A Love Letter to Rioja

I’ve been meaning to write about wine here for a while now, because my favorite part of my job at Bloomberg Markets magazine was editing Elin McCoy’s Drinks column. I learned so much about wine from Elin, who is still writing about drinks, especially wine, for Bloomberg.

Today I’m going to share my love for Riojas, Spanish wines made mostly from Tempranillo that are often sold at a bargain price. Riojas are typically released when they’re at their best or almost at their best to drink, so you don’t need to have a wine cellar or huge wine fridge to enjoy them at or near their peak. Because they tend to be good values at retail, they’re also typically one of your best bets on an extensive wine list at a restaurant. If the food we’re eating calls for a red, we’ll often choose the Rioja.

Here’s wine educator Mark Oldman, in Oldman’s Guide to Outsmarting Wine, on pairing Riojas with food: “Like lighter styles of Pinot Noir and Chianti, Rioja’s lighter body and refreshing tartness make it one of the most versatile red wines for food, perfect for when your table is divided between red and white fans.”

Riojas carry one of three designations: crianza, reserva, and gran reserva. Crianzas are the least expensive. Reservas are more expensive but are likely to be of higher quality. And gran reservas are the most expensive (though rarely exorbitant) and of the highest quality; they’re made only in select years.

I’ve been buying the 2019 Herederos del Marqués de Riscal Reserva Rioja regularly at Whole Foods of late. It usually costs $22.49, but it was on sale the other day for $20.29. I also always get a 10% discount because I buy at least six bottles. (After doing a little research, I see I should be buying it from Total Wine instead.)

Tony and I get notes of vanilla and rose, with some peppery spice and a hint of citrus. This wine may not be for you if you love big, juicy fruit bombs, but it’s a steal if you enjoy elegant wines that will complement your meal.

Editing Changes I Would Make in One of the Best American Short Stories of 2023

I’m having a fine time reading The Best American Short Stories 2023, but as you can tell from the title of this piece, I’ve got some issues with one of the stories in the collection. As always, my intention in writing this kind of blog post is to point out these issues in a spirit of helpful criticism, not know-it-all-ness, and, of course, to hopefully demonstrate that I’ve got solid editing skills. And the issues I found don’t at all prevent enjoyment of the story, which is “My Brother William” by Danica Li and which initially appeared in The Iowa Review.

“We cried when we were separated at school and the other kids made fun of us for it.” I would insert a comma after “school” because “the other kids” is a new subject.

“Towards the end of my stint with the website I flew to go visit him.” Another comma issue: Different publications have different rules about when a comma is needed after an introductory phrase, but because the introductory phrase in this sentence is so long, I can’t help but think a comma is needed, not just wanted, after “website.”

“—consciousness becoming like the trillion bits in a kaleidoscope which every ten seconds was given a vigorous shake—” The “which” should be changed to “that” because it’s the beginning of a restrictive clause that is crucial to the meaning of the sentence.

“Yearly its staff racked in journalism awards and fellowship grants, book contracts, top prizes in the field, plum speaking engagements.” I believe “racked” should be changed to “raked.” I don’t see any definition of rack that makes sense in that sentence.

“… secretly I thought that it was because our life paths were diverging, mine taking me deeper into the real world, him taking him deeper into worlds of his own creation.” Just like there’s (correctly) “mine” before “me,” the first “him” should be changed to “his” because Li is referring there to William’s path, not to William himself.

My Favorite Floral Arrangements From the Past Year

As I say on my About page, I enjoy making arrangements from flowers I buy at grocery stores. I figured I’d create a blog post featuring photos of my top 10 favorite arrangements from the past year. Here they are, in reverse chronological order:

This first one, from the end of September, consists of gerbera daisies, rice flowers, and what I refer to as fuzzy green filler.

This bouquet is a blend of roses and ranunculus, aka buttercups.

This one, from July, is all mums.

Purple alliums, white mums, and orange gerberas.

This photo, from May, is currently on my About page. Here we’ve got two kinds of mums and hypericum berries.

Astrantias, two kinds of mum, and leafy green filler.

Yellow and red ranunculus, carnations, and a filler named lepidium.

This arrangement from January utilizes sunflowers, mums (again), chamomile, carnations, and a filler I believe is called solidago.

For Christmas, I combined roses, mums, and winterberry.

Finally, from last November, here are carnations, mums, and leafy green filler.

A Post in Which I Catch the Same (Small) Mistake in Two Novels

I recently re-read a wonderful comic novel by Andrew Sean Greer called Less. There’s a scene in Less in which Robert Brownburn, a lover of the title character, Arthur Less, wins the Pulitzer Prize in Poetry, so it’s a case of life imitating art that Greer won the Pulitzer Prize in Fiction in 2018 for writing Less.

I’m currently reading John Boyne’s The Absolutist, a not-at-all-comedic novel about World War I and its aftermath. In between those two books, I read Greer’s follow-up to Less, which is called Less Is Lost. I enjoyed it, but not quite as much as its predecessor.

In both Less and The Absolutist, I found the same small mistake, one I wouldn’t have bothered to write a post about except for their exactness. On page 91 of Less, the article a is missing before moment:

At the top of page 75 of The Absolutist, the same mistake appears. (There’s also a missing word, probably at, after We look.)

Isn’t that a strange coincidence?

Gluten Free & More Is Back

Like bread dough after a second proofing, Gluten Free & More has risen again as a print magazine. There’s no word on the mag’s website on how and when it emerged from its merger with Simply Gluten Free, but its return surely must have something to do with SGF founder and editor-in-chief Carol Kicinski being charged with four crimes related to the invasion of the U.S. Capitol on January 6, 2021, by supporters of Donald Trump.

According to the plea agreement regarding her case on the U.S. Department of Justice website, Kicinski pleaded guilty to one charge, “Entering and Remaining in a Restricted Building or Grounds, in violation of 18 U.S.C. § 1752(a)(1).” Kicinski signed the agreement on October 27, 2022. There was no indication on the webpage about her case of when her sentencing would take place. The page was last updated on November 10, 2022.

According to the plea agreement, she faces a maximum of one year in prison, a $100,000 fine, and supervised release of up to one year. The federal court could also require her to pay back the federal government for any costs associated with her imprisonment, term of supervised release, and period of probation, if they are part of her sentencing. She also agreed to “allow law enforcement agents to review any social media accounts operated by [her] for statements and postings in and around January 6, 2021, and conduct an interview of [her] regarding the events in and around January 6, 2021 prior to sentencing.”

Two editing-related points, because this joint is supposed to focus on editing: I don’t know how federal legal code is written, but the way the part that’s pertinent to Kicinski’s case is phrased—“knowingly enters or remains in any restricted building or grounds without lawful authority to do so”—isn’t grammatical in my eyes. You can’t remain “in … grounds.” If I had my druthers, I would make it say, “knowingly enters or remains in any restricted building or enters or remains on any restricted grounds without lawful authority to do so.”

I also think the wording should be “on and around January 6, 2021” in the plea agreement. That preposition is used for specific dates; in is used for less-exact time frames, like “in April” or “in June 1968.”

Tony's Floral and Spicy Liqueurs and My First Attempt at a Boozy VFD

I was so psyched when Tony said he would make alkermes for us this past holiday season. He first tried this Tuscan liqueur he says smells like “Christmas in a bottle” on a trip we took to Rome in the summer of 2015 and made a homemade version in time for that same Christmas.

Inspired by an article about innovative liqueurs in Food & Wine magazine—and the large bag of hibiscus flowers he had recently purchased from Atlantic Spice Company—he decided to also make a homemade version of Sorel, the hibiscus-based liqueur created and produced by Jack From Brooklyn.

Both liqueurs, which feature a floral component and various spicy notes, were sensational, but I enjoyed his newer concoction a skosh more. Rose water provides the floral note in alkermes (which is also spelled alchermes).

That's a photo Tony took of his first alkermes, in New Jersey. He mostly followed this recipe from Len Poli, a sausage maker in Sonoma, California. (Note: The recipe page isn't a secure site.) Hmm. I'd forgotten that's where it came from. The alkermes is intended to be used in a Tuscan cured meat product called mortadella di Prato.

Back then, Tony used red food coloring from the grocery store in place of the cochineal. His recent alkermes wasn't as pretty; he didn't bother with any coloring. The recipe doesn't say when to add the dye, but it's presumably at the same time as the rose water.

The alkermes incorporates dried orange peel and vanilla bean and a mélange of spices: cinnamon, coriander, aniseed, mace, cloves, and cardamom. For the hibiscus liqueur, Tony kept it simpler: clove, cinnamon, and ginger. For the liquid components, he used a mix of vodka and cold water at the beginning and sugar water when it was just about ready.


My first attempt at Eggnog Vegan Frozen Dessert turned out pretty well, but I'll need to keep experimenting with the recipe if it's going to become cookbook-worthy.

I knew I was going to use a vegan egg made of golden flaxseed as the egg in my nog. I was hoping using the golden kind of ground flaxseeds would result in a pale yellow VFD, but it didn't quite get there.

A lot of the vegan egg's gooeyness stayed behind in my strainer after I had cooked the VFD custard. The final product was as thick as usual, but I thought maybe next time I should cook the custard longer than I usually do to try to incorporate more of the richness of the egg. I also might double the volume of the egg to hopefully extract more of the gold color.

I knew eggnog should be spiced with nutmeg and spiked with some kind of alcoholic beverage. I researched recipes for drinkable eggnog and eggnog ice cream to see whether additional spices were sometimes used and what kind of booze was traditional.

Vanilla was a common addition to the ice cream recipes in particular. Cinnamon and/or cloves were sometimes included with the nutmeg, but nutmeg on its own was the most common spice contributor. Bourbon came up most often as the liquor, but rum was also common, and both were sometimes joined by cognac or another type of brandy.

The Food Network's website has recipes from Alton Brown for both the beverage and the ice cream, and the ingredient lists are identical except for the egg whites and extra sugar needed to make the meringue he incorporates into the liquid nog. His "3 ounces bourbon" is 6 tablespoons, which seems like an awful lot for only 3 cups of dairy product. I suspect I would prefer commenter Jennifer C.'s version of the ice cream if I got to try it; she dialed back the bourbon and added some vanilla extract and salt to amplify the other flavors.

A Classic Eggnog recipe on Martha Stewart's site calls for 16 egg yolks, vanilla—from a whole bean—and both bourbon and rum. The only spice is nutmeg, grated on top as a garnish.

A recipe called Martha's Classic Eggnog is extra boozy, with bourbon, rum, and cognac, and is enriched with meringue and whipped cream. And again, nutmeg is a garnish.

Finally, I looked to see what Dale DeGroff had to say about eggnog in his The Essential Cocktail, which I have on my bookshelf. His recipe, sourced to his Uncle Angelo, is reproduced at Liquor.com, with some changes that were presumably initiated by DeGroff himself, given his participation in the accompanying video. The amount of sugar in the meringue component is reduced by 1/4 cup. Nutmeg is strictly a garnish, while the book's recipe calls for using half a grated nutmeg berry in the liquid, before the meringue is folded in. (And the video shows DeGroff adding nutmeg to the serving/mixing bowl.) And you reserve some meringue for folding in as you're serving, while in the original, all of the meringue gets folded in at once. The amount of bourbon is doubled, to 8 ounces. And spicy rum is substituted for Jamaican dark rum. That's a lot of changes!

The Essential Cocktail also includes a recipe for Simplified Eggnog, which can be made by the glass instead of for a crowd. It's the recipe for Brandy Milk Punch—which consists of 2 ounces of cognac, 4 ounces of whole milk, 1 ounce of simple syrup, and a dash of vanilla extract—but with the addition of a whole egg. All of those ingredients are shaken vigorously together, and the resulting liquid is strained into a large highball glass and topped with freshly grated nutmeg.

One last note from DeGroff's book before I return to my VFD: Back in the day, nog referred to a strong ale, and that's what early English versions of eggnogs used for the alcoholic component. Rum was often substituted in America, because it was cheaper and more easily obtained, and DeGroff mentions an 1862 cocktail book—How to Mix Drinks by Jerry Thomas—that calls for Jamaican rum to be used in eggnog. So maybe that's how Jamaican rum ended up in the book's recipe, rather than spiced rum.


I was happy with the taste of my Eggnog VFD. I chose to use Bacardi Gold rum, mostly because our local discount liquor store was selling a tiny bottle of it and also because I'm not a big fan of bourbon or whiskey in general. I thought the nutmeg, my only spice, and rum both came through nicely. I used 1 tablespoon of rum and a slightly heaping teaspoon of freshly grated nutmeg, as well as 2 teaspoons of vanilla extract to help harmonize the dominant flavors.

I wasn't thrilled with the VFD's texture, but that may be unavoidable in one containing an alcoholic beverage. It was decidedly less creamy than my other VFDs, probably because the alcohol inhibits freezing of the final product and makes it more prone to iciness.

A Post With Updates About Gluten Free Oreos and My Strawberry-Rhubarb Vegan Frozen Dessert, Plus a Recommendation for a Phenomenal Yet Emotionally Draining Novel

I assumed the Gluten Free Oreos I used in my Cookies & Cream Vegan Frozen Dessert made Tony sick because of the explanation I gave in that linked post: the oat flour used in the cookies was produced from at least one of the specific oat varieties that are problematic for people with celiac disease (PWCD). And that actually may have been the case. But I wanted to raise another possibility I just became aware of: Nabisco isn’t disclosing how it ensures its ingredients for the cookies are GF, and two gluten-free watchdogs, including the one named Gluten Free Watchdog, are advising PWCD to be cautious about consuming this product because they’re not convinced every package will be GF.

Here is Gluten Free Watchdog’s statement on the cookies. And here is a post from Gluten Dude about Nabisco’s lack of transparency. (I think it’s a trustworthy article even though, I feel I need to point out, because it’s so highly visible, Gluten Dude’s first, declarative sentence has a question mark at the end. I appreciate the dude’s healthy skepticism when it comes to matters that involve my husband’s—and other PWCD’s—health.)

I also want to note that in the post linked to in my first sentence above, I neglected to mention a second way oats can become certified as GF. I had written that a certain, small percentage of oats are purposefully kept separate from wheat so they don’t get contaminated with that grain. But some (probably most) certified GF oats are produced by removing other grains from the oats until the resulting product has a small enough percentage of those contaminants to be considered GF. (Gluten Dude’s post does a good job of showing with individual grains of oat, wheat, and barley how that process works.) Understandably, PWCD are more comfortable consuming oats that were never tainted with wheat or barley.

In my earlier post, I also ignored the possibility that two or more of those three grains may be grown and harvested together and so are commingled right on the farm that produced them.

***

I was able to buy fresh rhubarb at Sprouts the other day, so I made my Strawberry-Rhubarb Vegan Frozen Dessert again. And this time, I made a double batch.

I also discovered Sprouts sells 12-ounce bags of both frozen rhubarb and frozen strawberries. Those are exactly the amounts I need to produce a double batch, so I’ll no doubt be making that VFD using frozen fruit before too long.

***

I’ve never been as emotionally invested in the ending of a novel as I was while finishing Douglas Stuart’s Young Mungo. Stuart, who won the Booker Prize for his debut novel, Shuggie Bain, tells his follow-up story on two separate timelines roughly four months apart; the pages that introduce the parallel threads say “THE MAY AFTER” and “THE JANUARY BEFORE.” By the time the January thread caught up to the May thread and the May thread revealed what comes next/last for the 15-year-old title protagonist, I was an emotional wreck. But I loved this book so very much and ordered a copy to devour again someday. (I had read a hardcover from my local library.)

YM is a romance and a crime thriller, but most of all, it’s a family drama, as Mungo deals with his narcissistic and alcoholic mother (whom he adores anyway, despite their poisonous relationship) and his violent older brother, who heads a gang of young thugs. Mungo’s intelligent and kind sister, Jodie, looks out for him and keeps the house running, even though she’s not much older than he is.

All of these characters—and Mungo’s boyfriend, James—are fully realized people, as are even relatively minor characters like Mrs. Campbell and Chickie Calhoun, both of whom live in the same building as Mungo’s family. Stuart has a wonderful gift for metaphor, and he reels out his twin plotlines perfectly, but it’s his skill at characterization that made me eager to read each new chapter.

I hope the Young in the title indicates Stuart is at least open to the possibility of writing multiple Mungo novels—and maybe Jodie at University too.

How Much Water Falls From Dettifoss Waterfall?

Every few months, our friend Jack will mail us a handwritten note with some articles he thinks we would enjoy that he’s cut out of newspapers and magazines. It’s always fun to get these old-school packages in the mail. Jack’s latest envelope contained an article from the New York Times' Travel section about North Iceland that I can use to show the importance of consistency of wording throughout a piece.1 And because that's not a whole lot to hang a blog post on, I'll also consider the question in the headline.

In the article itself, tourist destination Dettifoss is "said to be the most powerful waterfall in Europe":

In a photo caption, the superlative is hedged a bit more and is "said to be one of the most powerful falls in Europe":

The inconsistency regarding whether Dettifoss is the most powerful or only one of the most powerful remains in the digital version of the article, though the "said to be" has been dropped from the caption.

I'm going to follow the NYT's lead on this matter and not attempt to definitively answer whether there's a waterfall in Europe that's more powerful than Dettifoss, especially because it's hard to get a definitive answer online as to how powerful Dettifoss is.

On various websites, the waterfall's power is measured in some large volume of water dropping every second. Guide to Iceland gives 193 cubic meters as the average volume of water per second and converts that metric figure into 6,186 cubic feet. Online converters tell me the figure should be 6,816 cubic feet.

Visit North Iceland says the flow of water is more than 2.5 times higher: 500 cubic meters of water per second, which comes out to 17,657 cubic feet, or 132,086 gallons, per second.

1Jack knows Tony and I visited Iceland a few years ago. We didn't see any waterfalls, but we enjoyed some great food and drink in Reykjavik and a stop at the beautiful geothermal spa called Blue Lagoon. The other article Jack sent us was a single-pager from WSJ. (that's not available online) about Jhumpa Lahiri's favorite things. When I lived in Brooklyn, Lahiri and her family were my upstairs neighbors for a year or two.

Skill-less Safflowers and Peers Who Are More Twee Than You

I started thinking about words having—but mostly not having—the same letter three times consecutively because of safflowers, which are one of the flowers I regularly buy for making arrangements. I love their bright orange or reddish-orange petals that pop up out of green sacks, looking like less-threatening bull thistles.1 And I like safflowers' smell, which I find to be similar to calendulas' or marigolds'.2

In this arrangement from January, I combined safflowers with bupleurums. Both flowers are packaged as unnamed fillers at Trader Joe’s, where I buy most of my flowers, but I think they looked simply beautiful paired together, without any showier blossoms to distract the eye from them. And the bupleurums' long-lasting, round foliage worked well with the leafless safflower stems, whose more-conventional-looking leaves I'd stripped off.

Where was I going with this post? Oh, yeah—words with three of the same letters in a row. I thought safflower was probably like chaffinch, the name of a European bird that lost an f when it went from two words to one. But I see nothing online to suggest that safflower was ever saff flower.

There are precious few if any words in the three-of-the-same-letter category that are accepted as standard English by the major dictionaries. A commenter in an eight-year-old Reddit thread I found online copied over an Ask Oxford piece that said "the complete Oxford English Dictionary does contain instances of frillless, bossship, countessship, duchessship, governessship, and princessship, and the county name Rossshire." OED.com doesn't permit you to search a word or two without having a subscription, so I can't verify that old claim is still valid.

The bottom line with these words in modern American English is: either they are hyphenated ("skill-less") or one of the tripled letters is dropped ("skilless"). I generally prefer the hyphen because it's so clear what you're saying and why you're saying it that way. Readers might pass by "skilless" without thinking twice about what it meant, but they also might get hung up on it.

Merriam-Webster.com's entry for skill names the word in question as an adjective derived from skill. The listing is worded "skill-less or skilless," which means M-W believes both options are acceptable and neither is better than the other; they are equal variants. (If also had been used instead of or, that would have meant the second option is less commonly used and is considered a secondary variant.)

Another commenter in the Reddit thread suggested paleooologist, one who studies fossilized eggs, should be recognized as a valid word. M-W doesn't have an entry for it.

Yet another commenter threw out the word laparohysterosalpingooophorectomy. Emery University Medical School's Department of Gynecology and Obstetrics has a webpage that says laparoscopic salpingo-oophorectomy is the removal of one or both ovaries and fallopian tubes using a surgical technique that involves only a few small incisions, so that explains most parts of the commenter's word. M-W says hystero-salpingo-oophorectomy is "surgical removal of uterus, oviducts, and ovaries." I couldn't find a word similar to the commenter's word in a source I trusted without a hyphen after the first of the three consecutive o's.

M-W lists princeship as a noun derived from prince but doesn't do the same for princessship and princess. It has entries for godship and goddess-ship, so I assume M-W's editors would opt for princess-ship too.

The last thing I'll mention about this subject is that while M-W often opts for using a hyphen in longer nouns and adjectives, it tends to drop a letter in short words that would otherwise require two e's, a hyphen, and another e. Freer and freest are the comparative and superlative versions of the adjective free, and freer is also the person who frees someone or something.

However, seer and see-er are both legitimate ways of referring to one that/who3 sees (with seer also meaning one who predicts). M-W doesn't recognize peer as meaning "one who pees." But, of course, we drop an e when we put pee in the past tense: peed. And, similarly, it doesn't say whether tweer and tweest are the correct comparative and superlative for twee, so maybe I should say that while Tony and I have been enjoying watching this 15-year-old TV show on HBO Max, it's definitely one of the most twee series ever to air in prime time.

I'm going to end this post with two shots of one of my favorite arrangements, which I made about a month ago. It consists of sunflowers, mums that look like small sunflowers, and what I refer to as fuzzy green filler.

1Those "sacks" are made of bracts: modified leaves that support the flowers. The bracts and leaves of wild safflowers have spines, like thistles, but humans have developed spineless varieties.

2It's no surprise that safflowers should have similarities to those other three flowers because—like sunflowers, chrysanthemums, zinnias, and many other favorites—they're all members of the composite family: Asteraceae. What we tend to call these plants' individual flowers are actually many flowers, of one or two types, grouped together into a lovely whole. They may consist of disc flowers, ray flowers, or both. The classic example of the sunflower has disc flowers throughout its center, with ray flowers surrounding the disc. Both types of flower can become pollinated and produce a seed.

3For the longest time, I've thought it was incorrect to speak of a person "that"4 does something. (Mignon Fogarty, aka Grammar Girl, once did too, so I'm in good company.) It's not wrong to use that in that manner, but who certainly sounds more natural and proper in that context.

4That linked M-W entry for that offers up further possibilities for word nerdery. Comparing the 4a definition with the 1a–d definitions could take up a blog post. And those is the plural of that when it's used as a pronoun! It makes total sense, but if you had asked me yesterday what the plural of that was, I'm not sure I would have come up with that answer.

Conglomerates, a Corgi Calendar, Cold Missouri Waters, and Curly Hurdles

The word conglomerate was in the news last month because of General Electric Co.’s decision to split itself into three parts. Though it has divested itself of several businesses over the years—including appliances, financial, and entertainment—GE has remained a true conglomerate in that it’s an entity with diverse businesses.

I occasionally see conglomerate used to more broadly mean “a big-ass business,” as in this Vox story’s reference to “Stellantis, the Dutch automotive conglomerate.” Stellantis is a large company—it had third-quarter revenue of €32.6 billion—with a number of well-known brands, including Chrysler, Fiat, and Maserati, but it really has one business: to make and sell cars.

Another business term I sometimes see misused is spin-off, which takes me back to that GE story. The company will be spinning off its healthcare and energy businesses, leaving aviation as its only remaining industry. In a spin-off, the current shareholders of a company receive newly created shares in a division of that company. When I worked as an editor for a business magazine, I would occasionally have to change references to a company spinning off a division when it was actually selling it to another company.

***

Cafe Press, the printer of the 2021 calendar I’ve been looking at all year, screwed up and put Thanksgiving on a Friday.

Or maybe it was the fault of the calendar’s creator? Anyway, the calendar (which has the same art in its 2021 and 2022 incarnations) features some adorable photos of corgis, as does its sister calendar, which focuses on corgi butts.

The rescue group we adopted Missy from called her a corgi mix, but I’m no longer sure she has any corgi in her at all. I’m pretty certain she is part papillon, mostly because of the way the hair on her ears grows, and I’m becoming increasingly convinced she’s part Australian shepherd, a breed I don’t really know much about, other than it was actually developed in California. Several people we’ve encountered on walks have suggested they see Australian shepherd in her, and I saw a photo of a dog in a Facebook group I follow that was the spitting image of Missy, and he was half Australian shepherd. The dog’s human told me he was actually a much bigger dog than Missy and was also half German shepherd, which seemed unlikely to me.

Where the hell am I going with all of this? Where I inevitably go when I write about dogs on the blog: to a cute picture of our baby girl, who was eager to find out what her Papa Tony was putting on the dinner table the other night.

***

Even though I’m a word guy, most songs draw me in through a beautiful melody or a nonlyrical, super-catchy hook. But one of my favorite genres is folk, in which the lyrics are often the star and the songwriter can make you feel like you’ve heard a short story set to music.

The best story-telling song I’ve ever encountered is “Cold Missouri Waters,” which is written from the point of view of Wag Dodge, who survived the devastating Mann Gulch wildfire of 1949 only to die of cancer five years later. (I didn’t say it was a happy story.) Songwriter James Keelaghan created the song after reading Young Men and Fire, a book-length account of the fire and the people who fought it, by Norman Maclean.

I first heard the song on Cry Cry Cry’s 1998 self-titled album, and I got to hear the members of that folk supergroup—Lucy Kaplansky, Richard Shindell, and Dar Williams—sing it live back in the day.1 I've since listened to Shindell's solo version, Keelaghan's original version, and various other live and studio recordings—eight of which can be found here.

Once you've heard or read the lyrics, you know all the key elements of Dodge's story. The words take you from his hospital bed back in time to an airplane above the fire (the people who fought the fire, led by Dodge, were smokejumpers), then into the path of the fast-moving fire, and, finally, back to the hospital, where Dodge says he'll soon be joining the 13 men who died in the blaze.

My favorite verse is the penultimate one:

Sky had turned red, smoke was boiling / Two hundred yards to safety, death was fifty yards behind / I don't know why, I just thought it / I struck a match to waist-high grass, running out of time / Tried to tell them, step into this fire I’ve set / We can't make it, this is the only chance you'll get / But they cursed me, ran for the rocks above instead / I lay face down and prayed above the cold Missouri waters

Isn't that phenomenal writing?

Because this is an editing-focused post, I'll point out two wording-related questions I pondered after listening to the song many times.

First, on "the hottest day on record," in early August, is the Missouri River still going to be cold, even in the northern state of Montana? Eh, maybe it was only cool, but "cool Missouri waters" doesn't carry the same weight.

The second question I had was answered by blogger Tony Dalmyn. In the earlier studio versions, Keelaghan and Shindell (as part of CCC) sing "north Montana," while in other versions, the lyric is "west Montana." Why the two different directions? West Montana looks to be more accurate according to the map in the Wikipedia article linked above at "Mann Gulch wildfire." Dalmyn writes that Keelaghan changed the lyric at the request of people who live near the Gates of the Mountains.

***

I bought People magazine’s Sexiest Man Alive issue—for the articles, of course. On a page about Paul Bettany, two sentences popped out at me, in addition to the actor’s blue eyes.

First up: “Life’s curly.” I’d never seen curly being used in a sense other than “having curls” or something similar. One online dictionary says the word can mean “difficult to counter or answer” to English speakers in Australia and New Zealand, so I assume Bettany is saying “Life isn’t always easy.”

And I think hurdle later in that quote should be hurtle. “Move rapidly” makes more sense there than “jump over” or “overcome.”

1I didn't get to see CCC on their 2018 reunion tour; it didn't come anywhere near Fort Lauderdale. This YouTube clip shows CCC's performance of three songs from the Berkeley, California, stop of that tour: "Ten Year Night," which was written by Kaplansky and her husband, Richard Litvin; "Cathedrals," which was written by Jump, Little Children's Jay Clifford; and "Cold Missouri Waters."