of today’s inaugural festivities:
- The huge smile worn by Yo-Yo Ma as he played with the quartet;
- The excitement on my colleagues’ faces when the subject matter of our job made it into the inaugural address; and
- The solemnity with which the whole occasion was observed by over 200 of my coworkers. Although I didn’t know most of those in the room, for an hour this morning, we were united in the hope for a better future.
Last week, the NYT let a councilman from Nashville get away with claiming that he was supportive of an English-only initiative in Nashville because, among other things, he didn’t think it was right for legislative offices to be able to use interpreters, “like they do in California.” The NYT seems neither to have checked the veracity of his statement nor pressed him on why he thought it was true.
Today, the NYT corrects itself.
An article last Sunday about an effort in Nashville to prohibit the government from using languages other than English included an incorrect statement from Councilman Eric Crafton of Nashville, the chief supporter of the city’s plan, about the California State Legislature. The Legislature has never had members who needed the proceedings translated into English for them. (Mr. Crafton, contacted after a reader alerted The Times, said he recalled seeing a story about such translators on television, but could not provide specifics or documentation for his claim.)
I’ve always yelled at them. I yell, because I’m a yeller. I’m a yeller, and so I yell. My voice gets so hoarse it sounds like tires crunching over gravel. During the season, I go through economy-sized packages of throat lozenges.
Last week I watched Tennessee look like it was going to be blown out by Rutgers in a womens’ basketball game. I wanted to hide when faced with the mere thought of what Pat Summitt would sound like in the locker room at halftime. Later in the week, as I read the foregoing quote in her book Raise the Roof, I learned I was probably right.