My Impromptus today is headed “‘Warts and all,’ &c.” Before I continue, let me publish some reader mail, already. A reader writes,
Curious why your column titles always use “&c.” instead of “etc.” or “et cet.” I assume it’s an older typographic shorthand that simply fell out of use.
Well, I myself am kind of a shorthand that simply fell out of use.
Anyway, my column today begins with a controversy over tours at Monticello. It continues with the term “Latinx,” Jordan Peterson, our space telescopes, my “ancestral Dairy Queen,” as I call it (near the corner of Packard and Stadium in Ann Arbor) — a slew of items.
Over my column is a portrait of Jefferson by Rembrandt Peale. He had an artist father who named his other sons Raphaelle, Rubens, and Titian. Rembrandt Peale himself named his only son Michael Angelo.
Goodness.
When it comes to tours of Monticello — when it comes to the presentation of history generally — I think of an expression: “warts and all.” That’s the way it ought to be done. According to legend, Cromwell said this to his portraitist, Sir Peter Lely: He wanted it done “warts and all.”
Our Philip Klein has shared with me a passage from Shakespeare — from Othello’s Farewell Speech: “Speak of me as I am; nothing extenuate, / Nor set down aught in malice . . .”
In a column earlier this week, I offered some photos from Saline, Mich., a little town just south of Ann Arbor. Saline decorates its downtown with banners showing local men (I’m sure there will be women to come) who have served in our armed forces. I received several notes on this, suggesting that this is a practice in many Michigan towns. Perhaps in other states as well.
A reader writes,
Hello! We have the military banners in downtown Lapeer, too, and everyone loves them. I think there’s a waiting list because the spots are limited. Thanks for highlighting these.
My dad and his three brothers all served. His much older brothers, Melvin and Frank, served in WWII. Dad met Mom at Ramstein AFB (USAFE), and they have lived in Oxford [a village near Detroit] since 1961 and in the same Victorian house on Dennison Street since 1965.
Such an American story: A Tennessee farm boy and a Georgia farm girl meet in Germany during the Cold War, and they settle in Michigan, where Dad worked for GM Truck & Coach (Plant #2) in Pontiac for 41 years. Started on the line, retired as an executive.
Marvelous.
In that same column earlier this week, I quoted a common Michigan expression — unique to the state, I think: “Geez oh Pete!” A day or two earlier, I had heard a TSA agent at Detroit Metro exclaim it. A reader writes to say, “That’s No. 8.” He means: It is No. 8 in this article headed “The 12 Strangest Sayings in America.” Very interesting list.
Let’s end with a little golf — the British Open starts tomorrow, after all. A reader writes,
Jay,
. . . I enjoyed your discussion on Q&A with Luke Kerr-Dineen a while back [here]. That includes the part about equipment. I just read Jack Nicklaus’s book Golf My Way, and one thing really struck me about how equipment has changed. Jack gave the distances for his clubs — how far he hit each one. I was astonished that, except for the driver, Jack’s distances were the same as mine are now. As a 15-handicap 62-year-old, I hit my 7-iron the same distance as Jack Nicklaus did in his prime (and I assure you it is not thanks to superior technique or conditioning).
One thing I found funny in the book was Jack’s preparation for a tournament round, compared with what the fellas are doing today. Here’s Jack: Stretching, a couple of minutes. Range time: Hit every other club a few times to get the “feels.” Putting: a few lags for distance, and five to ten minutes on makeable putts (again, to get the feels).
The guys today start their routines four hours before tee time!
Yup. I always started mine about four seconds before. (See how far it got me?)