Liars and Saints

We almost lost Salvy. It was a cold, dark night. Marc had an event. I was home watching "Double Indemnity"; Salvy quietly tolerated this. Uninterested in the wet and the chill, I lazily opened the back door so Salvy could run around and poop. This was foolish--because, for over a year, I've lived with a crappy back fence, a fence that very clearly threatened to deteriorate at any moment. And, with me not knowing, a portion had just fallen apart. Now, when I remember the discovery of Salvy's absence, I hear a screaming baby and I see flashing lights. I think this is all invention. The end of the story is: Salvy had just found a means of egress through the crappy fence, circled the house, and plopped himself down next to the front door. There was a tearful phone call, there was a scraped toe, there were silly worries about tetanus, and then I discovered my dog. The dog seemed not at all swept up in the drama I had invented. He reentered the house. He was ready t

It's nearly Halloween. May I recommend the very first Simpsons "Treehouse of Horror"? Some thoughts: *The first volume, in which a haunted house turns against the Simpsons, pretty clearly builds on Spielberg's "Poltergeist." The big revelation is that the house was erected on "an Indian burial ground." (Difficult not to think about the current Apu controversy when you land on this joke. One grave is "Mahatma Gandhi"; another is "Not So Crazy Horse"; and so on.) *The great virtue of this half-hour is the writers' love for their material. The second volume--in which the Simpsons wrestle with possibly-nefarious aliens--seems to borrow from "Planet of the Apes." (The big idea is that we tend to imagine that The Other is the enemy, when, in fact, we ourselves have been the enemy all along.) The writers give Lisa the line including the dramatic epiphany: "When searching for evil, we should look inside our own he

Michael Connelly is regarded by some--by "The Washington Post," for example--as the greatest American crime writer alive today. His fans include Bill Clinton and Tom Perrotta. Connelly named his detective hero after the painter Bosch, and there's an "Earthly Delights" aura about Connelly's writing. So many weird, twisted characters. You have the sense you're absorbed in a lurid, fully-realized world. One of Connelly's great gifts is his level of observation. He pauses to notice an arrogant boss sitting on an employee's desk, and to notice the coffee stain forming on the boss's butt, and to notice that no one bothers to point out the coffee stain to the boss. Connelly notices Bosch worrying about his teenaged daughter eating too many pizza dinners alone. Connelly notices when someone uses a last name as a greeting, and when that choice of greeting is not received well. Another gift: Even with this level of detail, Connelly always

Sondheim’s Great Fixation. I think Sondheim’s main theme, over many years, has been innocence. Again and again, we see this topic. A young man dreams of “something coming” around the corner, or whistling down the river. Young people gather on a rooftop to sing of “our time...breathe it in....” A little girl in “Night Music” fights to believe her mother is the paragon she dreams of. An ambitious would-be starlet swears: “I’m just a Broadway Baby....working off my tired feet....pounding Forty-Second Street...to be in a show...” Sondheim has said his regret is not having had a child. But he certainly *wrote* about children, and about youth, over and over and over.... Sondheim’s Other Favorite. Beyond Harnick, there’s Fred Ebb--again, because Ebb thought about the words specific characters would actually use. In “Cabaret,” an old man brings a pineapple to an old lady. A great gift! “Would you like a slice?” asks the man. “That might be nice....but frankly....it would give me gas....”

What a treat to watch “The Great Pumpkin” last night. A few thoughts: *Is that a reference to Monet--the image of Snoopy (as a WWII fighter) asleep on a haystack in the French countryside? And the sketches of tiny trick-or-treaters in a pack--are those meant to evoke thoughts of Bruegel? (Oh, gosh. Sweaty!) *A great highlight is the passionate conversation between Charlie and Linus at the end. Both gentlemen are defeated. Each defeat has its own character. Charlie’s defeat seems to be a statement on life’s random malignancy: There truly is no reason why he, and he alone, would receive so many rocks in his treat bag, at so many houses. Linus’s defeat is different: Linus has been a fool, and he has suffered accordingly, and yet he can’t quite admit he has been a fool. This is how we end the show: With Linus fighting mightily against the tug of humbling self-knowledge. (Who could fail to relate?) What I really love is the gestures assigned to these two: They’re holding their faces in

There's only one Sondheim song I know by heart. I'm ashamed to say this. It's not even that SS is too wordy--as the misguided cliche would have it. Quite a few Sondheim bits are less-than-wordy. "Anyone Can Whistle," "Good Thing Going," "Losing My Mind," ""Not While I'm Around." The one Sondheim piece I know, easily, start to finish, is "Johanna," a creepy love tune, so I sing it over and over to my puzzled baby: I feel you, Johanna! I feel you.... I was half-convinced I'd waken... Satisfied enough to dream you... Happily I was mistaken.... Johanna.... And so on. My baby doesn't really respond. He neglects to respond--additionally--to "Goodnight, My Someone," "Where Is Love?" "A Bushel and a Peck," "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas," "The Sound of Music," "Somewhere Over the Rainbow," "Edelweiss," "Gary, Indiana,"

Sondheim's Other Favorite. Beyond Heyward and Loesser, there's Sheldon Harnick. Mr. Harnick is still alive; he is ninety-five! He once wrote a little show called "Fiddler on the Roof." Harnick's great subject was love. In song after song, he looked at new facets of love, weird facets, suspenseful facets, comic facets. "When Did I Fall in Love?" has Audra McDonald (famously) asking when her sense of respect for some guy grew into a bigger feeling. ("Where was the blinding flash? Where was the crashing chord?") "Will He Like Me?" simply, directly describes how it feels to await a first date: "Will the shy and quiet girl he's going to see... be the girl that he's imagined me to be?" We all tend to be a bit foolish--and love exposes that, as well. In "Vanilla Ice Cream," a woman, unfamiliar with her own heart, tries to feel enthusiasm for the wrong guy (while continuously veering back toward a speech abou

What books are on your nightstand? Amy Bloom's stories, "Where the God of Love Hangs Out." She is my old teacher, and I like reading things by someone I actually know; it's easier to slip into the story. I think "God of Love" is Bloom's best book, though her recycling of stories from earlier volumes is a bit shameless. I especially like the first story, "Your Borders, Your Rivers, Your Tiny Villages," which has a middle-aged couple awkwardly conducting an affair while news reports from Dubyah's war flash across a TV screen in the background. I have Philip Pullman's new book, but as much as I like Lyra, and as much as I find Mrs. Coulter's villainous brother engaging, I feel the story is self-indulgent. One damn thing after another. I'm missing a sense of momentum. And there is my husband's reading selection--Adam Rippon's memoir, "Beautiful on the Outside"--which is worthwhile for the title, at the very l

It's almost Halloween. May I recommend "Rear Window"? Critics say "Vertigo" is better. But I find "Vertigo" a bit slow in parts. The convolutions of the plot get to be a bit much. Here are things to cherish, in "Window": *The maid. James Stewart's helper is a real asset, especially when she speaks up in favor of Grace Kelly: "Good sense belongs wherever it finds itself." In other words: It doesn't matter if you're fancy. If you're sensible, you can adjust to any circumstances. *The final image. When Grace Kelly and James Stewart seem to have reached a truce, Grace Kelly indicates her new status with her choice of reading material. We see her scanning "Beyond the High Himalayas": She is going to rough it. She is going to leave her fancy life and be an adventurer, like her future husband. But as soon as Stewart falls asleep, Kelly drops her book. And she picks up a copy of "Vogue." The NYT s

Howard Ashman's "The Little Mermaid" was a Broadway musical disguised as a Disney cartoon. It then actually became a Broadway musical (briefly, with Sherie Rene Scott as the villainess). "Mermaid" will now return to the screen--as a live-on-TV event with Queen Latifah. (Why not?) "Mermaid" won Ashman his first Oscar (not his last), and that Oscar went to "Under the Sea." The song was a kind of extended sales pitch: The speaker was trying (and failing) to get the titular mermaid to fall in love with aquatic life. Because of the song's success, Ashman rehashed its charms with "Be Our Guest" (another sales pitch), and rehashed its charms yet again with "Prince Ali" (Sales Pitch Three). "Guest" and "Ali" failed to win Oscars, though they both managed to generate attention, at least, from major prize-givers. One thing to love in "Under the Sea" is its epigrammatic opening: "The seaweed

A movie that inspires passionate hatred is a special thing. To really, really hate a work of storytelling, you have to sort of care about that work of storytelling. Otherwise, you'd feel indifferent. To hate-watch can be intoxicating. It can stir you up. It can make you want to right (artistic) wrongs. I recommend the experience. The movie I enjoy hate-watching is Jonathan Demme's "Rachel Getting Married." I'm so puzzled and torn about this movie. I'm torn because there are things, here, that I really love. In particular: *Debra Winger. This is a titanic Winger performance. She is a volcano of rage. That she didn't win an Oscar here is still a bit shocking. When Winger appears, you creep forward in your seat. To see her mask slipping, slipping, and then to witness that big, justly-buzzy eruption of violence: Still fascinating. It's especially fun to watch Winger because she is so rarely around, these days, in Hollywood: You feel you're spot

Life, you’re beautiful (I say) you  just couldn’t get more fecund, more   befrogged  or  nightingaley , more   anthilful  or  sproutsprouting . I’m trying to court life’s favour, to  get into its good g races ,  to  anticipate its whims. I’m always the first to bow, always  there where it can see me with  my humble, reverent face, soaring  on the wings of rapture, falling  under waves of wonder.... This is the opening of "Allegro Ma Non Troppo," a poem by Szymborska. The speaker is a powerless courtier; life itself is Henry VIII. You try to make the King happy.  The speaker thinks she can please life itself by being appropriately joyous, soaring "on wings of rapture," falling "under waves of wonder." If you demonstrate enough wonder and rapture, you might impress God, and then God might reward you with an easy pathway. Of course life doesn't actually work this way, and it's comical to imagine we can exert an

*The male version of Bernadette Peters. That's Mandy Patinkin. Why? Peters is rare for originating major Sondheim AND Lloyd Webber roles on Broadway. Patinkin did the same thing. He was Broadway's first Che, in "Evita," and he was Broadway's first Georges, in "Sunday in the Park." Patinkin's achievement is possibly more stunning than Peters's achievement, because Che is more iconic than anyone you'll find in "Song and Dance." But Peters originated *two* Sondheim roles. Patinkin? Just one. *Sondheim's Second-Flashiest Rhyme. Remember: top honors went to "Company." Second place is from "Into the Woods," and it's Jack's mom, arguing that a dying cow needs to be sold right away. "There's no time to sit and dither....while her withers wither with her." "Dither/ with her" is flashy enough. But "wither," "wither," and "with her" rhyme, or sort of rh

Mrs. Palfrey first came to the Claremont Hotel on a Sunday afternoon in January. Rain had closed in over London, and her taxi sloshed along the almost deserted Cromwell Road, past one cavernous porch after another, the driver going slowly and poking his head out into the wet, for the hotel was not known to him. This discovery, that he did not know, had a little disconcerted Mrs. Palfrey, for she did not know it either, and began to wonder what she was coming to. She tried to banish terror from her heart. She was alarmed at the threat of her own depression.... This is from Elizabeth Taylor's "Mrs. Palfrey at the Claremont," her most famous novel, cited as one of the greatest novels of all time, in one of those silly rankings. She isn't THAT Elizabeth Taylor. She is a different person, and people say she would have won more fame if she hadn't shared her name with Martha/Brick's Wife/Cleopatra. A story is a journey--any journey--even if it's simply an ol

My goddess--and yours--Helen Mirren--returns to the screen on Monday night. She will take on the title role in "Catherine the Great," on HBO. A few things to remember about Dame Mirren: *Her ancestor served in the Russian Imperial Army. When he lost everything in the Russian Revolution, he became a cab driver. *Mirren has been Elizabeth I and Elizabeth II (award-winning roles, both). Mirren says she will *not* chip in when "The Crown" starts its coverage of the nineties. ("The Queen" and "The Audience" were enough.) Mirren was yet another queen in "The Madness of King George." *Mirren never had children and proudly declares there is not "one maternal bone" in her body. *Though Oscar loves an ingenue, in the Best Actress category, Mirren said FUCK THAT--and she won, anyway. We can all learn from Helen. She is telling us to do our best. She is everything, always. She is Helen.

*One hero of “She Said” is Ashley Judd. When Harvey Weinstein tried to assault Judd, Judd used her wits. She joked. She made light (well, artfully *seemed* to make light) of the situation. As a final kiss-off, she said, “Win me an Oscar in a Miramax film, Harvey, and then I’ll give you a blow job.” Judd left Hollywood to attend graduate school at Harvard; she became a Harvard professor. When basically no one in Hollywood was willing to speak against Weinstein--not Paltrow, not Jolie, not Hayek--Judd was willing to speak on the record. *One amazing aspect of this book: People return to acting even after they have been treated so terribly. Both Paltrow and Judd have dipped their toes back into the acting waters, in recent years. The creative drive is strong. *”She Said” closely resembles “Spotlight,” in the sense that there is the crime, and then there is the large web of presumably healthy people willing to aid in the cover-up of the crime. Power is just that immovable. An unfor

Dolly Parton's great songs involve a tense humming--tension that isn't (or isn't quite) resolved. In "9 to 5," our heroine has dreams of her ship coming in, but, for the moment, she is also contending with a troglodyte boss. "Jolene" famously pits Dolly against a temptress; the stakes are Dolly's husband. "I Will Always Love You" says that Dolly is going, yes, but also? "I'll think of you every step of the way." My new favorite Dolly--"Marry Me"--is the story of a young bride squaring off against her (prospective) mother-in-law. The chatty bride is confiding in us; we are her friends. "I met a boy from Grassy Branch, fine as he can be." With her standard, effortless economy, Dolly gives us an image of the boy: "Sky-blue eyes, big wide smile; tall as a sycamore tree." These two are going to marry--surely! ("He knows a lot about love and stuff and he's gonna marry me.")

No, happiness is the uncle you never knew about, who flies a single-engine plane onto the grassy landing strip, hitchhikes into town, and inquires at every door until he finds you asleep midafternoon as you so often are during the unmerciful hours of your despair. It comes to the monk in his cell. It comes to the woman sweeping the street with a birch broom, to the child whose mother has passed out from drink. It comes to the lover, to the dog chewing a sock, to the pusher, to the basketmaker, and to the clerk stacking cans of carrots in the night.                      It even comes to the boulder in the perpetual shade of pine barrens, to rain falling on the open sea, to the wineglass, weary of holding wine.   That's Jane Kenyon, who was often depressed. Happiness seems to be Uncle Charlie, from "Shadow of a Doubt": the strange man you never knew about, sweeping into town.  The miraculous thing about happiness is that it v

*It's difficult to write a memoir about a baby because the baby's personality is inchoate. The baby communicates through his poop, his smiles, his tongue-sticking-out: And that's mainly it. In a baby memoir, the stars need to be: The Nutty Nurse, One's Own Parents (who are now grandparents), One's Husband, One's Own Anxious Mind. *One's Own Anxious Mind has a prominent role. Notice that Mind. It's crazy! It latches onto a paragraph about SIDS. No one really understands SIDS, so a great deal of the writing about it seems to be hushed speculation. Do not put your baby on his side, because let's say his cognition is impaired in some way, and he doesn't realize he is in danger and that shifting his sleeping position could end that danger, and then, mysteriously, he ends up dead. That's a memorable passage. *Find yourself awake at three AM, thinking about the pacifier, wondering if the pacifier is in the baby's mouth and obstructing the re

In honor of the approaching big event (Sondheim’s Ninetieth), a few special titles: * Flashiest Sondheim Rhyme . This, of course, comes from “Company,” when the single ladies are trying to get zombie-like Bobby out of his slump. “When a person’s personality is personable, he shouldn’t oughta sit like a lump. It’s harder than a matador coercin’ a bull to try to get you off a yer rump....” Yes, Sondheim rhymed “personable” with “coercin’ a bull....” * Biggest Sondheim Near-Miss. There is a special distinction Bernadette Peters has: She originated major roles in both a Sondheim production and an Andrew Lloyd Webber production. She was Broadway’s first Dot, Broadway’s first Witch, and Broadway’s first lead lady in “Song and Dance” (Tony Award). Not even Patti LuPone can say she has been a First both for Sondheim and for ALW. Do you know who came *so close* to this distinction? Betty Buckley. Famously, she was Grizabella in “Cats,” and she won the Tony (despite having almost been fired

It’s a little bit ridiculous the number of major-event books happening right now. A memoir by Saeed Jones, the fantasy novel “Ninth House,” a new “Golden Compass” novel, a new Edna O’Brien, some kind of non-fiction from Lindy West: These are all (all!) Mark Your Calendar books. I’ve more or less abandoned my efforts to stay current with trashy movies: “The Curse of La Llorona,” “Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark,” “Abominable,” “Zombieland 2” are all just wishes I once had, now receding, receding, in my rearview mirror. But new books? They are something I can try to keep up with even while jiggling a small baby on my lap. Anyway, the book that will likely generate some of the loudest buzz is the book that arrives tomorrow: “Olive, Again,” by Elizabeth Strout, and here are the things worth knowing. *Strout is extremely fond of Russian writers, and she also likes Virginia Woolf, D. H. Lawrence, and Alice Munro. One surprise: She is a fan of Stewart O’Nan, who lives in Pittsburgh

“Little Shop of Horrors,” maybe my all-time favorite musical, is returning to New York City. Here are some things to know: *Ellen Greene’s performance in the original off-Broadway version is storied, to say the least. She was so excellent, she returned for the movie (though the directors surely could have opted for a bigger star). Ellen Greene is so outstanding, she returned for a recent Jake Gyllenhaal revival, though she was (and is) much older than Jake Gyllenhaal. And people went wild. (I feel bad for anyone asked to play Audrey who is not Ellen Greene. ) *Jonathan Groff, the star of the new production, has an odd history. He has bounced from “Frozen” to “Hamilton” to “Mindhunter” to “Looking.” That is just a strange career. Mr. Groff has renounced social media; he doesn’t believe he is interesting enough. A favorite activity of his is to return to his rural Pennsylvania hometown to see high-school productions of musicals. (I love this.) Mr. Groff is not the most exciting perfo

“The Peanuts Papers” will appear soon. It’s a selection of essays by heavy-hitting writers--e.g. Ann Patchett--on the art of Charles Schulz. NPR--a source I don’t consistently trust--says that the book is slightly “sweaty.” There is sometimes too much effort expended in trying to prove that “Peanuts” is profound--with references to Brecht, Chekhov, Kant, that sort of thing. Maybe. But it seems to me “Peanuts” can withstand comparisons to major literary works. (“‘Peanuts,’” says Ann Patchett, “taught me how to write.”) Loneliness, absurdity, religious searching, self-sabotage, love: These are weighty themes, and they are just as crucial to “Peanuts” as they are to “Uncle Vanya.” In a “trailer” for “The Great Pumpkin,” Linus becomes excited by a mountain of leaves, throws himself into the middle, then remembers he is carrying a treat. The moral: “Never jump into leaves when you’re holding a wet lollipop.” (And maybe try to keep an eye on your own impetuosity, in all scenarios.) T

*The works of Ryan Murphy. I think mainly I envy Ryan Murphy, because he is so prolific and so successful. But how often is a Ryan Murphy show actually a good piece of writing? I was pretty consistently hooked on "The People vs. O.J. Simpson." But even then I wonder, did the series need to exist? Did it accomplish anything that Jeffrey Toobin hadn't accomplished (in greater depth) in "The Run of His Life"? *The recent public statements of Ellen DeGeneres. Ugh. Dig deeper, Ellen. *The Jefferson Market Library. This is one of the most popular libraries in New York City, and it has recently moved its daily open-the-doors time to 1 PM. Unacceptable. How does anyone live in this town? *Amazon chicken cutlets. Amazon, you know we want to prepare these in a skillet, and that we're going to need to "thin-slice," as prep, so everything gets cooked-through. Why not do the thin-slice on your end, and save time for everyone? *Polite listening. I feel m

From the complications of loving you I think there is no end or return. No answer, no coming out of it. Which is the only way to love, isn’t it? This isn’t a play ground, this is earth, our heaven, for a while. Therefore I have given precedence to all my sudden, sullen, dark moods that hold you in the center of my world. And I say to my body: grow thinner still. And I say to my fingers, type me a pretty song. And I say to my heart: rave on. Mary Oliver was an old lesbian who died earlier this year. I think, in the poem above, she is (at least on one level) addressing life itself. She feels deep, interesting ambivalence toward some aspects of life. What seems difficult is maybe really beautiful; a difficult moment makes the poet more curious. (“I say to my body: grow thinner still....I say to my heart: rave on.”) Ambivalence is painful--it’s two strong emotions, in conflict--but it’s also a fact humming along through life. It’s nice to think of “diving in” to ambivalence,

The titanic men of Broadway--men I've actually seen on-stage. A note: Obviously Butz and Patinkin would be on this list if I'd seen them live, but I haven't. Another note: Men on Broadway? Who cares about the men? I know, I know. Still, it's fun to think about which ones you would elevate above the rest. (5) Joshua Henry. (4) Gavin Creel. (Ridiculously charming and talented, but how much depth can you find there?) (3) Raul Esparza. (2) Andrew Rannells. (Especially because his memoir has this line: "STILL ALICE is the Julianne Moore movie that teaches us you can be pretty and sort of young, and still get dementia.") (1) Christian Borle. I feel weird making this choice. I do not have a Borle obsession the way I have a Patti LuPone obsession. I didn't even see Borle's two Tony-winning roles. And I don't love "Falsettos"; I think it's over-rated (though the second half is stronger than the first). Borle wins the prize mainly

Things for dads to know: *"It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown" will air on Oct. 22 (ABC) this year. It will air again on Oct. 27 (part of a CB double bill)--! *If you're making a Halloween costume, felt squares, super glue, and sweat pants are your friends. I was a Kindergarten teacher for a long while: I actually have more to say about felt squares. If you're mass-producing cut-out shapes (and this is basically a big part of what you do, in education), then you want to STAY AWAY FROM THE CIRCLE. A circle is a pain in the ass to cut out. Substitute triangles: They're easier, and they'll give your piece an arty, semi-abstract look. Also, think about negative space. Let's say you're making a flower costume. Instead of cutting out blossom after blossom after blossom, just TRIM THE CORNERS OF YOUR FELT SQUARE. So much quicker and easier. This really is what you learn when you are a teacher (in case you were wondering). *Children are hypnotized

To make the cut, you have to be a diva presently alive, and be someone I have seen on-stage. (I'm lucky!) (5)  Lea Salonga.  Salonga was still a teenager when she landed the lead role in "Miss Saigon," and her performance is the stuff of legend. She won the Tony Award. On the Broadway recording, her voice is flawless. She's also tough, vulnerable, innocent, cold, desperate, and flirtatious. She again triumphed on Broadway as Eponine in "Les Miserables" and as Fantine in "Les Miserables." If she spent more time on the New York stage, she would likely rank higher than #5. (4)  Kristin Chenoweth.  Chenoweth has done iconic Broadway work: "Wicked," "You're a Good Man, Charlie Brown," "On the Twentieth Century," I also liked her in "Promises, Promises." She has an astounding voice; she's comfortable with opera, country music, pop music, Broadway standards. She has split-the-atom energy; the cli

Tonight's the night, you guys. Taylor Swift is appearing on "Saturday Night Live." It's time to talk--really talk--about "Lover": *To depict herself as a rebel, Swift sings, to her boyfriend, "We can leave the Christmas lights up till...January...." A part of me wonders if this is deliberate self-parody. A slice of rebelliousness is not removing the lights on Dec. 26? Do any American families actually *fail* to leave the lights up till January? I think about this a lot. *The song "Afterglow" bugs me. It bugs me because: TayTay is saying, "I know we had this big fight, but I apologize, and I want you to meet me halfway. Meet me in the afterglow." But "afterglow" is not a post-fight term. "Afterglow" is a post-sex term. There isn't a golden haze after a fight. This laziness really, really bothers me. *"You're taking shots at me like it's Patron." Exactly *what* is Patron, in this lin

    Daybreak until nightfall, he sat by his wife at the hospital           while chemotherapy dripped through the catheter into her heart.           He drank coffee and read the  Globe . He paced; he worked           on poems; he rubbed her back and read aloud. Overcome with dread,           they wept and affirmed their love for each other, witlessly,           over and over again. When it snowed one morning Jane gazed           at the darkness blurred with flakes. They pushed the IV pump           which she called Igor slowly past the nurses’ pods, as far           as the outside door so that she could smell the snowy air. This is a perfect poem, and it's obviously sad, but it's also just a little bit funny. The jarring combo of the profound and the banal: That's life, it's absurd, and it could make you giggle. You get the sobering reference to liquids "dripping into the heart," followed by the quotidian observation about drinking coffee and reading the

A secretary has very little power. Most of the power he, or she, wields...comes from wording and punctuation. Here is what I have learned. (1) A question mark is maybe a bad idea. Consider the difference between: "Can you please send this back to me?" AND "Can you please send this back to me." That period--instead of a question mark--is so stern! People snap into line! And people can't accuse you of being bossy or rude because you used "can you please..." Pretty magical. (2) Faux-cheeriness is generally a wise move. An email that ends with "thank you!" or "have a good day!" is smart, I feel. Unless the other person knows I'm really irritated, and then I suspect that he, or she, knows that a "thank you!" is fully disingenuous. (3) Including the recipient's name in the subject line is strangely flattering, and it might get you a speedy response. "To Peter -- Sept. 26..." How could you argue with that

Marriage is all contradiction. On blissful days, you choose to live for the moment, as in romantic fiction; on miserable ones, believe in what lies beyond the blue horizon. In short, you can't be realistic unless you dare to throw out reason... and marriage, after all, is a joint venture, not a game in which adversaries score a point; both of you stand to lose the match . That's Mary Jo Salter. The poem is "A Benediction." It's really a poem about death (I think). You and your partner can live in the present, or you can dwell on fears about deterioration and loss (things that are inevitable, in life: "what lies beyond the blue horizon"). A little realism is a good idea, but it can bog you down. A little fancifulness is a good idea, but it can leave you blind-sided. The final lines could help so many people, if posted in so many living rooms: "Marriage, after all, is a joint venture, not a game in which adversaries score a point; both of you

A podcast that really stunned me is "In the Dark." This one has two seasons. The first concerns a major kidnapping--a child named Jacob Wetterling--from several years ago. After Wetterling went missing, a national buzz began. Geraldo became involved. Sensational stories circulated. A myth hovered around the case: Law enforcement was doing everything possible. The efforts of "the good guys" were heroic. "In the Dark" exposes some uncomfortable truths. In fact, the efforts of law enforcement were not heroic. When someone goes missing, your job is to interview everyone living very close by. To focus on the tight circle surrounding the victim. That tight circle often yields answers. Data that might seem meaningless--"I spotted a car I didn't recognize"--could turn out to link to the solution to the case. You then go back and re-interview all the neighbors. You schedule re-re-interviews. Holes in stories, and discrepancies, turn out to be