Leading my Impromptus today is the subject of Roe v. Wade, and the question of abortion generally. I begin, “Roe v. Wade was a bad decision, unmoored from the Constitution.” It was amazing to write “was”: was a bad decision. We have been writing “is” all of our lives, or most of our lives. I also discuss wokeness in the workplace, voting with one’s feet, etc. In the mix are two athletes: one famous (Shohei Ohtani) and one less so (Sydney McLaughlin, a hurdler). Both are must-sees.
I would like to publish some reader mail, in response to my column last Friday. That one was headed “The American experience, &c.” A Chicagoan writes,
I love to talk to taxi drivers. They are usually immigrants, and they often have great stories about their journey to America. For a few years, I had a regular guy I would call for early-morning trips to O’Hare. (I could count on him not to be late and liked to start his day at O’Hare with a nice fare already earned.) We got to know each other a bit. He was an Algerian who came to America by way of Paris, where he had been in business with his brother. (After-market auto parts, I think.) One day I asked him why, if his Algerian citizenship entitled him to remain permanently in France, he had come to the U.S. He turned to me with a look that said, “I thought you were smart. How can you ask such a dumb question?” And he said, “In France, we could never be French. But here, my son is an all-American boy.” Such pride in his voice and on his face. Almost moved me to tears. Still does.
In my column on Friday, I included a picture of a sweet little house in Ann Arbor, Mich. (my hometown). A reader writes,
Jay,
I enjoyed that little house in Ann Arbor. I just finished reading your column while sitting on my little screened-in porch, as the cardinals, the finches, and the chickadees flocked around the feeders just beyond the screen.
My wife and I are just shy of 70, and we had planned to take a number of hiking journeys in our retirement. But she was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s three years ago, and while she is still at home, our ambitions are very changed. Now it is enough to get her dressed and breakfasted, and enjoy some time on the porch in the morning air, and to attempt nothing much grander than keeping the birds content with sunflower seed, which is pretty grand itself, especially since four or five of those seeds have taken root below the feeder and are blossoming as I write. We learn to settle for less; and there are times, as the cliché has it, when less can be more.
Hard to follow that letter — but follow it I will, with a quick note on language. In a post, I said a little about how we talk in Michigan, or at least southeastern Michigan. We tend to apostrophe-ess things. What I mean is: We shop at Meijer’s, or Kroger’s, or Hudson’s. (Not sure whether Hudson’s still exists.) We work at Ford’s (or “out to Ford’s,” if you’re really down-home). And so on and so forth. A reader writes,
Hello, Mr. Nordlinger,
Yes, it’s the Buckeye mom again. . . . My first job was in Michigan, working at Ford’s. Seemed odd to me at the time, but that’s how locals perceived it. I always heard, “I work at Ford’s” — as though the company were not a huge corporation but simply Mr. Ford’s place. . . .
Another turn of phrase I never heard growing up in a steel town full of immigrants (most of us kids were first-generation), and which was omnipresent at Ford’s, was “ink pen.” Is there any other kind?
Again, thank you for Impromptus and the light you shine on freedom.
Ah, yes, “ink pen.” But we had so many southerners in Michigan — migrants — you mainly heard “ink pin.” “Can you get me a ink pin?” The soundtrack of my youth. I’m about to tear up . . . (Also, you had a “vanella shake,” and sometimes you even drank “melk.”)
Great thanks to all readers and correspondents. Again, for today’s Impromptus, go here.