#Caldwell E.

[libriaco]

Basta una parola

Scriveva Abatelunare, una decina di giorni fa, che spesso leggendo un libro si imparano delle parole nuove, e faceva riferimento a un toscanismo: costassù, trovato in una vecchia versione de Il ragazzo di Sycamore di Erskine Caldwell.

A me occorre poco, appena una parola, per impantanarmi in una serie di percorsi da cui poi faccio fatica a uscire; così è stato anche questa volta.

Infatti, in sintesi:

Da toscano conosco e uso la parola costassù, così come anche gli altri avverbi costì, costà, costaggiù; ricordo bene come, una decina di anni fa, me ne chiese il significato una collega, di madrelingua inglese, da poco arrivata a Siena.

Più di recente, saranno passati tre o quattro anni, durante una lettura condivisa de La vita agra del grossetano Luciano Bianciardi, le due amiche con cui leggevo, una di origine siciliana ma da anni a Napoli, l'altra veneta, mi chiesero lumi su due strane parole in cui si erano imbattute in quel testo: costì e costassù.

Ho chiesto ad Abatelunare chi avesse tradotto il libro, sospettando appunto un toscano, e mi ha indicato Marcella Hannau. Il mio sospetto era ben fondato, anche se non corretto, perchè la Hannau era nata a Trieste ma ha avuto frequentazione lunga e anche intima con la Toscana.

Le ricerche fatte mi hanno portato subito in ambiente fiorentino; la Hannau, traduttrice dall'inglese di oltre una settantina di libri, figlia di uno stakholder della Standard Oil, di famiglia ebraica, sposò molto giovane [nel 1921] Corrado Pavolini, nato a Firenze: regista, drammaturgo, critico letterario, poeta, librettista e traduttore. Corrado era figlio del professor Paolo Emilio, traduttore e docente universitario di Sanscrito, nato a Livorno da padre dell'isola d'Elba. La coppia frequentava l'ambiente culturale italiano del tempo: ci sono ad esempio foto degli anni '30, sulla spiaggia di Castiglioncello, sempre in Toscana (Livorno) in compagnia di Luigi Pirandello, Nicola De Pirro, Marta Abba, Maria Stella Labroca e Silvio D'Amico; le due famiglie, Hannau e Pavolini, frequentavano spiaggia, locali e ville di amici nella zona, già dalla fine degli anni 10 dello scorso secolo.

Corrado Pavolini era il fratello del gerarca fascista Alessandro, Ministro della Cultura Popolare e segretario del Partito Fascista.

Alessandro si rifiutò di aiutare il fratello e la cognata Marcella nel momento della promulgazione delle leggi razziali e Corrado e Marcella scapparono a Cortona (Arezzo) rifugiandosi nella villa dell'amico Debenedetti. A Cortona trovarono un buon nascondiglio anche gli Hannau, i genitori di Marcella, a cui offrì riparo il Vescovo, Monsignor Franciolini, direttamente nella sua abitazione.

Cortona piacque così tanto alla coppia Pavolini-Hannau che fecero della villa "del Bacchino" un loro punto di riferimento a guerra finita e poi, dal 1961, la loro residenza. Ecco come, con tutte queste frequentazioni toscane, la Hannau abbia potuto utilizzare parole ancora in uso nell'italiano del tempo, adesso segnalate dalla Treccani come semplici "toscanismi" vista la loro odierna più ristretta circolazione.

Restano da citare, in questi miei giri intorno alla coppia, due notiziuole "rosa": l'infatuazione per Corrado Pavolini, prima da parte di Anna Maria Ortese, poi di una sua carissima amica, Helle Busacca. [Interessante e rivelatrice questa pagina di Dario Biagi]. Su questo ramo della ricerca mi sono fermato, perché infiniti altri percorsi mi si sono aperti, relativi ai personaggi della cultura italiana dell'epoca e dei loro rapporti di amicizia, rivalità od odio.

Nonostante le ricerche sul web, non sono riuscito a trovare informazioni certe sulle date di nascita e di morte di Marcella Hannau; ho pensato allora di utilizzare il Copilot di Microsoft Bing. L'Inintelligenza Artificiale si è data da fare ma le date che cercavo non me le ha recuperate; in compenso ha tratteggiato un profilo, sintetico ma efficace, del marito Corrado. Peccato, però, che, da brava Inintelligenza, si sia confusa e abbia scritto i dati relativi ad Alessandro Pavolini, il gerarca titolare del MinCulPop e Segretario del Partito Nazionale Fascista, che fu processato per collaborazionismo, fucilato e poi esposto, insieme a Mussolini e alla Petacci, a Piazzale Loreto...

*Aggiornamento del 29/03/2024: Corrado Pavolini e Marcella Hannau riposano ora l'uno accanto all'altra nel piccolo cimitero del Torreone al sommo della collina di Cortona.

[derangedrhythms]

E. K. Caldwell, Passionate Hearts: The Poetry of Sexual Love; from ‘Love Poem’, ed. Wendy Maltz

[the-gershomite]

The Savage Sword of Conan the Barbarian #27 -March 1978-

Conan the Syndicated: article

Shadow of the White Wolf: article by Fred Blosser

The Reader's Robert E. Howard

"Conan and the Flying Lizard" art by Robert F. Walters

"Conan as Chieftain of Hill Tribe" art by Ivan Saxby

"Conan, Girl, and Dragon" art by Clyde Caldwell

"Conan in the Crypt" art by Jeff Easley

[politicaldilfs]

Florida Governor DILFs

Bob Graham, Bob Martinez, Jeb Bush, Charley Eugene Johns, W. Haydon Burns, LeRoy Collins, Buddy MacKay, C. Farris Bryant, Claude R. Kirk Jr., Doyle E. Carlton, Millard Caldwell, Fuller Warren, Rick Scott, Daniel T. McCarty, Wayne Mixson, Reubin Askew, Lawton Chiles, Charlie Crist

[nfcomics]

SAVAGE SWORD OF CONAN no.4 • cover art • Ben Caldwell [Aug 2024]

[obeisnce]

tag dump ┊MUSE TAGS PT. 2!

[mygrowingcollection]

William E. Caldwell

[siryl]

The cover for the 1982 Timescape edition of The Voyage of the Space Beagle.

Clyde Caldwell

[stone-stars]

Transcript:

Murph, mid thought: --it's like, you can keep the stakes up without… Caldwell: M-hm? Murph: … are you coming up with a new? [Everyone else laughs.] Murph: E--Emily's face was right up against the mic. Smirking? Caldwell: Are you-- Emily: (defensive) I wasn't gonna say anything! Murph: I guess came up with a new spell? Caldwell: You gotta say it now! Murph: Well what do you-- how are we supposed to look at you and not respond? [Emily groans.] Jake: Say it. Murph: What was your new spell? Emily: I turned Geas into peas. [The others laugh.] Murph: (laughing) You turned… Geas… into peas. [Emily laughs.] Caldwell: That's so good. Every time you disobey, peas come out of your mouth. Murph: Peas come out of your mouth when you-- when you say the wrong-- Emily: (defensive) I wasn't planning on sharing! Murph: (laughing) Okay. [Jake laughs.] Emily: Murph called me out! Murph: This is a show! You have to share! [Emily and Caldwell laugh] By definition! It's a show, you have to show! Caldwell: See-- [Emily continues laughing as they talk.] Murph: You have to show your thoughts! You have to participate! You can't just quietly think of three cases ago, and come up with fun things in your own head! Then smile at them while not commenting while the rest of us speak! Caldwell: Yeah, Emily, we're always thinking Fred Flintstone and his delicious cereal! Murph: Yeah, always. Caldwell: But we're not interjecting constantly with that! Murph: Yeah. Caldwell: Only every fourth or fifth case!

[usafphantom2]

20 August 1947. Major Marion E. Carl, USMC, left, and Commander Turner F. Caldwell, Jr., USN, stands with the record-setting Douglas D-558-I Skystreak, No. 37970, on Muroc Dry Lake.

@ron_eisele via X

[kiwiana-writes]

Kiwiana's Christmas Fics

This was doing the rounds last year, so let's bring it back (and update it) for 2024!

Red, White & Royal Blue

[TBD… coming 2024-12-21 to an AO3 near you]

…

Got a will to win and a Cheshire grin [Alex/Henry; rated E; 4,952 words]

Please find attached the list of collective bargaining agreement breaches reported by the Sports and Recreation Floor in December. As the designated union representative, it is my responsibility to ensure that the rights and interests of our members are protected and upheld, even (or maybe especially) during our busiest time of year. In accordance with the grievance procedure outlined in our collective bargaining agreement, we request that Santa’s Workshop takes immediate corrective action to remedy these breaches. Please set up a meeting at your earliest convenience to discuss these issues further and explore appropriate resolutions. Thank you for your immediate attention to this matter.

All Those Christmas Clichés [Alex/Henry; rated M; 7,500 words]

Daily triple drabbles: snapshots of the lead-up to Christmas 2023.

Schitt's Creek

I see every part of you [David/Patrick; rated M; 1,514 words]

Patrick is a straight-up aficionado when it comes to giving gifts. David has known this from literally day one of their relationship, when he pulled a bunch of tissue paper out of a blue gift bag, looked away from a sentimental receipt in a solid frame and into a pair of earnest eyes, and thought, 'I hate it when Stevie's right.'

How the reindeer loved him [David/Patrick; rated E; 2,178 words]

David wraps an arm around him, hand splayed across his chest to pull him close. “Tell me,” he says quietly. “I want you to dress up as Santa,” Patrick rushes out in one quick breath.

This is all I'm asking for [David/Patrick; rated E; 3,957 words]

But by the time they clean up after the party, and Patrick tactfully offers to take the garbage bags out to the shed to give the Roses a bit of family time, it’s well after eleven and David can only assume all their plans for the evening are out the window. That is, until they turn out of the motel parking lot and instead of Patrick putting his hand on David’s knee like usual it lands halfway up his thigh, fingers tracing absent circles around his inseam, and David realises that at least one part of the plan is still very much on the table.

Dear Santa… [Gen: David, Alexis, Patrick; rated G; 2,191 words]

Letters to Santa, 1987-1997

Do you wanna fuck a snowman? [David/Patrick; rated E; 7,216 words; co-write with @ships-to-sail]

David mimics her stance — and he has to admit, she’s not entirely wrong. In the quickly disappearing light, already blurred a little bit by the still-fallen snow, the snowman does look a little like he has tree trunk thighs and a well-formed ass, rather than being Frosty-shaped. But it’s the best they’re going to do, and David’s toes are officially cold.

I need some Christmas spirit [David/Patrick; rated T; 626 words]

David can handle his alcohol, is the thing. So no, it doesn’t occur to Patrick to warn him.

It probably should have.

Happiest Season

We always walked a very thin line [Abby/Riley, Harper/Abby; rated T; 2,775 words]

The girlfriend — Abby — stumbles over a lie about being Harper's orphan roommate, which… wow. Girl is a bad liar. Riley kind of wants to take her by the hand and tell her she’s going to have to get a lot better at that particular skill if she’s going to be in a relationship with Harper Caldwell. She doesn’t though, because it’s not her place and because who knows what, if anything, Harper has told Abby about her?

Tagging @blueeyedgrlwrites @cactusdragon517 @celeritas2997 @cha-melodius @clottedcreamfudge

@cricketnationrise @dumbpeachjuice @everwitch-magiks @firenati0n @getmehighonmagic 

@hgejfmw-hgejhsf @indestructibleheart @inexplicablymine @lilythesilly 

@myheartalivewrites @nontoxic-writes @notspecialbabe @orchidscript 

@piratefalls @rmd-writes @sherryvalli @sparklepocalypse @stereopticons 

@thesleepyskipper @thighzp @tintagel-or-cockleshells @welcometololaland @whimsymanaged and, as always, anyone who wants to play! 

[rhactividades]

LA INAUGURACIÓN DEL LABERINTO DE RAVEN'S HEART CLUB: CIERRE DE ACTIVIDAD.

Tras varias horas de intrincados recorridos, giros y callejones sin salida, el primer participante en salir del laberinto fue Yuxin Zhou. El público estalló en aplausos y vítores, reconociendo no solo su agudeza para encontrar la salida, sino también su capacidad para enfrentarse a lo inesperado. Los camareros, que seguían circulando entre los asistentes, ahora se detuvieron en su ruta para ofrecerle un brindis, y los murmullos de asombro se transformaron en felicitaciones.

Poco a poco, otros participantes comenzaron a emerger del laberinto, algunos con una sonrisa satisfecha, otros visiblemente frustrados. Para aquellos que no lograron encontrar la salida por sí mismos, un equipo de asistentes del club entró para guiarlos con discreción, ofreciéndoles la ayuda que necesitaban para completar el desafío.

Una vez todos estuvieron afuera, el presidente Astor Caldwell, con una sonrisa orgullosa, se acercó al micrófono nuevamente.

—¡Un brindis por nuestro ganador! —exclamó, levantando su copa hacia Yuxin Zhou. —Este premio, como ya les había dicho antes, es algo muy especial. El laberinto llevará el apellido de la familia Zhou de ahora en adelante. Un verdadero honor para la familia, que será inmortalizada en estos jardines. —Una pausa dramática, seguida de un gesto hacia el cielo gris, como si estuviera celebrando algo más grande. —Y, por supuesto, hay más: Yuxin, tendrás una cena en uno de los restaurantes más exclusivos en Lautersee, propiedad de la familia Baek, con el mejor chef de la región. El restaurante, cerrado solo para ti y para quien tú elijas como tu acompañante. Ah, y no olvidemos que el chef tiene nada menos que dos estrellas Michelin. ¡Un premio más que merecido!—

Un segundo estallido de aplausos recorrió el jardín, la atmósfera vibraba con la emoción del momento. El presidente levantó su copa para anunciar el brindis, pero en ese instante, algo inesperado ocurrió.

De repente, varios meseros aparecieron, cada uno con una bandeja cuidadosamente equilibrada, trayendo sobres de un tamaño un tanto inusual. Los sobres no tenían el sello habitual de La Sociedad, sino un símbolo intrigante: un búho. Los invitados, sorprendidos pero intrigados, comenzaron a abrirlos, creyendo que formaban parte del evento organizado. Pero lo que encontraron dentro no era una invitación ni un mensaje común.

El papel era blanco, pero la tinta negra de la escritura parecía especialmente deliberada, como si cada palabra hubiera sido puesta con intención. El mensaje comenzaba de la siguiente manera:

Bienvenidos a Lautersee, hijos de La Sociedad. Sé que muchos de ustedes se sienten cómodos entre estas paredes, pero no se engañen. Yo, aunque por el momento no revelaré mi identidad, soy parte de este círculo, y tengo mis ojos en todos ustedes. Sus secretos, aquellos que creen tan profundamente enterrados, no están tan seguros como piensan. Los susurros llegan a mis oídos, y cada uno de sus movimientos es observado, más de lo que imaginan. No crean que todo está bajo control. Disfruten de su tarde, y recuerden: siempre hay algo más que lo que ven.

Con un último trazo firme, el mensaje terminó. Un silencio incómodo se apoderó del espacio mientras los participantes intercambiaban miradas, aún procesando lo que acababan de leer. ¿Quién había enviado eso? ¿Un juego adicional de Astor o Nikkita? Pero cuando todos dirigieron sus miradas hacia el presidente, notaron algo peculiar: Astor estaba caminando lentamente hacia las instalaciones del Raven's Heart Club, un sobre con el mismo sello del búho en su mano.

Y fue entonces cuando algo más llamó la atención de los presentes. Detrás de Astor, un grupo de figuras mayores comenzó a seguirlo con pasos firmes, aunque sus expresiones delataban una creciente molestia. Los abuelos de las principales familias, siempre tan controlados, mostraban ahora signos de tensión y nerviosismo, intercambiando miradas de preocupación y murmurando entre ellos, aunque con cautela, como si no quisieran que nadie más los escuchara. A medida que Astor se alejaba hacia el club, su marcha era seguida de cerca por estas figuras, cuyas presencias, por lo general imponentes, parecían ahora desconcertadas.

El ambiente cambió de inmediato, la sensación de celebración comenzó a disiparse y una nube de duda flotó sobre los asistentes. Nikkita, observando la atmósfera algo tensa, retomó el micrófono, tratando de recuperar algo del tono festivo que había dominado previamente.

—¡Un aplauso nuevamente para Yuxin Zhou! —dijo, forzando una sonrisa. Pero el aplauso que siguió fue mucho más apagado de lo que se esperaba, como si la emoción ya no estuviera tan presente.

El aire en el lugar estaba impregnado de una extraña inquietud. Las conversaciones entre los invitados eran más discretas, más cuidadosas. Algo había cambiado esa noche, y aunque no todos sabían qué era, todos sentían que algo se estaba cociendo, algo que quizás no podrían ignorar por mucho tiempo.

Un par de horas después, el evento terminó, pero la figura de Astor Caldwell ya no se encontraba en el lugar. Nadie lo volvió a ver esa noche.

OOC.

¡Hola, cuervos! Con esto damos por finalizada la primera actividad del grupal. Esperamos que haya sido de su agrado y que hayan disfrutado de rolearla.

Lo sucedido con los sobres, Astor y los abuelos fue presenciado por todos los personajes. Así que serán libres de hablar de ello en los chats de las familias que estaremos activando en un momento, si así lo desean. Por el momento, no permitiremos chats privados ni otros tipos de grupales.

Son libres de seguir respondiendo sus threads hasta mañana, cuando publiquemos la nueva actividad.

Cualquier duda o pregunta, nuestro buzón y chat privado por Discord están abiertos. ¡Gracias por su atención!

[yama-bato]

Charles E. Burchfield (1893-1967), Sun and Rocks, 1918-50, Watercolor and gouache on joined paper mounted on board, 40 x 56 inches (Enlarged from Song of the Peterbird, 1918, 26 x 19 inches), Buffalo AKG Art Museum, Buffalo, New York, Room of Contemporary Art Fund, 1953, RCA 53:4

[cedar-glade]

I really don’t know Jack still? do you? 

Maybe @spatheandspadix might shed some light on this one.

perhaps y’all have noticed extreme variations in populations of this classic spring plant.

Here is this one:

Narrow spathed, cupped, vibrant color, acuminate  and small. Potentially A. acuminatum???

Ahh yes, a classic to run into while out and about in the forest in May, I still don’t know what subspecies this is and its been in my drafts since like 2016, odd enough I didn’t think this complex would be unresolved this long considering the fact that cernua complex, rudbeckia fulgida complex, and eastern Viola complex(shout outs to Iris Copen and Dr. Harvey Ballard the homies from OU and ODNR/ONAPA) have all had papers since then and so far 3 subspecies have been noted and gone through chromosome analysis and ITS analysis. Non of which are the jack you see above.

Jack in the Pulpit is an incredibly variable and diverse complex/sect. that we see often enough. Morphological variants and subspecies are very noticeable when they occur due to multiple characteristics such as soil specific populations and floral ridges, dwarf like traits, or tapering like you see above. 

Flora of the south eastern USA states this:

“ A genus of about 150-170 species, of Asia, e. North America, e. Africa, and Arabia. Infrageneric taxonomy follows Ohi-Toma et al. (2016). The taxa of the Arisaema triphyllum complex have been variously treated as species, subspecies, varieties, and forms. They are here treated as species with relatively subtle morphological distinctions; they are broadly sympatric, and sometimes occur together in mixed populations with little sign of introgression or hybridization and seem to behave as biological species. Arisaema quinatum (mixed leaved jack) has often been treated as a full species and seems to warrant that status. Arisaema stewardsonii (big ridged hooded bog jack) seems amply distinct in morphology, northern distribution, and boggy habitat. Arisaema triphyllum (common jack) is tetraploid and does not produce fertile seed when crossed with the other (diploid) taxa, including A. pusillum (dwarf alkaline Jack), with which it is broadly sympatric (Treiber 1980).  The size (though diploid), strongly attenuated spathe apex, and geographic integrity seem good reason to accord A. acuminatum (narrow pointed long spathe jack) species status as well.  Species concepts in this treatment largely follow the review by Wyatt & Stoneburner (2022).”

All of this said we still have outliers like this one.

Opening like rich mesic hillside, overall alkaline.  Caldwell NP, Cincinnati Parks, Cincinnati Ohio.

[micahweissberg]

"heh, yeah." he huffs. he doesn't think listening to hip-hop is as an impressive of a feat as she makes it sound. he was a little jewish boy in a predominantly white suburb in manhattan in the early 2000s who thought he had enough comedic talent to aspire to make a career out of it — of course his bar mitzvah playlist was hip-hop hall of fame! "born and raised." he doesn't hesitate to answer her question; she'd shared her origins, after all. "yeah, it's a... complicated relationship, i guess you could say. but yeah, i have gigs here. mostly in chicago. still trying to get a feel of the blue harbor crowd." he's mostly been trying not to do any bulls vs. knicks material for the sake of his and his family's safety.

and speaking of basketball, "no, way! that's so cool. you must've started out early, then." another way of saying she looks young to be an agent, but that's not a bad thing, per se. "anyone from the clippers? or is that on a need-to-know basis?" is there such a thing as agent-client confidentiality? those things are public, right? "but yeah... yeah, i can imagine. all that drama, too, huh? bet the money was good, though." you can't put a price on mental health, his therapist used to say. maybe the money paled in comparison to whatever had happened to bring her back to blue harbor.

he laughs at her assumption, the sound piercing through the chilly morning air. "yeah, actually, how'd you know?" which isn't entirely a lie. without naming names, he was allowed to use some of the cases as material when he isn't busy milking the whole child of divorce schtick. resting his elbow against the top railing, he glances towards the river, shakes his head. "nah, it's a family thing." he adds in a more somber tone, but garnishes the statement with a smile as he watches the distant shore on the other side of the river. "which is the joke, actually. but..." he sighs and, without warning, hoists himself up on the railing, keeping his core tight to balance his six-foot self up with his feet firmly on the bottom crossbar. "i'm also finishing law school, so. it's as good a place to learn as any. gotta have a fallback. y'know, in case the comedy thing doesn't work out." he returns his gaze towards the brunette. "did you have a fallback?"

"No shit," Lainey said, impressed. Serves her right for making an assumption. "That's pretty cool of you," she admitted with a smile. "You're from New York?" Since they were getting to know each other and all, it felt like a fair question. Lainey raised a brow at the other's nervous laughter, not understanding why he was being so weird about it... until he said he was a comedian. "You don't sound very sure about that," Lainey pointed out with a chuckle. "You do shows in town or something?"

They were now treading in dangerous waters. It's not like Lainey was keeping her royal screw-up under lock and key-- you could google her name and find it pretty quickly-- but she hadn't even told CJ yet. How shitty would it be to confide in her nameless running buddy before her best friend? "I was a sports agent, mostly basketball," Lainey explained, eyeing him when he pressed her on the Blue Harbor front. "Needed a break, shit's stressful," she said, decisively.

Lainey nodded, though she wasn't entirely convinced by the impressive list he rattled off. "So... forgive me, but what's a comedian doing in a law office? Gathering content for jokes?" she cracked a smile to show that she, too, was joking.