Impromptus today is about sundry things, which is that column’s job (usually). I begin with the reopening of Notre-Dame Cathedral, go to the Ritchie Boys (those superb World War II spies), proceed with our next FBI director, Kash Patel, and so on. To give it a spin, go here.

Yesterday, I read an obit in the New York Times, by Brian Seibert, a dance critic: “Arlene Croce, Dance Critic With a Biting Wit, Dies at 90.” The subheading of the obit is: “Writing for The New Yorker, she was both admired and feared, wielding a sometimes merciless pen. Her study of Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers drew accolades.”

One paragraph of the obit reads as follows:

In the 1960s, Ms. Croce wrote criticism for the publications Film Culture and Film Quarterly and was also a writer and editor for the conservative magazine National Review. There, she shared pages with Joan Didion, Garry Wills and other writers who, like Ms. Croce, would become star contributors to liberal publications like The New York Review of Books.

Yes. WFB had a great appreciation for writing talent (one of the themes of my forthcoming piece on him). Whether your subject was politics, dance, or tiddlywinks, if you could write, he was interested in you. This rubbed some people the wrong way, but we might talk about that some other time.

(Do you know the Bernstein song “Some Other Time”? Here is Eileen Farrell singing it, with the composer at the piano.)

John Leonard, too, was a writer at NR. Very late in Bill’s life, he asked Leonard to come see him that very day (as I recall). Leonard said he could not — deadlines were pressing. Bill said, “Come anyway.” Leonard did. Bill told me this with some gravity. I don’t know what they discussed. I think Bill just wanted to see him, one last time.

They both died in 2008, WFB in February, John Leonard in November.

Here is a paragraph from the Wikipedia entry on Leonard:

A political leftist, Leonard had an unlikely early patron in conservative leader William F. Buckley, who gave him his first job in journalism at National Review magazine in 1959. There, he worked alongside such young talents as Joan Didion, Garry Wills, Renata Adler and Arlene Croce.

An impressive stable. I met Renata Adler at the Buckleys’ once. She was in her 60s but still had her distinctive long braid. Beautiful woman, elegant pen.

I could go on, but will go on in that forthcoming piece I mentioned (about WFB). Maybe we could have a dose of mail now.

In recent weeks, I have been writing, and publishing letters, about standing ovations (in particular, their ubiquitousness). A reader says,

Dear Mr. Nordlinger:

. . . a wonderful memory came to mind.

My technique to rapidly adjust to “local” time wherever, was to book a flight arriving in the early afternoon so that I could eat dinner and then find a concert hall for some classical music.

Once coming to Kuala Lumpur I saw that Sir Colin Davis was conducting the national orchestra, and a good performance it was.

The next morning, still acclimatizing, I jumped in the pool and who popped up next to me? Sir Colin Davis! I thanked him for keeping me awake and a little while later we enjoyed a cup of tea.

I mentioned I had seen him conducting the L.A. Philharmonic a month before. “Ah, Los Angeles,” he said. “They have perfected the Standing Evacuation.”

Fantastic.

A regular correspondent wrote me on December 6:

Just wanted to say that today is Finnish Independence Day. Which means it is time to crank up Finlandia by Sibelius, have a pasty for lunch, and tell demeaning Swedish jokes. Which is defined as a Tuesday in the U.P.

Ha! (“U.P.,” for you non-Michiganders, stands for “Upper Peninsula.”) My thanks to all readers and correspondents.