Archives for April 15, 2004

– Wednesday was a dark night, as we theater people say–no scheduled performance, nor did I improvise one. Instead, I wrote my Wall Street Journal column for Friday, took a nap, blogged, performed miscellaneous accumulated chores, then had dinner with an unexpected house guest who is currently asleep on my inflatable mattress. As a result, I consumed next to no art, save for a few pages of John Wayne: American read over lunch for relaxation.

– Now playing on iTunes: Dizzy Gillespie’s 1948 recording of “Manteca,” reissued on Dizzy Gillespie: Greatest Hits. I never tire of hearing Chano Pozo whack those congas.

That’s it for now–I plan to be in bed within the hour, but I’ll be posting a slew of fine links much later today.

I don’t have any, but my brother just e-mailed to tell me that he is now mayor pro tem (that is, vice-mayor) of Smalltown, U.S.A., the Missouri town where we grew up and where he still lives. That’s really something.

Don’t get me wrong–I’m proud of the course my own life has taken and wouldn’t erase a day of it–but seeing my brother’s name on the front page of our hometown paper means every bit as much to me as seeing A Terry Teachout Reader in the neighborhood bookstore. He is way cool.

The next time I go home for a visit, I plan to park my mother’s car in a no-parking zone. I have a friend at City Hall, you know.

“Mr. Chamberlain, with Lord Salisbury following steadily on behind, championed the cause of the Outlanders. On paper and for democratic purposes the case was overwhelming. But you can never persuade anyone by reasonable argument to give up his skin.”

Winston Churchill, My Early Life

I just ran across this sentence in Howell Raines’ Atlantic Monthly article about why he is God and the New York Times will never be the same without him:

The Times‘s image as a bastion of quality had become even more important as tabloid television, Britain’s declining newspaper values, and the unsourced ranting of Internet bloggers polluted the journalistic mainstream of the United States.

Perhaps they’ll carve it on his tombstone. Whoops–too late! Mistah Raines, he history…and we’re still here.