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This witty wonder may be for you My literary almanac tells me that on this day in 1854, Oscar O’Flahertie Fingal Wills Wilde was born in Dublin, Ireland. Wilde, once the toast of venues as varied as London, England and Deadwood, S.D.
Kevin Alderson is a retired high school history teacher over in LaFarge.
Twenty years ago, when I was made book review editor of the Minneapolis Star Tribune, I wrote a column in which I described to my readers what kind of books and authors I liked and didn’t care for, so they would know my prejudices from the get-go. In one paragraph, I mentioned that I was a fan of T.S. Eliot’s poetry. My boss, the managing editor, a New York City transplant, called me in. He said — and I swear this is true — “Dave, I know who T.S. Eliot is and you know who T.S.
I grew up not knowing much about Wendell Willkie, for I was only four in 1940 when he ran against Franklin Roosevelt for the presidency. I knew that because of his rural Indiana background, wags called him “the barefoot boy from Wall Street.” I also knew that my father had voted for him, as he also did for Thomas E. Dewey, Dwight Eisenhower, Richard Nixon. He only voted for a Democrat once. “I voted for Jimmy Carter,” said my dad.