Our Race Can Kick Your Race's Ass
Walter,
I'm sorry you find so little promise or fascination in the nascent New York
Senate race (yesterday, you said the same about Al Gore and George W. Bush. Who
does interest you?). I disagree. Giuliani's a far more complex and
appealing guy than your caricature indicates. And I guess we don't know the
same liberal Democrats, because mine are completely fired up about Hillary's
run. So please refrain from inviting Norman Mailer, Jesse Ventura, Jerry
Springer, or anyone else into our race.
Back to the papers. Yesterday you remarked on Peter Appelbome's warmly
honest obituary for Willie Morris, and today I want to mention R.W. Apple's
lovely goodbye to the cookbook writer Richard Olney. I never thought an
obituary could make me hungry. But this one does, by describing Olney's
favorite dishes, most memorable meals, and culinary heirs. The accompanying
photo is just as striking and informal: It depicts Olney, dishcloth tucked into
the waistband of his jeans, shelling peas in his Provence kitchen.
In contrast, the "Deaths" column--that is, the brief announcements placed by
the family and friends of the less-famous deceased--is depressingly uniform and
impersonal. (These announcements aren't printed in the national edition of the
Times . But every newspaper--except the one you write for--has its own
space for local deaths.) Today's all read the same way: "Surname--first name.
Cherished husband of wife. Deeply saddened ... heartfelt sympathies ...
sincerest condolences." None mention a single personal characteristic of the
deceased.
I wonder how the Times would have reacted if Olney's family had
submitted an announcement as personal as his obituary. "Olney--Richard. Adored
teacher of Alice Waters. Lived next to a grape arbor. Devoted lover of garlicky
chicken and supple mashed potatoes. Survived by his 35 books on food and wine."
Do you think they would have taken it?
Write soon,
Jodi
