Impromptus

‘Confederate Heritage Month,’ &c.

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Appomattox Court House in Virginia (visionsofmaine/iStock/Getty Images)
On the Civil War, Irving Berlin, Norman Podhoretz, Hugh Grant, Liz Cheney, the amazing reliever Pete Fairbanks, and more

In Mississippi, April is “Confederate Heritage Month.” The governor has just declared it so. To read an Associated Press article about this, go here. April is a month associated with the Civil War. I remember a book, from my youth: Across Five Aprils. It is a novel for young people, written by Irene Hunt, in 1964. I can just see it on the shelves of Pattengill Elementary, where I went.

About the Confederacy and the Civil War, there is a lot to say. It has been said in endless books. In all probability, the books will never stop. After Appomattox, the below image appeared. It captures my thinking and feeling. A lot of readers won’t like it — which is fine.

• The thing about allusions is, you either get them or you don’t. I’m sure there are hundreds of allusions I don’t get, in my reading. How would I know? But when you know — you know.

In Liberties, Celeste Marcus published an essay called “Our Liberalism.” Talking about her generation, she wrote,

The end of history ended before we arrived. We came of age when the storm clouds had again gathered. History comes for all of us and these years are rife with it.

Irving Berlin wrote “God Bless America” in 1918. Most people, or many, know the chorus, I’m sure: “God bless America, land that I love.” But many fewer must know the verse. I know it only because Marilyn Horne sang it. It begins, “While the storm clouds gather far across the sea, / Let us swear allegiance to a land that’s free.”

You wanna hear Horne? Here she is on May 11, 1988, in Carnegie Hall, in a concert to mark Irving Berlin’s hundredth birthday. (Though he was still with us, he did not attend, having retired from public life.)


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Two summers ago, I had a long talk with Marilyn Horne. Berlin’s favorite singer, she said, was Fred Astaire. That is, Astaire was his favorite singer of his own songs.

• Speaking of Carnegie Hall, I attended a concert there last week. Specifically, the concert was in Zankel Hall, which is the basement venue in the building known, generically, as “Carnegie Hall.” (This gets a little complicated. I could explain, but why take the time?) At intermission, a security official said, repeatedly, “Restrooms, up the stairs.” He was about 65, I would say — burly and bald. And a real New Yorker. His line came out, “Restrooms, up the stez.” I heard it over and over, as I was standing in the lobby, reading my phone.

And I thought of Norman Podhoretz. You know how this great writer got his start in English, so to speak? He was in kindergarten, in Brooklyn. A teacher asked him, “Where are you going?” Norman answered, “I goink op de stez.” That was what he heard at home. Immediately, the teacher placed him in a remedial-English class.

Upon which, he became Norman Podhoretz. (At least, he was on his way.)

• Norman P. went to Columbia University. (There was once an interview with Allen Ginsberg, titled “I Sing of Norman P.”) Here is a nugget from an article about the university in the New York Times last week:

A biography on Columbia’s website describes Dr. Abdou as “a North African-Egyptian Muslim anarchist interdisciplinary activist-scholar of Indigenous, Black, critical race and Islamic studies, as well as gender, sexuality, abolition and decolonization.”

A parodist has no chance.

• Hugh Grant, the actor, has settled a claim against the Sun, the British scandal sheet. For a news story about this, go here. I loved a sentence from Grant on Twitter, or “X”: “As is common with entirely innocent people, they are offering me an enormous sum of money to keep this matter out of court.”

• From the New York Times:

A Pulitzer Prize winner resigned from the board of the Gerald R. Ford Presidential Foundation on Tuesday, protesting what he said was the group’s snub of former Representative Liz Cheney for its highest honor out of fears that Donald J. Trump would retaliate if he returned to the presidency.

(For the rest of the article, go here.)

The resignee — is that the word? — was David Hume Kennerly, the photographer.

I loved this, from Liz Cheney. A lot of readers won’t — again, fine.

• Not very often do I recommend a science article. (Not very often do I read one.) Let me recommend one now: “An 11-Year-Old Girl’s Fossil Find Is the Largest Known Ocean Reptile.” The subheading reads, “When Ruby Reynolds and her father found a fossil on an English beach, they didn’t know it belonged to an 82-foot ichthyosaur that swam during the days of the dinosaurs.”

Interesting, informative, and charming.

• I have a new favorite baseball player. He is a reliever for the Tampa Bay Rays: Pete Fairbanks. He has given one of the greatest post-game interviews in sports history. It is practically mesmerizing. My man:

• “Meet the 7-year-old boy who is the only child in his school.” That is a heading from the AP. (Story here.) Mahir lives in the village of Petrovići, in Bosnia. A teacher has been hired, just for him. I love the care given to this boy. It would be nice if he had classmates. Even so . . .

(I knew a woman who was an only child — in an era when it was uncommon to be an only child. Later in life, people often said to her, “Oh, too bad. I’m so sorry.” She would answer, “No, I loved it!”)

• A few days ago — I can’t remember where — I saw an ad that startled me. The line was, “Arguably the most beautiful electric vehicle on the road today.” I can’t remember what the vehicle was. I’m not sure I took note of it. My apologies.

But I was amazed by the wording of the ad: “Arguably . . .” An ad typically says, “The Best of All Time, No Doubt!” The relative modesty of this one was — distinctive.

• This ad — in a subway car — I made sure to take a picture of:

• On the street was a distinctive car. Not “arguably the most beautiful electric vehicle on the road today.” But, as a line on the back of the car said, “A Salute to Veterans.” Here are the two sides:

• Earlier this month, I was in Arizona. (I included some photos in a column last Thursday.) Having lunch in a Mexican restaurant, I asked, “Do you have Coke or Pepsi?” The lady said, “We offer RC products.” Holy moly! Took me back . . .

• I met a fellow — a young Mexican American — named “Jean.” I asked, in so many words, “What’s with the French first name?” One of his great-grandfathers left France for Mexico. He was escaping religious persecution. His name was “Jean.” And, in honor of this ancestor, the young fellow I met . . .

Everyone has a story. Or a family story.

(Bill Buckley used to quote something: “Ninety-nine of every hundred people are interesting. And so is the hundredth, for he is the exception.”)

• I met an Egyptian American, a man of about 65. Before coming to America, he spent some years in Romania. We talked about Romania. I happened to mention that the women are pretty. “Yes,” he said, lighting up — “and easy!”

That was unexpected.

(I pass no judgment. I am merely quoting.)

• Back home, in Manhattan, I often go to a particular Chinese place. Have for 25 years. There are three or four women who run the joint. They never age, and they never sweeten up. They are irascible (let’s say). But I am rather fond of them, and I suspect — although this is a leap — they are of me, a little.

Recently, I heard one of them on the phone, taking a delivery order. “French fries? No, Chinese restaurant!” A few seconds later: “Barbecue sauce? No! Chinese restaurant! Sweet-and-sour, soy, hot mustard!”

Oh, I wish you could have heard her. Seen her. Should have been in a sit-com.

• If you will forgive a pun: “Allée! Allée! Allée!”

That was Central Park, springing. Thank you for joining me today, everyone. Catch you soon.

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