Punctuation Day. Period.

After this weekend, autumn is officially upon us (it began on Saturday), so prepare for lots of Fall-related Reports.  Decorative Gourd's are already popping-up in grocery stores, so it can only be a matter of time...

But first, a disgruntled and impatient reader sent me an e-mail earlier this morning alerting me that today is National Punctuation Day.  This reader had some choice uses for punctuation marks, which I won't repeat here for the sake of decency.  But (and I'm sure this won't be good for keeping his ego at a reasonable level) he has influenced the Report for the day.  I am, after all, a Technical Editor by trade.  My missing Punctuation Day would be like an elf not celebrating Christmas.

To celebrate this glorious grammarian day, here are some useful and comical pointers on punctuation use.  First up, some classics from The Oatmeal on "How To Use an Apostrophe" and "How To Use a Semicolon."  The grammar lessons of middle school would have been so much more interesting with these examples.  These, of course, are two mysterious pieces of punctuation that are often the subject of question, self-doubt, and second guessing.  Another piece of punctuation, used in the last sentence, is a subject of much debate:  The Oxford Comma (also known as the serial comma).

The Oxford Comma, most famous for its title role in a Vampire Weekend song, is a contentious piece of punctuation.  In fact, the first question of my interview for my current position asked how I felt about the Oxford Comma.  If it is unclear by my consistent use of it in the Report, I'm for it, just as the sandwich club is for frilly toothpicks.  Others are opposed.  The New York Times, for instance, doesn't use them.  Some argue that maintaining use of the Oxford Comma is simply being a slave to historic grammatical convention, just like the type-writer imposed two spaces after a period that is not relevant in a computer-font world.  This, as NPR's blogger Linda Holmes observes, is not the case.  As you can see from this comic, the Oxford Comma is fundamentally important in reducing ambiguity.  Please embrace it.  Or respond with a compelling argument for the opposition.

Along with celebrating the Oxford Comma and other pieces of punctuation, there are numerous options for birthday celebrations of note.  Readers could...

• Have a Coke and a Smile for Mean Joe Greene;
• Play the music and light the lights for Jim Henson; or
• Believe in the green light for F. Scott Fitzgerald.

Peace, love, and Oxford Commas

What We Missed

Remember the Report?  Or did you open your inbox yesterday evening and go, "Hello, what's this? Junk mail?"  We're back!  And unlike that July 31 claim that the "Report Rises," when we lasted shorter than Bane without his mask (Maybe? What would have happened there? It would have been extremely painful, I guess) this time we're back for the long haul.

What changed?  Well, in the first place, things really picked up at work, so I had to freeze production rather than rather than reduce quality.  Things are still busy at work, but I'm able to bring things back now, because this weekend, I completed my two major summer projects.  (Both in the same 24 hours.)  First, I completed my reading of all of Michael Chabon's published books.  (Eventually I'll tackle the uncollected stuff, too.)  3601 pages later, that's done, and I'm now reading his newest novel, Telegraph Avenue, albeit at a casual, leisurely pace.  I also completed the script for my children's theater play, "To the Moon," a science-fiction adventure set in 1962, featuring a circus, space pirates, and a Space Race.  For NH readers, there will be reminders forthcoming about the show's October premiere.
 
So, with those projects out of the way, I now plan on preparing the Morning Reports the night before they go out.  (It's sort of like a print report in that regard.)  This way I can keep the quality high in both my Report and my work.  But now, to business.  Specifically the business of considering what could have been.
 
It's frustrating to look back on all the time-appropriate internet findings that I've missed the window of distribution on.  No doubt you saw many of them yourselves.  But let us take this Report to focus on the Reports that Never Were:

The Olympics

How could I have missed these?  I could have offered reflections on the pomp and absurdity of the opening and closing ceremonies.  Discussed my awe at the gymnasts... Particularly at the fact that when the cameras zoom out, you remember all of a sudden that they are so very tiny.  And I would no doubt have complained about the fact that I can't link you to video without NBC kindly requesting that I never report again.  And imagine the number of time-delayed broadcast jokes I could have made about late reports.  We would have seen it in gifs discussed by number (ohmygosh #3 still).  And we would have collectively made a significant increase in the borderline NSFW links to Tom Daley.  But now the Olympics have passed, I missed my opportunity, and I can imagine the look on all your faces.

The Political Conventions

You may recall that I preface all political discussions with a notice on how I try to avoid politics on the Report, but certain items here could not have been avoided.  Well, no, really just one.  Because I could have provided in-depth discussions of these.  And these. (Some overlap, I know.)  And this. 

But now, it is all but too late.  The ship has sailed.

And now it is after Labor Day.  Summer is over.  I know, not because of the calendar, and certainly not because Starbucks insists in pressuring me into their pie-in-a-cup-and-just-as-many-calories Pumpkin Spice Latte.  I know because of the way the world felt this morning, when I left for work in a jacket without sweating through it.  As this NPR reflection on the beginning of fall discusses, it's "just a hint of a change, a certain kind of coolness and the color of the light, but you know it as soon as it hits."  And it has hit, dear reader.  To err is human, to er is autumnal: September, October, November, cider, sweater...

 

Autumn has arrived, the Report has returned, and I, Dear Readers, could not be happier.

Mourning Report: King of All Wild Things

In the last edition of the Report, I discussed my online music time travel adventures.  One reader used my Lady Marmalade reference to follow a train of thought about one marmalade loving Paddington Bear.  He notes, though, that Paddington's Wikipedia page does nothing to bring to mind the adorable children's book character of memory.  First, there's that creepy statue picture, then there's the description:  "Paddington is an anthropomorphised bear... from Deepest, Darkest Peru, with his old hat, battered suitcase, duffle coat."  We would be wise to follow Jon's advice:  If anything matching that description turned up in Paddington Station... Call the police immediately... See something, say something.

Today's report also focuses on a legendary figure of children's literature, as we reflect on the passing of Maurice Sendak.  Though Sendak wrote and/or illustrated over 100 books during his career, readers no doubt remember him most for the classics Where the Wild Things Are and In the Night Kitchen. Anyone familiar with my wardrobe or bookshelf will know that I am a huge fan of Where the Wild Things Are, owning three t-shirts based on the book, the book itself, and two copies of Dave Eggers' novel adaptation  (One fur covered, one not).  For today's report, I felt it would be appropriate to compile some of my favorite Sendak (or tangentially related) web items.

First, a trailer for the Spike Jonze's film adaptation.  I admit it, this is what sparked my resurgence of Sendak enthusiasm.  I also admit that I have watched that trailer more than any other movie preview ever in my life.  Furthermore, I think it might be better than the film itself, though the film has some beautiful and poignant moments that don't make the two minute cut.  Still, the wondrous visuals, the Arcade Fire soundtrack, and the "Inside All of Us" tag-line led to months of giddy anticipation.  And as long as I'm admitting things, I went to that movie alone at 11:00 AM on opening day, after having stayed up all night writing an English paper.  That's how much the trailer worked on me.  (And as long as we're doing tangential stories, Max Records, who stars as Max, is also featured in the opening of Rian Johnson's phenomenal The Brothers Bloom, an opening that can really stand as it's own short film.)

Spike Jonze wasn't the first one who saw screen potential in Sendak's famous book, though.  Disney once owned the adaptation rights to the book, but never brought it to theaters.  The idea was used, though, in some very early testing of 3D computer animation.  This 1983 test animation was spearheaded by none other than John Lasseter, now Chief Creative Officer at Pixar and Disney Animation Studios, and director of Pixar's first three films.  It is no coincidence that a writer and artist that so respects the children that are viewed has his primary audience once inspired the early work of a filmmaker whose studio does the same.

Finally, some interviews.  Of course, Stephen Colbert's highly entertaining interview in two parts is worth a view.  As is this 2004 interview with Bill Moyers.  The real great ones, though, are on NPR.  Throughout his career, Sendak had several conversations (they can hardly be called interviews, they are so comfortable) with Terry Gross, and NPR has conveniently compiled them on one remembrance page.  His reflections here are beautiful, but I advise against listening to them at work, unless you are comfortable with your coworkers seeing you cry.  (This is especially true for the most recent interview.)  If there is any quote worth pulling here, though, it is one NPR has already pulled and bolded:  "I have nothing now but praise for my life. I'm not unhappy. I cry a lot because I miss people. They die and I can't stop them. They leave me and I love them more... What I dread is the isolation... There are so many beautiful things in the world which I will have to leave when I die, but I'm ready, I'm ready, I'm ready."  I find comfort in knowing this.  We ate him up, we loved him so.  And as one reader of the report has observed, that may mean he's still alive.

And, having eaten him up, may we be like Maurice:  Creative, honest, perseverant, and respectful of children...

And may we also be like Max:  Unafraid to make mischief, courageous enough to sail off through night and day, and brave enough to tame our wild things...

And when we grow lonely and tire of the wild rumpus, may we always have a place to go where someone loves us best of all...

And when we get there, may we find our supper waiting for us... still hot.

 

Til tomorrow, reporting from the desk where the filed things are,

~Evan