Easy for Someone to Say

You'd have to just be waking up from a long nap to suddenly hear that a volcano in 2010 is causing a bit of world-wide havoc with air travel.

I was at a Doo-Wop concert last night and one of the singers was waxing a bit nostalgic about things in the past. That's the whole point of going. But this fellow seemed to be missing something I didn't understand. He asked, "How did we ever get hooked on phonics?" There wasn't much reaction, because frankly, I don't think anyone knew what the hell he was talking about. Anyway, I guess it sounded like there was a simpler time when we weren't hooked on phonics. (Personally, I think we're hooked on talking heads and opinions, but I'll need my own act to advance that observation. And I can't sing.)

Anyway, because of the volcano that's erupting in Iceland we're once again getting news from that frost-bitten speck near the Arctic Circle.

Bobby Fischer's chess match with Boris Spassky in 1972 brought the place into world-wide consciousness, and a good number of us learned how to pronounce Reykjavik, the nation's capital and site of the match. Many years later Bobby Fischer's self-imposed exile in Reykjavik and his death there, along with the country's monetary collapse put the place back in the news. Now it's volcanic ash, and what it can do to jet engines.

Along with the volcano news we're struggling to learn how to pronounce the name of the town the volcano is in. It's not even easy to spell, let along pronounce, even with the aid of phonetic spelling. The name makes Icelanders seem like they're terrible at Scrabble and use the bottom of eye charts to create place names.

Hooked on phonics? If any of us were the phonetic spelling 'ay-yah-FYAH'-plah-yer-kuh-duhl' for Eyjafjallajokull should seem like trying to say 'cat.'

There are many European hockey players in the NHL, and ever since Team Canada vs. the Russians in 1972 I've tried and gotten better at pronouncing Russian, and now other Slavic names. I work my way through the letters, and usually emerge with near-correct pronunciation.

But if someone from Iceland named 'Eyjafjallalokull' were to make the NHL the lettering would start just about the left elbow, go across the shoulders, and end just above the right elbow.

Announcers would also likely hope he never touched the puck. They'd never have to try and say his name then.

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Tesco Hardware

In 1991 when we were still living in Flushing, the local hardware store handed out breast pocket weekly planners in celebration of their 25th anniversary: 1966-1991. I remember when the Tesco family bought the hardware store from the Nelsons, who bought the store from the Herzog's. Saturday was always a great day because it was of course the first of two days off from school, as well as the day I got to go to the hardware store with my father to bring home benzene, paint, or something that was filled up from a tank in the back. Or a bag of nails. Loose nails in tin bins; 6d, 8d, 10d, etc.

We no longer live in Flushing and Tesco hardware is gone too. The family is still around, but no longer trying to figure out the translation to whatever it was people were describing to them that they needed.

I still have the weekly planner, as much for the sentimental value as for the often valuable quotes that are part of its layout at the top of every other page. Some quotes are pedestrian, but interesting because of who they're from who is still around.

Diane Sawyer: "I'm always fascinated by the way memory diffuses fact." Gee. Wow. Diane, you're deep.

Others are worthy material for Bartlett's, and might actually be in later editions. Two of them I've remembered all these years and am somewhat guided by, no different than if they were passages from the Bible.

Reverend Hesburgh: "The most important thing a father can do for his children is to love their mother." Reverend Hesburgh was president of Notre Dame at the time, and is still around. I recently saw something on an Op-Ed page he was weighing in on.

And certainly on the playful side, one of my absolute favorites is from Mae West: "Too much of a good thing is wonderful."

So when someone we know remarked that they are "...barely keeping my head above water with librarians." I was able to quickly remind them of Ms. West's sentiments.

Of course, if anyone can remember anything about Ms. West, or chooses to look it up, they will easily conclude that Mae was not talking about checking books out of buildings, but was rather more occupied in thought with checking something else out and enjoying it.

No matter. The sentiment fits, and that's all that matters. Which of course goes to show you that quotes can be like liquids: they assume the shape of their container.

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Hear Ye! Hear Ye!

I have to say I'm a little rusty on everything that's going on in the '"Wizard of Oz." I didn't realize one of the Munchkins was a coroner who pronounces the Wicked Witch dead as part of his duties.

It turns out that the actor who played the coroner has just passed away, and Margalit Fox in Saturday's NYT starts his obituary off in a highly unique fashion. She leads with the announcement for which he became famous, and remained so for 70 years.

As coroner, I must aver
I thoroughly examined her.
And she’s not only merely dead,
She’s really most sincerely dead.

Meinhardt Raabe, who has now passed away at 94, announced this event with great fanfare when he was 23 in the 1939 movie classic the Wizard of Oz. And while I may not have remembered he was a medical examiner, I do remember the song that followed, "Ding Dong the Witch is Dead."

Several times in my work career at a major insurance company I remember paraphrasing that ditty when a vexing female management member shuffled off for another position outside the company. They didn't have to go all the way and die to deserve the ditty, just moving on was good enough.

Ms. Fox points out in the obituary that Meinhardt was one of the few Munchkins who had a speaking role. He certainly made the most of what God gave him, excelling in fields that one wouldn't expect.

There was one story from the movie that I remember hearing that told of the time there was an extended break in the shooting of a Munchkin scene. To kill time, several, or all of the Munchkins took to having a few belts of their favorite libation while waiting to resume shooting. Someone said that you really haven't seen anything until you see a set full of 100 Munchkins stewed to the gills trying to do the next take.

Ms. Fox doesn't try and explain the difference between dwarf and midget. We basically know it means they are people who remain short into adulthood.

It wasn't until I moved into a Levitt home sub-division umpteen years ago that I saw "dwarf" applied in a symbolic fashion. All the streets in our area start with the letter D. We are in the D section. There are people somewhere who are in a W section, but they're not really neighbors.

Anyway, using streets with a D starts to exhaust the possibilities within the English language. We have streets named Deep, Dell, Disc, Dock, Deer, Daffodil, Downhill, Dahlia, Duck Pond Drive East, North and South, and finally, Dwarf.

Dwarf Lane is very short. It only has one house on it.

Honest.

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A Day at the Races

Money earned is nice.
But money won
Is twice as nice.

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The Last Word

Obituaries sometimes end with a zinger, inserted by the writer to throw a splash of irony at the deceased. They also sometimes end with a quote from the deceased that is meant to sum up their life, their philosophy, or just plain memorialize something memorable they uttered. The application for Bartlett's Familiar Quotations.

Published obituaries are not written by the deceased. But sometimes the living express themselves as if they were already in the past tense.

Norman Mailer's widow, his sixth wife, Norris Church Mailer has just had her memoirs published, A Ticket to the Circus. The book review in today's NYT by Dwight Garner recounts some of the events described in the book. The book is well titled.

The reviewer closes the review with the observation that Ms. Mailer has survived her own health problems, and writes, toward the end of her memoir, "If I go tomorrow, I will still be ahead."

Anyone married to Norman Mailer for 27 years who managed to outlive him--even if she was much younger they he was when they were married--has certainly earned whatever renewals they've been granted. They should probably get a few more.

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Letters in the Attic

The still-at-home offspring has turned into a triathlete. This leaves the counter and drain board with several types of empty bottles, each covered by their own recycling regulation.

Since New York state has recently expanded its definition of what a "returnable" is, different water products are now under the 5 cent bottle bill. When the recycling effort effort started years ago it was only drinks that had carbonation that were defined as refundable. This notably left Yogi Berra's Yoo-Hoo off the recycling list. It's a chocolate flavored drink and not carbonated. It never made any grocery list in our house.

I'm old enough to remember that in the 50s there was a two cent deposit on 12 ounce soda and beer. Bigger bottles of Coke (family size) were tagged at 5 cents for some reason. As kids, it was rare when someone excavated a 5 cent empty coke bottle from the trash at the school yard. Whoever achieved finding one of those was right up there with getting a decent Yankee in their bubble gum package.

I try and comply with local laws. This even extends to recycling. So when I'm confronted with the variety of what's left to take to the garage or the side of the house I have to read the labels for some of the products.

I was surprised to learn that Gatorade Perform, an Electrolytes + Carbs [21g] concoction (Rain Berry, natural flavor) does not have a NY return value. It does however have a return value in 'CA CRV ME, HI 5 cents'. Okay, that one's for the side of the house, but where the hell is CRV? It's not one of the 50 states, they all only use two initials these days. (When they didn't is another story.)

The Internet is the great leveler these days. And http://www.acronymfinder.com/ is a great site for learning what ACH stands for on your bank statements and what CRV might mean.

Twenty-two possibilities are first painted on the screen. Nothing really to do with geography, but one is Crew Return Vehicle (NASA). CRV, typical NASA abbreviation for something we would call the Space Shuttle. But then again, CRV is probably better than SS. Too many bad associations with that one.

So, the space shuttle has a bottle return policy? Alert the media. I never thought of the space shuttle as being a geographic entity. It makes me wonder if the Vatican has a return policy on wine bottles.

It can't be. Wally Schirra umpteen years ago became a sponsor for Tang, the powdered orange drink that the "astronauts use." So, Gatorade associated with the space program is not too much of a stretch, but how do you take the bottle back to the CRV? You'd definitely need a pass for that.

At the bottom the Acronymfinder page is the link that there are 75 more definitions stored "in the attic." More like it.

Got closer, and slightly more plausible. 'California Refund Value.' But it already says CA for California, so why the CRV? You can take it to a pawn shop?

When I explained all this to my friend who comes over on Saturday mornings before heading to OTB he pointed out that the Gatorade bottle is oddly punctuated. The only comma is after the ME, which of course means Maine. So, why does it go CA CRV ME, HI?

He's very good at spotting these things because he was once in journalism. It also helps him understand the absolute odd symbols they use in Past Performances when you're trying to handicap races. Knowing that the last race was over an inner track surface and today's is on the outer track surface can mean cashing or tearing up tickets. Knowledge is a great thing.

And knowing whether I go to the garage or the side of the house is helpful too.

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Daphne Park

Today's obituary in the WSJ on Daphne Park has to be one of the worst I've ever read.

I don't know if this is because Rupert Murdoch and his British brain trust are concentrating so hard at keeping stories short or not, but today's is fairly bad. The obituary is not bylined and is reprinted from The Times of London. We don't really know if it is reprinted in its entirety or not, but it is only six paragraphs, no jumps.

It starts off promising enough, telling us Daphne lived to be 88 and was regarded as an intelligence officer legend. The piece offers that she avoided execution on several occasions by quick thinking. A few biographical facts are sprinkled in but that is basically it.

It does try and impress us with how good she was. The piece closes with this sentence:

She once escaped death after being seized by soldiers who claimed that a tape in her handbag was a smuggled recording of Patrice Lumumba, one of the Congo's new leaders, who was in jail, calling on his people to rise up.

The obituary is so short and inconclusive that it begs you to create your own ending. So I have.

Nothing more about Ms. Park is known because she was such a good intelligence officer and could keep a secret so well that no one could ever find out anything more to write about her.

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