Giving...Up and In
This column is my holiday gift to those who have hinted for, politely requested,
or angrily demanded a mea culpa. In some instances, I owe it. At other
times, it’s a gift I offer in the “spirit of the season” (i.e.
begrudgingly—the same feeling one gets paying full retail just because
it’s December and the discount stores are mobbed). So, without further
ado, here are my parcels of apology.
To the publicist who insisted that I retract an inaccuracy in the recent profile
of Rob Thomas and his wife, Marisol (October, 2008), here you go: We recently
reported that Rob Thomas had a son by a previous marriage. This is not, in fact,
wholly accurate. His publicist wants it known that he was never married to the
mother of his child. We regret the error.
To our indefatigable copy editor, Janet Blake, who suggested that we go with
“restaurateur” and not “restauranteur,” no matter how
“funny” I thought the former looked. She was right. Even though
I cited references that both were acceptable, it turns out that most readers
don’t want a lecture on etymology—they just want to see the word
spelled “restaurateur.” So, to Janet, I offer my profound apology.
She’s far too polite to ask for one.
To songstress Ann Hampton Callaway, “keeper-of-the-flame of the great
American songbook,” who I mistakenly identified (although thankfully,
neither in print nor in her presence), as the daughter of Cab Calloway, famed
scat singer, jazz artist, and bandleader. To a philistine like me, it didn’t
seem like much of a stretch. Perhaps Ann could simplify my life by just adding
“Minnie the Moocher” to the great American songbook? I’d also
like to take this opportunity to ask Robert De Niro and Al Pacino to consider
consolidating their identities. For reasons perhaps best left unexplored, I
keep confusing them—a situation that was not at all helped by their recent
appearance together in the movie Righteous Kill. The apology, in this
instance, goes to my husband who finds watching movies with me exceedingly painful.
Speaking of painful, I’d like to apologize to Dr. Andrew Kleinman, the
Rye Brook plastic surgeon who has been included for years in our annual “Most
Distinguished Doctors” article (October, 2008). He moved and we printed
the wrong phone number—twice. For the record, it’s 253-0700. Dr.
Kleinman, now that we’ve got that straight, I hope you like your current
office because you’re not allowed to move again.
To our creative director, George, and the art staff. I’d like to apologize
for being short when your layout called for long, and verbose when you wanted
succinct. I’m still figuring out Adobe InCopy and its peculiar features
(“It’s under! It’s over! It’s off by three letters,
so can you think of a shorter word for ‘short’?”) If it’s
any consolation, I’m getting much faster at the Sunday crossword puzzle.
In sum, if I’ve wronged you this year, please consider this your official
apology. And if I’ve done you a good turn by putting out an attractive
magazine that informed, entertained, or turned you on to something great (you
did see our Fall Arts Preview in September, right?), please think of it as a
deposit in the bank of good will. There’s some saying about this season
and “good will toward men” but I’m not going to repeat it
here. I’m sure I’d paraphrase it inaccurately and I’m only
good for so many apologies.
Catherine Censor,
Editor-in-Chief
