Last Thursday, Xi Jinping went to Budapest, to finalize cooperation agreements with Viktor Orbán. Orbán said that China and Hungary have forged “a strategic partnership.” He also said, “China is one of the pillars of the new world order.” If that is true — the outlook for the world is poor.
I begin my Impromptus today with this matter. I also touch on presidential politics, identity politics, sports — and the Met Gala, where Bill and Pat Buckley shone for many years.
Let’s get to some mail. I had a post about a podcast: a podcast I recorded with Mohamad Jebara, a refreshing scholar of Islam. A reader writes,
Good afternoon, Jay,
Hope you’re having a week that is smooth and satisfying. Just read your post on Mohamad Jebara. My takeaway is: Let’s talk about what we don’t know with someone who does, and if we talk, and listen, we can learn, and then we can find common ground.
Our reader sent me that note last week. He added,
Don’t forget the mothers in our lives this weekend and every day, whether they are here or in the next world.
One of the items in an Impromptus two weeks ago was this:
In a bookshop, the cashier was a young woman whose name tag said “Monet.” “Named after the artist?” I asked. No, she said. “I was named after my mom’s best friend, who was named after the artist.” Nice.
A reader now writes,
Jay,
I named my daughter “Monet,” somewhat after the artist, because I thought his paintings were beautiful, and somewhat after an inexpensive line of jewelry sold at Macy’s, which I could afford.
The reader includes a picture of her daughter “standing in front of a couple of Monets at a museum in Boston.” Nice.
A while back, I had an item about a woman who teaches French at Harvard. She regards herself as a “Franco-Michigander.” Indeed, she has written a book called “Michiganaise.” A reader writes,
Dear Jay,
. . . You should know that we Southwestern Ontarians consider ourselves honorary Michiganders (well, most of us: my brother remains a stubborn Leafs fan), and many of us (including me) grew up francophone or bilingual. The French legacy lives on in many street names, and you can always tell where someone is from by how he pronounces the main downtown streets in both cities [Detroit and Windsor]. Detroiters pronounce “Gratiot” to rhyme with “Flash it” while Windsorites retain the French pronunciation. Then there’s Ouellette Avenue. And let’s not get into Pelissier, at all.
You remember Detroit’s original name, don’t you? “Fort Pontchartrain du Détroit.”
In another Impromptus, I wrote,
Do you ever read a newspaper? I mean, do you ever hold one in your hands? I read a paper maybe three times a year. It comes about in two different ways. Papers will be offered on an airplane — especially when the flight is transoceanic. Or a paper will be left at your hotel-room door. When I pick up a paper and read it, I enjoy it, very much, as of old. And I think, “Why don’t I do this more regularly? I think I’ll start.” And I never do.
A reader writes,
Jay, I read three newspapers, made from trees, not on a computer or phone screen, every day and have for many years. I realize I am an outlier, but that’s how I get my news. It is, I believe, how God intended us to get our news!
I believe I’ll return to it one day. (But will it feel like returning to vinyl? I don’t think so.) (Do young people know what “vinyl” refers to? Well, it preceded Spotify.)