This time last year I was reading a lot about ejaculation. Shortly before Memorial Day,
I checked a couple of Zane Grey's books out of the library, figuring I ought to know some-
thing about the guy who had helped me so many times in doing crossword puzzles.
The books included "The Horse Thief" whose hero, Dale Brittenham, "ejaculated" several
times in broad daylight. I believe the first time was on page 78. " 'Well, here's a rummy deal! ' '
he ejaculated." When Grey used the word "ejaculated" in this novella more than 70 years ago,
he meant "said." I don't think he was trying to imply that Dale was talking and fondling himself
at the same time.
Dale's sidekick is an Indian named Nalook who Grey gave such lines as "me come slow -
look see," and "We go quick. Soon night." While reading the utterings of Nalook, I thought that
if he were alive today with a vocabulary like that he could be a street reporter for any "Live At
Five" news operation in the country.
After Zane Grey has Dale ejaculate several times, Nalook finally gets his chance when he
hears that one of the bad guys, Bayne, has been killed.
" 'Ugh! Bayne jail Injun no more! ' Nalook ejaculated with satisfaction." Way to go, Nalook!
My memory of this subject is backed up by a copy of a letter I sent to a friend about Zane
Grey's word choice and other highlights of our 2009 Memorial Day weekend. During that "long
holiday weekend," as radio anchors love to say, we also saw a movie, went out to dinner, listened
briefly to a radio newscast, and did some baking.
The movie was "Angels & Demons," based on the book by Dan Brown. It's one loud movie.
Apparently director Ron Howard thought if you pumped the soundtrack up real high with
much thumping of drums that would denote tension. To heighten the suspense even more, you
have cars racing hither and yon late at night, and then stopping suddenly and people getting out
and running off somewhere. It is a ridiculous story and movie, but Irene, a big Tom Hanks fan,
wanted to see it. I had the feeling that Hanks knew the film was a dog and persuaded the
makeup people to disguise him by slapping so much goo on him that he looked exactly like
Timothy Hutton.
That night we went to dinner at one of Irene's favorite restaurants where I ordered the pasta
special, bow ties with peppers and "Cajun-rubbed grilled chicken." I thought of asking the waiter
a series of questions. Did he know the name of the Cajun who rubbed my chicken? Who was the
most famous Cajun chicken-rubber? And was it possible that my chicken had been rubbed by
Buckwheat Zydeco or someone related to him? I decided against initiating a long, almost
certainly confusing and pointless conversation because there was an NBA play-off game on
later in the evening.
Driving home, we heard part of the 8 p.m. newscast on CBS Radio. The lead was one of
those dreadful NASA snow jobs - everyone did a great job and this mission was a real success -
presented as the truth by the anchor. Then there was a story about a Memorial Day weekend
rally held somewhere on this planet in support of U.S. soldiers. I say "somewhere" because the
anchor never told us. He just said "there" twice. To slightly rewrite Gertrude Stein, "there was no
there there." I punched the off button seconds later.
And on last Memorial Day shortly after breakfast, I was in the kitchen, making an apple pie
and bread for dinner. Irene was in charge of fixing the ribs and steaks later in the day for our
guests - Julie, Lynn and Rachel, our daughter, son-in-law and oldest granddaughter. Rachel's
brother, Nicholas, wouldn't be joining us. He was on the New Jersey shore where his girl-
friend's parents have a second home. (I had hoped he would have dinner with us so I could
needle him, again, about the complete lack of progress in fulfilling a long-standing assignment
to meet a young lady whose parents own a bed and breakfast in the Austrian Alps, thereby
saving his grandfather considerable ski expenses.)
This Memorial Day weekend we plan to drive up to the Little Falls, New York area to do some sightseeing. Zane Grey isn't going with us. The book I'm reading this year is "Deadline," by James Reston, the former New York Times columnist and Washington bureau chief. In the first 180 pages I've read, various politicians and newspaper people have "said" this and that, but so far no one has "ejaculated," even though our nation's capital - in Reston's time and now - is full of people who do. Frequently. Before cameras and microphones.
(Posted May 26, 2010)