How many retired English professors does it take to change a lightbulb?

One, sort of. I am not completely hopeless.

The problem: the dome/globe hiding the dead bulb would not budge.

Steps taken:

~ Fetch ladder from garage. Climb.

~ Attempt to loosen dome by hand. Grip tightly and twist. Repeat.

~ Attempt to loosen dome by hand. Grip tightly and twist while wearing silicone oven mitts. Repeat.

~ Use a Q-tip to apply a tiny amount of liquid silicone between the dome and its metal collar. Grip tightly and twist, without and with silicone oven mitts. Repeat.

~ Schedule with the electrician: January 8, 10:00 a.m.

~ Dismiss the suggestion Elaine found on Reddit: use a shoe. A shoe? No way.

~ Refuse to give up.

~ Watch several YouTube videos suggesting methods of removal: Gorilla Tape, a rubber extension cord, a screwdriver. A screwdriver? No way.

~ Find a video showing a sneaker in action. Hmm.

~ Use the bottom of a Merrell shoe. Tap all around. Won’t budge. Tap all around. Budges slightly. Tap all around. More budging. More tapping. More budging. More tapping. More budging. Finally the dome is free.

~ Replace bulb, climb down, call to cancel the electrician.

The reassuring but also alarming thing: the problem is common, as evidenced by the number of YouTube videos proposing solutions.

[The last “home repair” of the year. Post title, as well as shoe suggestion, from Elaine.]

Missing Moleskine pages

[March 25 followed by April 11. Really.]

For me, the ritual of the new year’s Moleskine planner begins as the old year ends. First comes the removal of shrinkwrap, followed by the use of an iron to uncrease the silk-ribbon marker. Thank you for not laughing at my ritual.

When I began writing in some details of the new year yesterday — birthdays, appointments — I did a doubletake, really. And indeed, sixteen days are missing from this pocket-sized daily planner. This fail is not a one-off: a 2012 YouTube video shows an eighteen-month pocket-sized weekly planner that jumps from August 19 to October 10. An Amazon review has a photograph of a 2024 pocket-sized weekly planner that runs from January 1 to March 17, then from January 22 to March 17, and then from July 8 on. The luck of the Irish?

The only calendar I think I should proofread is the one I make myself every year. But perhaps proofreading a Moleskine well in advance of the new year is a wise policy. The opportunity to return my planner to Amazon ran out in August, and no, they would not make an exception. (I called.) I’ve let Moleskine, whose planners I’ve been using since 2006, know about the problem with my planner. And I’m now waiting on a Leuchtturm planner and an extra oppportunity for engaging in a ritual. This Moleskine planner will be my last.

*

February 5: After finding the Leuchtturm week-on-two-pages format uncongenial, I caved and bought a replacement Moleskine. I’m still waiting on a reply to a letter to Moleskine U.S., sent January 9.

*

The story of my effort to get a refund for my defective Moleskine continues here and here.

Public Domain Day

New Year’s Day is also Public Domain Day. Among the items falling out of copyright today: the Carl Theodor Dreyer film The Passion of Joan of Arc, the Wanda Gág book Millions of Cats, the Cole Porter song “Let’s Do It (Let’s Fall in Love),” and the Bessie Smith recording “Down Hearted Blues.” And, as they say, many, many more.

Here’s one list. And another. And one more.

New Year’s Eve 1923

[“100 Dry Agents Fail to Stop Drinking As New Year Dawns. Several Raids Net Only Four Arrests, but Broadway Gets Sixty-Two Summonses. Small Crowds in Streets. Hotels, Restaurants and Cabarets, However, Are Filled With Gay Parties.” The New York Times, January 1, 1924.]

Happy New Year to all.

Not yet A Great Day

[17 East 126th Street, Harlem, Manhattan, c. 1939–1941. From the NYC Municipal Archives Collections. Click for a much larger view.]

The arrow points to a fine-looking brownstore. But it would look even better with fifty-seven musicians and a bunch of kids in front, no?

On August 12, 1958, 17 East 126th Street was the location for the celebrated Art Kane photograph known as A Great Day in Harlem.

The moment is well-documented. Here, from The Guardian, is the photograph, with full identifications and additional photographs. One omission: the photograph with Marian McPartland on the left doesn’t identify the musician in profile on the right. That’s the bassist Milt Hinton, who took photographs of his own that day. Here’s one. Home movies shot by Milt’s wife Mona Clayton Hinton may be seen in the documentary A Great Day in Harlem (dir. Jean Bach, 1994), unavailable for commercial streaming but easy to find at YouTube. The film’s website has photographs with Willie “The Lion” Smith (who tired of standing and went to sit down on another stoop) and Dizzy Gillespie’s photograph of latecomers.

I must mention that Elaine and I and our wee daughter Rachel met Milt and Mona Hinton in 1988 and again in 1989 at a then-yearly jazz festival in Decatur, Illinois. Mona later sent several postcards to Rachel and her newly arrived brother Ben all those years ago. Such kindness.

*

A reader reminded me of the 1995 reprise, photographed by Gordon Parks. The surviving musicians (unidentified at the site with the photograph): Hank Jones, Eddie Locke, Horace Silver (left); Benny Golson, Art Farmer, Chubby Jackson, Johnny Griffin (top); Marian McPartland, Milt Hinton, Gerry Mulligan (right). Sonny Rollins is missing. I don’t know who’s sitting on the curb: one of the kids from the 1958 photograph?

In 2023, two musicians from the 1958 photograph are still with us: Benny Golson and Sonny Rollins.

Related reading
More photographs from the NYC Municipal Archives (Pinboard)

Today’s Saturday Stumper

Today’s Newsday  Saturday Stumper, by Matthew Sewell, left me in a quarrelsome mood — not just because I missed by one letter but because the fit between some clues and their answers is awfully strained.

Four clue-and-answer pairs I especially liked:

4-D, nine letters, “Part of the Doctor Zhivago score.” LARASTHEM?

18-A, nine letters, “Quadruped symbol of Idaho.” Weird and kinda wonderful.

34-A, fifteen letters, “Rivalry with rarefied ESPN ratings.” I have no idea what’s on ESPN beyond “sports,” and no idea what rarefied ratings are (uh, high ones?), but I liked seeing the answer.

42-D, five letters, “They’re often canvas-covered.” Nice misdirection.

Occasions for quarrels:

16-D, thirteen letters, “Starts of Rhapsody in Blue performances.” A giveaway, sure, and my starting point in this puzzle. But starts here makes no sense. Performances of Tristan und Isolde don’t begin with overtures; they begin with the overture. Performances of Hamlet don’t begin with Act Ones. Not a great clue, not a great answer. As the answer is already a giveaway, I’ll suggest what I think is a better clue: “Goodman productions.” Or trickier: “Shaw productions.”

26-A, four letters, “Workbook portmanteau.” What is a workbook portmanteau? A word in a workbook? A word for a workbook? Not a great clue: it’s comparable to calling brunch a silverware portmanteau.

48-A, eight letters, “Approach incautiously.” Approach implies movement toward a literal or figurative destination. The answer here involves no destination, only sustained movement at a relatively fixed distance. Not a great clue.

52-D, three letters, “Waffle.” No. Just no. This answer never or virtually never appears on its own to mean waffle. Elaine suggests a much better clue: “Part of a waffle.”

The final letter of the crossing answers for these clues messed me up:

41-D, five letters, “Hold nothing back, these days.”

56-A, four letters, “Meeting place.”

I had a strained answer for the latter, but no idea about the first. But now I know something I might do, “these days.”

No spoilers; the answers are in the comments.

Joe and me and I

From yet another e-mail from the Biden-Harris campaign inviting me to make a contribution and win the chance to have a cup of coffee:

[“The chance to meet Joe and me.” Click for a larger view.]

Ah, thought I, they’re paying attention to pronouns. I thought they’d gotten it together when my daughter Rachel pointed me to a November 29 tweet: “Have a cup of joe with Joe and me.”

But the next paragraph of today’s e-mail repeats an error from a November e-mail: “One of Joe and my favorite parts about being on the campaign trail.”

Sheesh.

And three paragraphs later:

[“With Joe and I.” Click for a larger view.]

Sheesh and sheesh again.

I e-mailed about the first e-mail in November. And yes, I’m going to contribute at some point. But I can’t be moved by this kind of appeal. Who writes this stuff? And who approves it?

*

December 30: The hits just keep on coming. In today’s e-mail: “I have one more important request: to ask that you consider contributing to support President Biden and I ahead of the last public fundraising deadline of the year.”

Related reading
All OCA How to improve writing posts (Pinboard)

[This post is no. 117 in a series dedicated to improving stray bits of public prose.]

Horizons

Helen Keller, The World I Live In (1908).

Also from this book
On lines

Forecast, *forecasted

[From Apple’s Weather widget. Click for a larger view.]

I noticed the verb yesterday. Garner’s Modern English Usage:

forecast > forecast > forecast. So inflected. *Forecasted is a solecism that spread during the 20th century and continues to appear.

Bryan Garner puts *forecasted at Stage 2 on the GMEU Language-Change Index: “Widely shunned.” He has the ratio of forecast that to *forecasted that in print as 6:1.

But seeing *forecasted as wrong is likely to become to increasingly difficult if one sees it again and again on a screen. “Light rain expected” might solve the problem, as “Light rain forecast” looks, at least to me, like an odd use of the noun forecast.

[Yesterday was rain. Today it’s snow.]

Bravery!

“Still, millions choosing to brave America’s airports”: a reporter on NBC Nightly News tonight.

[Travel is sometimes a matter of bravery. But sometimes not.]