In Impromptus today, I begin with one of our most contentious questions: transgenderism. Does my column get less controversial from there? A bit. In that opening section, I say,
When I was young, I knew two transgender people. I would not have known the word “transgender,” or related ones — but the phenomenon seemed clear.
Here on the Corner, I’d like to mention that there were two prominent transgender people, as I recall. What years am I talking about? Seventies.
One was Jan Morris, the writer. She had been James Morris. (Excellent under both names.) The other was Renée Richards, the tennis player. She had been Richard Raskind.
Let me give you a footnote — a footnote to my footnote here. After her tennis career, Richards was an ophthalomologist. Still is, perhaps. She had her office near National Review’s old offices, in Murray Hill (Manhattan, N.Y.). One day, I saw her at Chelsea Piers, hitting balls at the golf range (the only one in Manhattan).
Okay, enough Memory Lane.
Let’s go back to ancient Rome. A few days ago, I wrote about peace, or, if you like, “peace” — such a slippery term. I quoted a Roman expression: “They make a desert and call it peace.”
A friend writes with the fuller expression, which, in one translation, goes like this: “To ravage, to slaughter, to usurp under false titles, they call empire; and where they make a desert, they call it peace.”
My friend adds, “In short, Russian foreign policy.”
Last week, I recorded a podcast with George F. Will: here. Our topics: politics, baseball, and society. A listener and reader writes,
Jay, your Q&A took me back to my late 20s, when I would watch This Week with David Brinkley on Sunday morning. George Will was a panelist, along with Cokie Roberts and Sam Donaldson. Mr. Will is ever sharp. “The purpose of a writer is to keep civilization from destroying itself.”
The author of those words is Albert Camus.
Sometimes — often — I think of Ukrainians and Israelis, who may like to be doing other things in life, but are required to defend their country with arms. A reader writes,
Hi, Jay,
I’m standing in front of Edvard Grieg’s apartment in Leipzig. I passed on the way the Grassi Museum of Musical Instruments, and crossed through Old St. John’s Cemetery, where Bach’s bones originally lay before his eternal bed was remade at St. Thomas.
I’m awaiting call-up for reserves in Israel and am in Europe until such time.
I tell you, I am moved. Civilization, left undefended, is gutted by barbarism.