Grammar Yammer

John Simon, the pugnacious and astute grammarian, writes: Is anything more parlous than the state of our beloved mother tongue? Well, not mine actually [Simon was was born in Yugoslavia], but at any rate stepmother tongue. It may be a kind of haughtiness, but I wince whenever I encounter an offense against grammar, spelling or pronunciation. If only it weren't considered bad manners to correct someone else's speech or writing, things would still be bearable; but nowadays, instead of thanks, you might get a punch in the nose. 

In no way do I put myself in the same class as Simon (well, except maybe the pugnacious part!). However, I do believe our language is being dumbed-down on a daily basis, *ANGAS. Read on to discover a few of the latest language missteps I've come across.

I read the following in a monthly magazine: "When children start learning about [blank] at an early age they better understand ... ." Does this mean "children darn well better understand!" or, "children understand better"? 

Another article in the same publication stated, "The average professor's salary is ... ," I couldn't help but wonder what the above-average professor's salary might be!

An item in our local newspaper touting a new ethnic restaurant stated, "... the menu was built around ... recipes for street food he'd picked up while visiting [a foreign country]." I immediately thought of this restaurant owner literally picking food scraps off the street and crafting recipes from them! 

How about this one? In the same paper, a reporter wrote about a neighborhood burglary: "...some items she knew belonged to her neighbor, in tow." Poor neighbor, robbed and then towed! 

A recent review of a local medical office states the practice was "...established in 1968 and has been in business until now." I interpreted that statement to mean the business had closed. Not so. 

                      ...all I know about grammar is its power.
                                     ~Joan Didion, author

If I broach friends with word and sentence twists such as these, their sometimes dismissive comment is, "Well, you know what the writer meant."

True enough. Although, because my mind will have veered toward focusing on what I deem an oddly worded statement, it may take some time to get back into the swing of what I'm reading. 

Oh, about that word "broach." Have any of you noticed how often "broach" is used when the speaker is referring to a brooch, a pin for a woman's blouse or jacket? Actually, after polling a few friends, I've come to understand that this pronunciation is regional (as is adding an "s" to toward and anyway).  

How many times have you heard people say something is not their "forte" and pronounce it as "for-tay"? This mispronunciation has become so wide-spread that it's almost an acceptable variation. The fact is there are two "fortes" in English, each with a different pronunciation. Forte/for-tay means "strong" or "loud" and is usually used in a musical context. Forte/fort means "strong point" or "strength." 

Fortuitous originally meant accidental. Due to incorrect but common usage, a second definition of "lucky" is now in our dictionaries. 

A story about a returning veteran and his wife stated they attended "...a recent friend's wedding." Is the person a fairly new friend of the couple or do you suppose the author meant the wedding was recent? 

                   Words are the currency of human discourse

                                                ~Anu Garg

                                                        

There seems to be a huge misunderstanding about the proper use of quotation marks (speaking here of double quote marks). They are appropriate when using nicknames and jargon (or slang), when referring to an artistic work, or to indicate irony. They should not be used as emphasis. 

When I see quote marks used as emphasis in signage it's as though the advertiser is saying, "Well, not really. Just joking." 

With photo and story, an article in today's paper told of an Oregon man who won $5,000 a week forever. A picture of the lucky winner shows him holding a large sign stating this fact. Publisher's Clearing House chose to put quotation marks around the word "forever."

One final gripe. Why do business advertisements often state, "Free Gift"? Isn't a gift always free?

A dear and compassionate friend of mine often says she feels "badly" about something or other. Actually, her sense of touch is just fine—she means she feels "bad" about ... whatever it is. We two laugh about word foibles such as these. Our friendship is such that we understand we can correct or question each other at any time about word usage, spelling or grammar. We both learn something and never feel we have been on the receiving end of a "lesson," or that we have come off as a pedant. 

I am aware of many of my own language missteps and work to correct them, yet I know errors continue to pop up. As I've asked before, please do not hesitate to set me straight or to discuss those errors! If you know me at all, you know I want to learn, I want to understand. 

                                 A man's grammar, like Caeser's wife,

should not only be pure,

but above suspicion of impurity

~Edgar Allan Poe

*And Nobody Gives a S _ _ _!

Don't be a Gobemouche

A few years ago, a Portland attorney wrote a letter to the editor of the Wall Street Journal commenting on an article titled, "When the Boss Is a Screamer.” He makes a distinction between those who yell due to being emotionally unstable and those who yell to make a point.

As an example, he recalls when his commanding officer in the Navy screamed at him and he immediately “…got the message and it worked.”
However, "The ... consensus among managers is that yelling alarms people, drives them away rather than inspiring them, and hurts the quality of their work." 

The attorney ends his letter by stating, “There were many effective screamers when [he] started practicing law. However, the increase in female lawyers changed everything. Men yelled at each other and got over it. Women wouldn’t take it, wouldn’t forget it, and yelling proved so ineffective with them that male lawyers had to change their ways.”
I wonder if he knows just how telling these last words are. Because they are the final comments in his letter, we have no idea what he thinks of this turnaround. However, from his previous statement regarding his reaction to the commanding officer, my sense is he wishes the advent of more women in the profession had not forced the male lawyers “…to change their ways.”  

Most women will listen to calm reasoning and participate in logical, back and forth discussion. However, we will not yield to someone whose only “weapon” is a thundering voice.

I have been on the receiving end of a screamer’s rant—it effectively closed my ears and my mind. In fact, when this has happened the result has been that I feel more empowered, and consider the one yelling to be almost nullified.

The message might have also gotten through to him if it had been delivered with more thoughtfulness and less volume.
In my opinion, there are only a few valid reasons to yell: to warn others of impending danger, call for a wandering child or scream for help.

Re-reading this letter, I thought of the massive amount of political vitriol that continues to bombard us—the hateful and often untrue or taken-out-of-context broadcasts and broadsides which literally, and figuratively, scream at us.

Because facts are skewed and lies are strewn, I tend close my mind and my ears to all of this, no matter which “side” is doing the hollering. 

Instead, using some fairly well-honed, not-yet-perfected, critical thinking skills, I pay attention to deftly and factually worded pieces regarding political issues. Admittedly, this process is more difficult than if I were simply a Gobemouche, believing whoever hollers the loudest. 

When you have the facts on your side, argue the facts.

When you have the law on your side, argue the law.

When you have neither, holler. 

~Al Gore

Reflecting on Mother Earth and Father Time in my Garden

Springtime 2019. One-third of the way through my 82nd year. Another opportunity to plant, to grow. Another season to reflect on, and marvel at, what survived winter's harsh "lessons" and what succumbed. 

Mother Earth continues to show me that being resilient does not mean my plants and I won't show some of the effects of passing seasons. Where there is decay in one area, there is rebirth and renewal in another. 

As the seasons come and go, Father Time perseveres and reveals just how powerful 'he' is. A perennial flower planted seven years ago spread and grew, regaling with vibrant colors of red, orange and brilliant green ... until this year. As I eagerly searched beneath the cool and damp soil for signs of rebirth, I discovered Winter's freezing temperatures had heaved the ground, dug icy fingers deep into the soil, grasped tender roots and dealt a death blow to the plant. Its "time" had come. 

Discovering a dead or dying flower, tree, or shrub, always hurts my heart. I know this is the way life, all life,  is. I understand there are not only natural cycles of life, but there are events, circumstances, happenings, over which we have no control. Still, I ache. 

However, as with the now-dead, much-loved perennial, I know the energy which sustained the plant has simply taken a new form and is now, possibly, feeding the roots of the newly planted.

We do as much to sustain ourselves as our human energy and attention allows: we make adjustments to our lifestyles, we read and delve and explore options to enhance our lives. And yet ... and yet ... we find Mother Earth is actually quite selfish. Her one goal is to sustain life and the form doesn't matter. She conspires with Father Time to accomplish this goal. 

Yes, Mother Earth and Father Time are having another tryst in my garden. My deeply rooted love of nature means accepting the cycles and the changes they conspire to bring to my life.  

The garden is one of the two great metaphors for humanity.
The garden is about life and beauty 

and the impermanence of all living things. ...
Annie Lamott

Learning CPR

I never did learn how to "do" CPR, cardio pulmonary resuscitation. Years ago, the dental office staff and I had more than adequate instruction. I just never mastered the correct rhythm; which made me feel more of a dummy than the CPR "dummy." 
        However, I feel I have come very close to mastering another type of CPR: learning how to be calm, patient and reasonable with myself. 
  
In this crazy, mixed-up world of ours it's not easy to remain that way: calm, patient and reasonable. It seems as though we're being pummeled on all sides by dire news and the admonition to be afraid. Afraid and fearful and wary.
        My semi-religious upbringing occurred in the Christian Science Church. As limned in several earlier blog posts, in an attempt to live what she felt were the tenets of that philosophy, Mother would not allow in our home any discussion of, mention of, word of, the world's strife, war or upheaval. Dad seemed to relish dwelling on the same. Talk about a Yin and Yang household! 
      (Yes, I am aware that Yin and Yang, together, create wholeness and completion and for over 63 years, until Dad's death, Mom and Dad seemed to epitomize this philosophy.)

My thoughts of late regarding calmness, patience and reasonableness have less to do with the impact from the outside world and more to do with my sometimes frightened and unsure interior mindscape. 
            I'm learning to be patient with my physical self and its ever-enlarging litany of limitations. I'm practicing ways to stay calm when my mind wants to wander to new worries and concerns. I'm concentrating on being reasonable, not beat myself up, when I now and then forget a word or have a momentary lapse about where I placed my car keys.
            The more I practice my own type of CPR, the more often my breathing calms and my mind clears. So, this "dummy" is just going to keep on practicing. Yet, what an odd world: when I finally feel I've gotten my mind together, my body sometimes feels as though it's falling apart. 

My Halo is Personal

My 22-degree halo

These clouds contain millions of tiny ice crystals. The halos you see are caused by both refraction, or splitting of light, and also by reflection, or glints of light from these ice crystals. The crystals have to be oriented and positioned just so with respect to your eye, in order for the halo to appear.

That’s why, like rainbows, halos around the sun - or moon – are personal. Everyone sees their own particular halo, made by their own particular ice crystals, which are different from the ice crystals making the halo of the person standing next to you. 

"Everyone sees their own particular halo," just as we all have our own particular take on life's occurrences and anomalies based upon where we're standing, metaphorically and physically. 

The "ice crystals," or experiences that make up my "halo" can never be seen by those interacting with me. 

Conversely, no matter how I may study, change my literal or figurative position or attempt to move to the space where another stands, I cannot actually "see" what he sees. 

I've finally realized that if I move just a tiny bit, those "ice crystals," those seemingly frozen concepts I've held for decades, actually begin to refract and the light that emanates helps me see much clearer into a myriad of  issues, social and personal. It's a matter of moving just a few degrees.

I always get to where I'm going by walking away from where I've been. 

~The Tao of Pooh

Tolerance, Privilege and Security

This Simon Jenkins article from The Guardian, "So you think reason guides your politics? Think again," has been a Blog draft since I first read it over three years ago.  I'm aware Jenkins' piece is political in nature. However, I've gone back to read it again and again. Each time, setting aside the article's political bent, I zero in on particular statements that intrigue me. Here's one:

"Reason is ... a weapon we deploy to persuade others that we are right, and they use to prove us wrong. It is not a coming together but a driving apart."  

  It occurs to me that our survival may depend upon our talking to one another.

~Dan Simmon

The statement I found most provocative is, "[T]olerance is itself a privilege of security. Intellectually it is appeasement." Online there are more than 520 comments about Jenkins' article and the one receiving the most opprobrium is the one just quoted. 

I've never been homeless, have never gone without sustenance, have never experienced intentional physical or emotional harm. I consider myself a fairly tolerant person ... you live your life, let me live mine ... and yet admit tolerance on any level is likely much easier when one has good health, a comfortable home, and food in the fridge. 

When you don't know what you're talking about,

it's hard to know when you're finished. 

~ Tommy Smothers

Ah well, as my brother said when he was four years old, "I have a lot of thinks in my head." 

.

  

Having my way with Words

There is this need to put into words just how deeply I am affected by exemplary, stellar writing. I am awestruck by the author who possesses the talent to deftly and thoroughly insert a reader into the story.

My nature is to quickly devour that which I enjoy. Ah, but I refer to food and drink. Not to my beloved words! 

Words and the arrangement of words I savor and save, roll them across my mind, "see" their form and beauty, marvel at their ability, when skillfully strung together, to move me to tears and to anger; to provide comfort and solace; to educate and enlighten me. 

I often stop dead in the middle of a paragraph, in the midst of a sentence, stare away from the page and dwell on the adroit parsing of language, the beauty in the use of, the way with, words. I want to continue with the story, but several minutes pass before I drift back to the page.  

This experience can occur no matter what genre I'm reading. Poetry often has this effect. However, I read poetry knowing there will be intensity and deep, deft expression of feelings and ideas. Even before opening the book I am emotionally ready for the reactions that emerge.

A voice which is now silent but which will live on forever is that of Brian Doyle. His books, essays and poetry are the epitome of rich, detailed, shining writing.  

An excerpt from Doyle's The Wet Engine - Exploring the Mad Wild Miracle of the Heart:

What " ... might we be if we rise and evolve, if we reach and leap, if we deepen and sing, if we come further down from the brooding trees and out onto the smiling plain, if we unclench the fist and drop the dagger, if we emerge blinking from the fort and the stockade and the prison, if we smash the bricks from around our hearts, if we cease to stagger and swagger, if we peel the steel from our eyes, if we yearn and learn, if we do what we say we will do, if we act as if our words really matter, if our words become muscled mercy ... and become as if new creatures arisen from our shucked skins ... become what we are so patently and brilliantly and utterly and wholly and holy capable of … 

What then?"

I know nothing in the world that has as much power as a word. 

Sometimes I write one, and I look at it until it begins to shine. 

~Emily Dickinson