First of all, Caleb Madison is brilliant. Sunday puzzles, pure genius, and he’s about four years old. Amazing. I just want to say that part now. Because I’m about to talk about a handful of crossings in today’s puzzle that made me kinda cranky, but I want to make it clear that I think Caleb is a genius. And personable. We need to get him on the podcast one of these days. I so enjoyed meeting him at the ACPT. Right now, if I had to put money down on who I think could possibly be Will Shortz’s eventual replacement at the New York Times, I might put that money on Caleb Madison. But only if he gets a haircut and grows a mustache. Caleb, get to work on that.
Okay, let’s get the theme and cleverness covered. The puzzle is called “A Stately Garden,” and in the long entries, some letters are circled. The clues each end with a state name in brackets (I guess to make it clear that the states are not part of the clues?), and ultimately, what I think happens is that the circled letters spell out the state flowers. I don’t know anything about state flowers, so Caleb could be mixing up states and flowers and I’d never know the difference.
Unless he cited Maine. The state flower for my home state of Maine is the pine cone. (Here, I lower my head in shame, sigh dejectedly, and mutter, “oh lord” under my breath. The pine cone? Don’t we already have it tough enough in Maine, with our one-syllable name and our lobster obsession? We need our flower to be a horrible lump of who-knows-what that serves no purpose except to clog up the lawn mower?)
23A: Five works of Mozart [Rhode Island] : VIOLIN CONCERTOS [VIOLET]
29A. Not completely settle an argument [New York] : AGREE TO DISAGREE [ROSE]. Unrelated to this puzzle, I hate this phrase. It’s in the language, so it’s totally great for a puzzle, but in real life, I hate it. Agree to disagree? Whoever says that is bascially saying, “You’re wrong, but I’m going to be the so-called bigger person here, and take the so-called high road where I get to be all superior over you for agreeing to something, whereas you still hate my opinions. However, since I’m the agreeing one, I’m the good guy, even though what I’m agreeing to is not seeing eye-to-eye — yes, I’m basically putting you in a horrible position of having to either continue to defend your cause (since I’ve abandoned the battle) or give in to my cunning little games. I win, you lose, everyone hates you and thinks I’m smart now. Ha ha ha.” Yes, that’s what the phrase means to me.
48A. “Revelation” choreographer [Utah] : ALVIN AILEY [LILY]. There are only two choreographers in crosswords. The other is Twyla Tharp. Go ahead, name a third one. Also, this was the entry during which I had my “aha!” moment. I think I may have even said it out loud.
58A. Trial hearing? [Indiana] : EXPERT TESTIMONY [PEONY]
68A. It’s never made with plastic [Ohio] : CASH TRANSACTION [CARNATION]. Somehow, I never looked at the circles here. I had, as circles were concerned, –RNUTION for the flower. Yes, a U. I thought this entry ended with SUCTION. Only when I angrily decided that 75A. Public squares in ancient Greece was AGORAE instead of AGORAS, and therefore saw 65D. Gets ready for a date, perhaps was PREENS, only then did I get TRANSACTIONS (and not TRANSUCTIONS, which isn’t anything). Can I ask now — AGORAE? Isn’t the A-to-AE pluralization a Latin thing? What were the Greeks doing with it?
82A. Country singer with the #1 album and single “Killin’ Time” [New Hampshire] : CLINT BLACK [LILAC].
95A. He played a Nazi in “Marathon Man” and a Nazi hunter in “The Boys from Brazil” [Connecticut] : LAURENCE OLIVIER [LAUREL].
108A. “Bye Bye Birdie” tune [California] : PUT ON A HAPPY FACE [POPPY]. No one ever rose to my challenge the other day about songs from Kismet. Let’s lower the bar a little — can anyone who isn’t Dan Feyer or Amanda Yesnowitz tell me another song title from “Bye Bye Birdie”?
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