 1½ mile jaunt around Belmont, and will likely unleash a wicked kick. Who knows, there are only seven entrants, so traffic trouble shouldn't be an issue.

The jockey is the increasingly capable Dylan Davis, who has ridden Step Dancer to all his victories .Lifetime, the horse is 7/ 3 1 2, so only out of the money once. The trainer is the more than capable octogenarian Barclay Tagg, who sports a trainer stat of 33% for winning with a horse who has won their last race, as Step Dancer has, the restricted New York State Stallion Cab Calloway Stakes last out at Saratoga as the favorite. A strong kick brought the colt home.

The distance will be a new one for Step Dancer, but the breeding is War Dancer by War Front, from an English Channel mare Just Be Steppin'. So the name is well derived.

The 20-1 morning line is deserved since Step Dancer's races have not been against the quality of the competition signed on today. But Step Dancer's Byers figures are comparable to the other entrants, so his inclusion in the race is not a pie-in-the-sky whim. In fact, I don't know what criteria is used to see a horse get an invite to an Invitational, but Step Dancer must have done something right.

It is easy to see the fantasy. Cashing a bet on Step Dancer. Perhaps being in the right spot at he right time and getting Richie's attention and being in the winner's circle photo. Or, at least getting an invite to the paddock for the saddling. The colt is co-owned, and there was a passel of people in the photo when he won the Cab Calloway Stakes. But that was at Saratoga, and the same people might not make it to Belmont. Who knows? 

Belmont is not Saratoga. Aside from the physical size of the track, it lacks intimacy. Everything is far away. It also lacks money for infrastructure improvements and modifications. Although, there is evidence of some things on the way.

The parking lot has been paved. It no longer looks like something used for target practice for Navy missiles. There is evidence of some kind of construction going on the second floor Clubhouse. Huge boxes have been delivered.

The place is always clean. The floors are clean and free of litter. There were several annoyances however. The water fountain outside the men's room on the third floor is not fully installed; the bulbs, or LEDs were out on the main tote for the 9 horse, rendering odds of 4 (4-1) looking like 1 since the horizontal and diagonal lines weren't registering.

And most annoying was the near inaudibility of the tack announcer. This was not due to John Imbriale's fill-in, Chris Griffin from Parx, it was just a lousy sound system. You could barely hear anything. It was like being at Keeneland in those days when they had no track announcer. Imagine that one. Very retro.

All members of The Assembled are in good health, double and even triple vaccinated. Jose B. found us, despite thinking the third floor was the second floor. We had moved to the third floor and were calling him to tell him, but he was already there by mistake. Jose's mistakes usually pay off.

He was in good form holding a few bright neon markers, and was playing races at Churchill and even north of the border at Woodbine in Toronto. He had been there since 11:00, uncharacteristically early  for Jose, but I suspect was finding action on some simulcast feed.

From our vantage point in the third floor seats we chose, we could hear the broadcasters in their green "tree house" better than the track announcer.

Several betting machines were balky, and finicky about being fed valid vouchers. You had to seek alternate machines.

The Belmont Café on the first floor was the only outlet for food and drink. This doesn't bother me since when I'm at the races I'm not there to eat. But one of the Assembled, Bobby G., needs food, and humped around until he found the Café. Then all was well.

But, aside from missing creature comforts, the rest of the day went well enough, although a lack of picking winners was not due to anything NYRA was doing. Collectively, we each did okay, with Johnny D. hitting the last race on the card, the 11th, for a $4 win bet on Risk Profile that paid. $13.80.

The bet was made as the voucher was cashed after the 10th race and we were headed home. We didn't stay to view the 11th race. Dinner would be waiting at home. No reservations needed.

In the over 50 years of betting at the race track, the last card on the card is the race I've hit the most often. The payoff made me whole for the day.

Linda Rice had a training triple by winning the last race. Dylan Davis rode three winners, and Tom Morley, Maggie Wolfendale's trainer husband, had two winners, one of which was the upset win of Locally Owned in the marathon 1/5/8 mile race that saw Lone Rock handed a rare defeat. Maggie was jumping around like a kid at Christmas over that one.

Six of 11 races were on the turf, so how did Chad Brown fare? There is nothing worse than betting on one Chad Brown horse in a race and having the other Chad Brown horse win. But that is exactly what happened in the 3rd race when So Enchanting won, and Investment Income (my choice) wasn't a good return on investment.

Chad's prowess on the turf continued with being 1-2 in the 9th, the $700,000 Jockey Oaks Invitational for fillies that saw Chad's Shantisara finish ahead of my choice, Higher Truth, to create a Chad Brown exacta paying $39.20 for $2. Ouch.

But the reality of Step Dancer in the $1,000,000 feature was revealed. Before the race the story we heard from Bobby G. is that the racing secretary called Barclay Tagg and asked if he'd like to run Step Dancer in the race. There was no nominating, entry or starter fee, and it was a win-and-you're-in race for the Breeders' Cup Turf race in November at Delmar. Win-and-your-in is horse racing's version of hitting Lotto, because fees and travel expenses are taken care of. It's like winning a round on Wheel of Fortune.

The solicitation from the racing secretary explained my curiosity as to how Step Dancer even came to be invited to join a field dominated by Graded Stakes winners from Europe. Richie Pressman has come a long way in his 25+ years of owning a horse here and there, usually New York State Breds who are straining to break their maiden and then trying like hell to advance through the next condition. He's now in with the Goober Smoochers. 

(goober smoocher - (slang) a member of the elite, the rich and famous; a member of society who is well-known and always knows what's what and who's who and...)

One of my fantasies of getting in the paddock was achieved when word come to us that Richie was inviting us to join him for the saddling. We've been there before, and it's always a treat to mingle with the crowd that stirs the drink.

There was Maggie Wolfendale, now dressed for her ride on the horse she broadcasts from when the winner of a feature race is finished. Maggie catches up to the winning jockey and horse on the backstretch, as the outrider is leading them back to the winner's circle, and briefly interviews the jockey. It's a gimmick, but well executed.

And there was broadcaster Acacia Courtney with her iPad and broadcasting assistant ready to face the camera and report from the paddock. She is tall.

And the reality of the race? Step Dancer didn't win, and didn't even threaten. He was in a good position to swallow the field, but the chart caller had it right: he came up "empty," finishing 6th in a seven horse field, but only beaten by perhaps six lengths. Bolshoi Ballet, as the slight favorite, also came up "empty," finishing off the board in 4th.

Purse distribution in a million dollar race shakes out with rather generous consolation prizes. The 6th place finish was worth $30,000. And I've read that a race is as good as three workouts. Step Dancer has miles to go before retirement, and will be seen from again when the right race comes up and he qualifies to be in it. 

The period of time before the reality of the result is revealed will be renewed. Like hitting the last race on the card, it's never over till it's over.

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Septembers and the Affirming Flame

I can never flip the calendar to September and not think of three dates: September 1st, 11th and 16th. The first two dates are familiar to most, the third is personal to me and several others, but not across the world.

Every day is a milestone of some kind. September seems to hold three I pay attention to more than birthdays and other anniversaries. The first is on the 1st and reminds me of the start of WW II, or what would easily become WW II. I wasn't alive in 1939, but my parents were, and I start to imagine how the news of Hitler's invasion of Poland started to change their lives before they even knew what change was coming.

When the calendar hits September 1st I will forever start to recite lines from W.H. Auden's poem, September 1, 1939.

I've never tried to memorize the whole poem, but like the opening to Moby Dick, "I sit in one of the dives/On fifty-second Street," I can never forget the words.

I almost think I can tell which dive he was in, likely a narrow bar that you entered by stepping down a few shallow steps, passing through a second door that opened into a dark place that you could view the outside sidewalk from through a semi-cellar window. Shows up in lots of NYC movies. Those kind of places are pretty much gone now.

And the last line, "...Show an affirming flame." I used to refer to it when I needed some mental toughness to get through the workday and the effort it was taking to complete at least 30 years of employment so I could enjoy certain retirement benefits. (I did accomplish it, making it to 36 years.)

Of course Auden was reflecting on the invasion of Poland by Hitler. Hitler had already signaled his aggression by annexing the Sudetenland. Poland was the next lamb that was slaughtered.

The second is the 11th, the day I describe with black humor as the day Lower Manhattan became an airport; the Pentagon reported incoming, and a small town in Pennsylvania became the scene of on-board heroism. We are forever changed by that day. Try getting on an airplane if you don't believe me.

Twenty years. There's a lot that's part of my life now that wasn't here 20 years ago. The girls weren't yet married. The oldest had just graduated college; the younger one just in college. No grandchildren yet. The backyard didn't look as nice as it does now.

I was still working; now I'm retired 10 years. Certain health events hadn't yet happened, yet still ticking nicely, if not in some discomfort. The hair is whiter, and I don't run anymore. I wasn't yet married nearly 46 years, but I was married nearly 26 years.

Cosmo the cat hadn't yet become part of lives, entering in 2006; still purring, sleeping and eating like a cat does.

I once read a poem by Phyllis McGinley that pointed out how she had aged by pointing out how the things around her had aged. She was a favorite of Auden's.

I told my daughter Susan the other day I can fairly well remember every event that has transpired in the 20 years since 9/11. And certainly nearly every part of that day, even to the point of what sports jacket I was wearing and what I was thinking as the train entered the tunnel in Long Island City on my way in and the skyline disappeared.

I can remember the last thing on my computer screen before myself and my chair were pushed against the desk by the impact of the first plane hitting the building. We were on the 29th floor of Tower One, thankfully no higher. I was looking up someone who was using Oxycodone (I worked in fraud detection for BlueCross BlueShield.) in significant amounts and wondering how that scourge was still with us.

Twenty years later the Sackler family behind Purdue Pharma has made a settlement totaling $4.5 billion dollars for the damage they caused by their aggressive marketing efforts. Sort of like a humanitarian form of reparations that has still left them quite whole, and thousands of others quite dead.

Down the road no one is ever going to read any stories of the death of the last of the 9/11 survivors. There is no building manifest as there was a ship's manifest as to who was on the Titanic. The estimate is that 25,000 came out of the WTC towers alive, a hefty number considering what the place looked like when it collapsed and there were really no survivors once the steel frames gave in. Just DNA.

There is of course a list of who did perish, made even more poignant when you scan the names and read of an unborn baby and their mother not surviving. The named and unnamed.

And nineteen years. As for remembering everything since 2002 and the shootings at Empire BlueCross and BlueShield that left my manager and co-worker dead, and their assailant, a vice president, dead from suicide, nothing will dislodge the memory of that day. 9/11 is more like something I read about than experienced directly.

It's been a very eventful 20 years, and I suspect if at 72 I do not get to reminisce about another 20 years, I will get to do so for a portion, and who knows, maybe the full Monty.

Stay tuned.

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The dates on the stones let you measure the time
Of the lives that lived in between.
The bracketed years reveal to the current
The joys and the troubles they've seen.

On any given day a person is born
You can record the date of their birth.
And on any given day a person can die
And you can record that they've left this earth.

And the morning we made our dusty descent,
An accomplishment undiminished,
We learned of the others and their bracketed date,
And our own, that remained unfinished.

So it is incredible to believe the end can be met
At the hands of someone we knew.
He put an end to life, he put an end to himself,
But he didn't put an end to you.

Nineteen years. Still true.
No one ever dies
Who lives in hearts
Left behind.

These people left many things well begun.
And on 9/11 and 9/16, these people became memories.

http://www.onofframp.blogspot.com

He's Back and He's Blowing Them Down

The new season of Jeopardy has resumed on Monday, and with it Matt Amodio's winning streak continues. He has now won 20 consecutive matches and $678,801. He's third in overall money won, and fourth in consecutive games.  It can take a commercial break before one of his opponents even gets to utter a sound.

He of course immediately heads for the $1,000 questions, starts nailing them, sucking the money off the board. And if he lands on the Daily Double quickly goes all in with say $5,000, doubles it, and starts to wave goodbye to his opponents.  He rarely misses.

One of his Daily Double answers correctly identified Iceland and its volcanos as the leading source of the earth's spewed lava. Who knew, other than Matt and a few others who probably watch nature shows on their phones?

When I read the clue for Tuesday's Final Jeopardy question I said if he gets this one, he's a marvel. As if he hasn't already proved he's a Jeopardy contestant outlier.

Under the scary category of Scientific Entomology the clue went: Name two of the three men the dark matter armalcolite found in 1969 is named after.

Again, I missed the key part of the clue, 1969, and that armalcolite is a portmanteau for Neil Armstrong, Buss Aldrin and Michael Collins for what they brought back from the moon's surface. Silly me.

The woman on the right did get two of the names, Armstrong and Collins, and the poor guy in the middle, who put up the best opposition, drew a blank. Matt spun Armstrong and Aldrin out there for a modest wager, for once again he couldn't be caught unless he was reckless. He went into the final round with more money than two times his nearest rival. The cat bird seat.

AOL's banner page is awash with stories of Jeopardy fans mad that the disgraced Mike Richards is appearing as the host. But this in understandable given the taping schedule and that by the time the new season started, Mike hadn't yet met with he bad news that he wasn't wanted anymore.

How many episodes will there be before Mayim Bialik gets the spot as the temporary primary host? The better question will be will Matt still be there?

Don't bet against it.

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Adlai

Adlai is a first name I haven't heard or read about in a while. Of course growing up in the '50's I was well aware of Adlai Stevenson, the Democratic candidate for president in 1952 and 1956 against Ike. 'I Like Ike', Dwight Eisenhower's nickname. Adlai had no nickname, wasn't the Supreme Allied Commander, didn't help defeat the Germans, and therefore didn't win the two presidential elections.

I never realized the presidential candidate Adlai came from such a long line of Illinois politicians. I never realized he was Adlai Stevenson II. His son, Adlai Stevenson III, just passed away at 90, and was the subject of another informative obituary in the NYT by the peerless Robert McFadden, no doubt pre-written, and now updated by Jesus Jiménez.

McFadden crystalizes the Stevenson family when he tells us Adlai III came from a family "...with a bad case of hereditary politics." When we think of political dynasties we think Kennedys, or Bushes, but the Stevensons reach further back in history when you learn Adlai III's great-great grandfather was Jesse Fell, a patron of Abraham Lincoln.

I didn't know Adlai III took over for Senator Everett Dirksen, who passed away in office. Adlai was then elected to his own six-year term. Adlai III recognized his fate for public services when he said, "It was ordained at birth that I would go into a life of public service."

There were attempts at running for president for Adlai III, but they fell short. He had the education of an intellectual, like his father, who they called an egg head, which as a kid I remember him being called. Maybe that was his nickname.

And an intellectual life was his to the extent he went to numerous private schools, even abroad, and his parents, Adlai II and his mother Ellen spoke only French at the dinner table, and afterward "their father read aloud to the them [the three boys] from literary classics for an hour each evening." Talk about life with father.

Adlai II, aside form his presidential run was the U.N. Ambassador for the United States in the era when French was going to be the international language. Later, English won out.

But what of the name Adlai? Surely it's a maiden name from someone, no? When these somewhat unique first names pop up they are generally a mother's maiden name. and often these names get imbedded as middle names, like Nelson A. Rockefeller's first and middle name from his maternal grandfather, Nelson W. Aldrich.

The best unique first name I can remember is Edsel, the son of Henry Ford II, whose name derived from Henry Ford's only son Edsel. Online research tells us then the name means, "a male given name from Old English meaning "rich" and "hall." Certainly fit.

Unfortunately for Edsel, his name became attached to the make of a Ford car that was widely made fun of with his horse collar front, despite some nifty innovations like push button shifting. The word Edsel alone connotated failure.

Adlai III's grandfather, the first of the Adlais in the family, was Grover Cleveland's vice president from 1893-1897. Adlai was born in 1835, no doubt when someone had a Bible open. The name Adlai, when researched, is Hebrew in origin meaning, "God is just."

In Robert McFadden's obituary it is impossible to write of the son Adlai III without weaving in bits of the father, the presidential candidate, and the subject of a Pulitzer award winning photograph when Bill Gallagher snapped a photo of Adlai II sitting on a stage revealing a serious hole in his shoe.

McFadden writes of Adlai III, he "...could not replicate the charm of a presidential hopeful famously pictured with a hole in his shoe." 

The 1952 photo actually helped Adlai's campaign gain some traction in his run against Eisenhower. 

I remember holes in my own shoes like Adlai's. When my feet got wet it was time for a new pair.

The progression of Adlais in politics will have to wait through two generations that have no interest in the political scene. Adlai IV is a businessman and former media reporter in Chicago, and his son, Adlai V, born in 1994, is into computers.

But according to the research on then name Adlai, it is gender flexible. 

"Adlai as a boy's name (also used as a girl's name Adlai) is pronounced AD-lay. It is of Hebrew origin, and the meaning of Adlai is 'God is just.'"

Imagine a female Adlai entering Illinois politics as Adlai Stevenson VI. It's got to happen. After all, the family has a "bad case of hereditary politics."

http://www.onofframp.blogspot.com

See You Next Year

The end of a season of racing at Saratoga is not just the end of a meet. It is the end of horse racing summer memories for the year. We did get to go to Saratoga this year. No lockdown, so the streak of having gone in consecutive years starts again.

But at no other point in the year do I go to the races for five consecutive days, as I did this year. Of course it's a bit of a vacation, but not one most people would see as a vacation. Hey, some folks go on five day cruises. I make fun of them too.

When I think of it, or pull out an old program, I find it hard to believe I've been going there for so long. I won't be pulling out a program any longer. NYRA has jacked the price to $4.00 from $3.00 for a useless Pocket Program. If you buy or download the Daily Racing Form, the program numbers are in there as well. There is no need for a program.

A "free" Pocket Program downstate in May, given as part of the price gouging admission price with mandatory Ticketmaster fess that wound up costing us $20 to enter the increasingly neglected surroundings, at least contained a few lines of a past performance for each entrant. Not so upstate. Never has a few stapled sheets of paper been more worthless than this year.

Or maybe not completely worthless. I scooped up a program left by some patrons at the Fourstardave who left early (I can never understand that.) and leafed through it. All was familiar, and was there before, but for the first time I realized there was a "parlay" bet listed among the vast list of wagering types available. 

Coming from the era when the only "exotic" bet was a Daily Double followed a few years later in the early '70s by a few races that were exacta races, the sheer number of ways you can make wagers is astounding.

But there at the bottom of the list was "Parlay: Combine two or more races using win, place or show bets. All of your bets must be successful."

My dream multi-leg bet is possible? Make your own multi-leg wager? I've often thought of this, but I was stuck on a version of separate pools based on self-created multi-leg wagers created by the bettors. No pools here. A true parlay that of course means your proceeds from your first successful pick are plowed into your next pick...and so on for as many picks as you make—up to six apparently. You're own personal Pick-6, 4, 5, 3, or 2.

Okay, probably no life changing payout, but action that is spread across multi-legs for whatever amount you choose to start with. No $72 Pick-5 ticket suggested by Jonathon Kitchen or Paul Lo Duca that sees the $72 fly out the window when the rider is unseated at the gate like what happened yesterday to Jonathon's single pick in the 5th race. 

The gates popped open for the 5th Race and the favorite, Realm of Law, unseated Irad Ortiz, with Ortiz safely sliding off the horse and landing on his feet, like a cat–described by the chart writer as a "jogging dismount." Good-bye $72 ticket.

Jonathon was at least a gentleman about that outcome and expressed appropriate concern that Irad and the horse were all right. They were. But really, no faster way to lose $72 than to cobble together what you think is a winning 50¢ Pick-5 ticket comprising 144 permutations of selections, only to see it explode as soon as the gates open.

Can't wait to see how you play a parlay on the betting machines. Can I mix my bet types? Win on the first leg, place on the second leg, show on the third leg, etc? Start with $2 and see where I wind up? Believe me, a bust on a $2 bet is my kind of bust. Not $72.

There were many winners in Saratoga's 40-day 2021 meet. None more so than Chad Brown, who took the trainer's title, Steve Asmussen who won five Grade I races, and best of all, Louis Saez, who took the riding title away from the Ortiz cartel.

Personally, I bet on 49 of the 51 races when I was there for five days and lost $7. I got to eat at Hattie's again, never needing to read the menu. Just give me four pieces of fried chicken on a small plate with cranberry cole slaw and I've won again.

Saez won three races on opening day, and from then on never looked back. And as much as Saez's winning  the title is an accomplishment, there can be a huge amount of credit given to his agent, Kiran McLaughlin, a one-time top trainer turned jockey's agent who earns every bit of his 25% fee of the jockey's earning by placing him on live mounts–winning mounts. The best handicapper on the grounds is an agent whose jockey wins a title. 

The agent is the unseen part of the races. The agent trolls the trainers for contracting his rider to ride their mounts. Certainly trainers seek out agents and their jockeys, but there is always the agent's opinion to take the assignment. Certain trainers have go-to jockeys that they give so-called "first call" to, but for the most part, the game is an audition for trying to get the jockey on the the horse most likely to win. And picking that horse is the agent's job. If behind every successful man there is a woman, behind every successful jockey is a very good agent.

Asmussen had his own version of a Double. He set the record for most wins by a North American trainer, sailing past Don Baird's lifetime 9,445 wins. Asmussen races at several tracks at the same time, and has won as many at 600 races in a season, but breaking the record at Saratoga with the racing world watching had to be extra special.

Baird's wins came mostly at Mountaineer, a track in West Virginia (Yes Virginia, there is a track in West Virginia.) formerly known as Waterford Downs. For me, Mountaineer is forever in my memory when a member of the Assembled drove to Mountaineer to bet on a horse that was his last name, Bonilla. It seems Jose B. had been winning on Bonilla at different tracks, (and at large payouts) but when entered at Mountaineer, his Capital District OTB wasn't taking Mountaineer bets.

Jose resorted to his car and drove to Mountaineer, but arrived too late in the evening to make his bet. Construction on the roads leading to New Cumberland, West Virginia created unanticipated delays. He claims he would have made some money on Bonilla. if he had gotten his bets down.

But the trip wasn't wasted. He drove to Virginia to see his sister. A horse player always finds a way to make lemonade from lemons.

So we say good-bye to Saratoga for 2021. We'll catch some races downstate in September and October, starting on September 18th when Bobby G's friend, Richie Pressman, sends out Step Dancer, trained by Barclay Tagg in a $1 million race, the Jockey Club Derby, a Breeders' Cup "win and you're in" race, a 1½ mile turf race for 3-year-olds. The Assembled will be assembled.

The Jockey Club Derby is a new race to me. NYRA, in their lopsided wisdom, has stripped Belmont of some Fall Classics, like the Jockey Club Gold Cup and the Flower Bowl and put them on Saratoga's schedule this past weekend.

NYRA a few years ago embarked on a stakes schedule that lumped several stakes on the same day at Saratoga, hopefully making the racing very attractive for trainers as well and bettors. It's worked, since Saratoga's handle this year set a record, but it does cannibalize some stakes from Belmont. Belmont is going to be known now as the home of the Islanders hockey team when the attached UBS arena opens this year.

Since Step Dancer's last race was a win as the favorite in the restricted Cab Calloway Stakes (restricted to offspring of New York Bred sires) you have to fully admit the horse is entering the very deep end of the pool. A $1 million turf race has to attract a contingent form Europe, and I'm sure the jockey Ryan Moore and one or two trainers named O'Brien will be there, but hey, as they say, the race is run on the track, not paper.

But Step Dancer is on my Watch List and is working out quite nicely. An unlikely win, or even an in-the -money placing will be heaven sent. I'm looking forward to the bets I might make. There is never a time a horseplayer doesn't look ahead.

Will Joe Drape, who I met at Fourstardave, file a story labelled "Post Card from Belmont." Unlikely. We'll probably not even see his byline from the place. Racing enters the journalistic version of The Twilight Zone until the Breeders' Cup in November, or when Bob Baffert gets caught again.

Forty days of Saratoga 2021 produced nearly 40 days of rain. More than 40 races came off the turf. The year is going to come when my streak of going to Saratoga is broken because my own streak of living will be broken. 

But it hasn't happened yet.

http://www.onofframp.blogspot.com

My Cousin's Town

I did a posting not that long ago about the names of the widespread places that pop up on my landline for robo calls. Having never been to MS—Mississippi—I can safely let the call ring through and not be afraid I'm avoiding anyone I know. Annoyingly, the ignored call rings often enough that it registers as a "message" on my phone, and gives me the blinking light. This then involves retrieving the message to clear the cache, No one ever talks, just several seconds of silence, then a disconnect. Nice not talking to you too.

The other day a call came through from a new place, Angelica, New York. Pleasant sounding name. Living in New York State my entire life I'm well aware there are plenty of places with names I've never heard of. 

When my cardiologist had reason to check his cell phone the other day, I told him how my cell phone is usually never on, but that I do get robo calls on my landline. He told me of a cell phone call he got from someone at a heart catheter unit in Philadelphia that was trying to reach him at 2 A.M.

Not a true robo call, but more a wrong number. Ironic, because he does do heart catheterizations, but not in Philadelphia.

And since something always reminds me of something, I told him of being at a conference and there was a doctor from Chicago, an obstetrician, who told the story of a woman calling him in the middle of the night and telling him she was having contractions. It was time.

The problem was the woman wasn't his patient. She wasn't even in his area. It was completely out of the blue. It wasn't him she wanted, although she was certainly in need of the service he provides.

I teased him that it proved there are too many doctors in the United States if the wrong number can reach the right specialty. He did laugh.

I was tempted to take the call and harass the Angelica caller with the information that my cousin's name is Angelica, but that now she's retired and lives in Greece. 

I passed on the idea, knowing full well that whoever is making the call is likely nowhere near the real Angelica, New York, but in some call center boiler room that has its calls routed through an Angelica exchange

But where is Angelica New York? The state has 57 counties, some with great sounding names like Wyoming, Cattaraugus and Onondaga. Lots of American Indian names. I often think that these farming communities can't possibly have their own district attorneys, can they? They must combine jurisdictions.

Of course Wikipedia to the rescue:

Angelica [A Town Where History Lives] is a town in the middle of Allegany County, New York, hard by the Pennsylvania border in the southwestern part of the state. The population was 1,403 at the 2010 census. The town's name is from Angelica Schulyer Church, Philip Schuyler's daughter, Alexander Hamilton's sister-in-law, and the wife of John Barker Church. The town was named by Philip Schuyler Church, who was one of the original settlers of the area, and the son of Angelica and John Barker Church. The village of Angelica is located within this town.

So the town was named after a mom. I have no idea how my cousin got the name Angelica. I wonder if in the musical 'Hamilton' there is an Angelica character.

This is great stuff. I hope they call back and we can talk.

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Nanci Griffith

I'm not sure I'm ever going to get used to reading about people I've known and followed who are younger than me who have passed away. I know life is not completely linear, with the oldest dying first, but it's still a shock when I read of someone who was 68 to my 72 who has passed away. 

One of my favorite recording artists was Nanci Griffith, the delicate, sweet-sounding singer from Southwest Texas, Sequin, who wrote nearly everything she sang. Her songs became bigger hits for others than herself. I never saw her perform, but she was vastly underrated.

As I did with anyone whose music I liked, I would occasionally search the sites to see if they released anything new. Nanci seemed to be stuck on the album 'Intersection,' which I didn't realize until I read the obit was her last album, released in 2012. Nine years, just doesn't seem that long ago.

She was a prolific recording artist, and produced 18 albums, some retreads, but mostly new material. My guess is she was extremely popular in Ireland and England, with a cherished track on a Chieftains album with a variety of other artists.

The woman she sang about in 'Ford Fairlane' was a singer who not that long ago passed away herself. As always, reading obits is informative.

Nanci's song 'Love at the Five and Dime' is introduced by her story of stopping the car and heading into a Woolworth's in London is a treasure. "Woolworth stores everywhere have the same smell; chewing gum and popcorn rubbed around on the bottom of a leather soled shoe."

If you're old enough to remember Woolworth stores you know she was right. I can still smell the Woolworth's in Flushing on the corner of Main Street and Roosevelt Avenue that we walked through after school in the '60s. There was a huge popcorn machine in the corner and basically its smell carried throughout the whole store. You thought you were at a carnival. I never saw anyone buy popcorn there, but it was continually being made.

And stopping into Woolworth's to buy some "unnecessary plastic objects" has the complete ring of truth. I worked with a fellow who once told me that the shortcut we all took through the Woolworth's store on Third Avenue between 41st and 42nd Streets to reach the subway on 42nd Street was sometimes not worth taking when you got stuck behind a lady who was buying "a ceramic dog."

And of course he was right. The aisles were narrow, and the shortcut no longer created an advantage to getting home when you had the bad luck to be blocked by such a shopper. In fact, Woolworth management got so tired of the traffic walking briskly through the store that they would lock the 41st Street door around our quitting time. You had to use the sidewalk.

Nanci also added a pitch perfect guitar rendition of a "lift" or elevator bell in a Woolworth Store. It was the sound of all elevator bells as the doors closed. There isn't a Woolworth Store I can think of that doesn't appear in some phase of my life.

As I again browsed through what the music sites displayed I came across an album I didn't have, 'Dust Bowl Symphony,' a collection of Nanci's songs, most familiar, some new, recorded with the London Symphony Orchestra and her Blue Moon Orchestra in 1999, her 16th studio album.

Reading Nanci's liner notes she tells of the artist whose work appears as the cover, Susannah Clark, certainly an artistic rendition of what the Dust Bowl weather was like. Nanci of course sang several songs that alluded to the Dust Bowl and the Depression, no doubt from stories from her relatives, like "my great-aunt Nettie Mae."

The titles on the album are familiar, the arrangements are not, given the lushness added by the London Symphony Orchestra. There are cellos, flutes, oboes, bassoons, and of course violins. The cello alone will make you cry.

Interesting in the obit was mention of her touring with the surviving members of Buddy Holly band, the Crickets. She includes a song written by Buddy and Jerry Alison, 'Tell Me How,' a sure-fire Crickets arrangement with harmony vocals by another Cricket, Sonny Curtis. Her liner notes also reveal something I didn't know: Buddy Holly was born Charles Hardin. How's that for a 'Jeopardy' clue someday?

In a certain way, there is no album after 'Intersection.' But there is a new album for your ears when you find one you didn't have. 

Nanci dedicates her 'Dust Bowl Symphony' album to the "Memories of Townes Van Zandt, Bob Claypool, Kate Wolf, Roy Husky, Jr. and Buddy Holly."

And now there will those who dedicate their albums to her. 

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