Un Peu de Français

       Good friends Sally and Marcel back in the U.S. after living 13 years in France.  Back where email greetings are no longer the order of the day (and the birthday).  Thrilled Connie and I were to see and be with them today.  AND for me to receive this "hard copy" in person, to dangle a bit more French before my eyes brought fresh from their home in Provence:

  
       Let's see--"Very, Very, Joyous
                                                       Birthday
                                                                     to a Person
                                                                                       Truly Tremendous
                       Who on this Festive Day
                                                                 Deserves Beautiful Things!"
                                   
                                                 "Ah, Merci!"

"Fulsome"

       This is note I took of a past "word crisis" between two educated and bright broadcasters:

       The panel of commentators on radio's "Left, Right, and Center" had a difference of opinion about the Occupy Wall Street movement in New York City.  Three of the panel opined positively about the protest, and one was pretty much ready to dismiss it.

       Realizing the imbalance in the discussion, the moderator said, "Tony, you're outnumbered here; you deserve time for a fulsome response. Go ahead."

       Tony said, "Fulsome means overripe.   I wouldn't want to give that kind of response."

       Both gentlemen were correct in their respective understandings of the word, but the danger is confusion.  Merriam-Webster says fulsome can ambiguously mean "copious," "abundant," as the moderator intended, or "overdone," "excessively effusive," as Tony took it.

"The Iceberg Theory"

       Daughter Elizabeth seems to have found the perfect poem for my birthday to capture one strong recollection she has of me:  I liked and defended iceberg lettuce when the world had long since shunned it.  Gerald Locklin expresses the position beautifully.   

             The Iceberg Theory

all the food critics hate iceberg lettuce.
you'd think romaine was descended from
orpheus's laurel wreath,
you'd think raw spinach had all the nutritional
benefits attributed to it by popeye,
not to mention aesthetic subtleties worthy of
verlaine and debussy.
they'll even salivate over chopped red cabbage
just to disparage poor old mr. iceberg lettuce.

I guess the problem is
it's just too common for them.
It doesn't matter that it tastes good,
has a satisfying crunchy texture,
holds its freshness
and has crevices for the dressing,
whereas the darker, leafier varieties
are often bitter, gritty, and flat.
It just isn't different enough and
it's too goddamn american.

of course a critic has to criticize;
a critic has to have something to say
perhaps that's why literary critics
purport to find interesting
so much contemporary poetry
that just bores the shit out of me.

at any rate, I really enjoy a salad
with plenty of chunky iceberg lettuce,
the more the merrier,
drenched in an Italian or roquefort dressing.
and the poems I enjoy are those I don't have
to pretend that I'm enjoying.

Gerald Locklin

Writer Needs an Ear for Words

       Pondering writing the other day, I took down my Best of Sydney J. Harris to look through Harris's thoughtful ruminations on the arts.

       Recalling Mark Twain's annoyed observation that "the difference between the right word and the almost right word is the difference between lightning and the lightning bug," Harris goes on:

       "Most persons--and this includes aspiring writers--simply fail to recognize that there are very few true synonyms in the language, no matter what the dictionary may insist....

       "The right word is as important to the writer as the right note to the composer or the right line to the painter....A writer needs an "ear" as much as a musician does.

       "And without this ear, he is lost and groping in a forest of words, where all the trees look much alike."

      

When the Image Matches the Description

       There was a strange photo in the L.A. Times to accompany Mark Swed's review of a young violinist 's performance with the L.A. Philharmonic. The photo caught my eye:

Swed noted in his review that soloist Janine Jansen "was all but a member of the ensemble, standing so close to the orchestra she would not have needed to take a step had she wanted to sit on a cellist's lap."

       Indeed, the photo seems to show a cellist's arm fully extended and encircling Jansen's waist in order to get to his instrument!

                                     (Click on photo to enlarge)

 

Writers on Writing

       Philip Roth was approached by a budding writer who pressed his first novel on him.  Upon returning the manuscript, Roth said, "Yeah, this is great.  But I would quit while you're ahead."  Roth then spoke of the awful and torturous field of writing.  "I would say just stop now.  You don't want to do this to yourself."

       The account appeared in today's David L. Ulin column on "The Reading Life" in the L.A. Times.  By column's end some positive notes are struck by both Ulin and the young novelist himself on the bleak field of writing.

       Nevertheless, it's hard to resist the truthful ring of what Ulin also includes from sportswriter Red Smith:  "There's nothing to writing.  All you do is sit down at a typewriter and open a vein."     

"Teaspoonfuls"

       I saw “four teaspoonfuls” on the bottle of a product Connie bought and wondered about that plural.  One dictionary gave me this form first but also approved “teaspoonsful,” which I think might be more “correct.”  The Oxford English Dictionary appeared to avoid the issue by not giving a plural form at all!

       But perhaps the OED was on to something because online I came across a technical writer who said in such problematic instances as "teaspoonfuls" versus "teaspoonsful" it is best to look for another way of saying the same thing, and suggested, for example, “use four teaspoons of x”! 

And on My "Left"...

       My son David has a blog in which he posts sporadically; I was just admiring again an entry about his (and others') difficulties in being left-handed.

       And it's true that left-handedness is not an honored state within language itself.

       From the French, we have "gauche" and "adroit," the former meaning both "left" and socially inept or graceless, the latter to be literally "to the right," and "therefore" to show "skill, cleverness, or resourcefulness."

       Would you believe "left" itself comes from Old English lyft-, "weak, useless," and "right" from Old English riht, "just, correct, straight."

       I hesitate to mention the Latin-sourced "dexterous" from dexter, "on the right side" and "sinister" (same in Latin), "on the left side," the positives and negatives being quite clear.

       Empathize further, and interestingly, with David here. 

"Artisan"

       Domino’s now has special “Artisan” pizza.  Pretty fancy name.  A Times story says the term comes “from the Italian artigiano, was coined as far back as the 16th century to refer to a skilled craftsman who carved or otherwise hand-tooled an item.”

       Foodies have used the word to signify “made in an old-fashioned hands-on manner.”

       But Domino’s doesn’t want to alienate its regular customers who could care less about foodies and their ritzy terms; so Domino's also puts on its box in large letters:  “We’re Not Artisans.”  And, ”We don’t wear black berets, cook with wood-fired ovens or apprentice with the masters in Italy.”

       Domino’s:  straining to speak out of both sides of its mouth. 

"Circa"

       I always love it a bit when I come across “circa.”  I understand what it means because I studied Latin.

      This is no great feather in my cap.  Everyone knows what "circa" means, whether a person has studied Latin or not.  But it is a Latin word, and it means “around,” and we often see it when no one knows the exact date; so a good guess would be “circa 1900” or circa whatever.

      I suppose the use of it instead of “around” is to escape seeming dumb for not knowing the exact date.  You don’t appear dumb when you use Latin; you just dumbfound everyone else.

America

       Columnist Hector Tobar wrote in the L.A. Times of a thirty-year high school reunion in Pasadena of students who were among the first to be integrated by federal court order, a class of kids with multiple skin colors who simply became friends.

       In the column, Tobar quoted the words “equal daughters, equal sons…all alike endear’d.”  The words are by Walt Whitman, which I might have guessed from the affirmative tone.  They’re from the short poem “America.” 

      And here was an American class, still friends in adulthood going back thirty years and more, standing as proof of Whitman’s words. 

"Bury"

       I heard two different people pronounce “bury” as BURR-ee.  One was the President of the United States, Barack Obama, the other a fellow reader with me at the Los Angeles Radio Reading Service.  So I had to look it up.

       I’ve always pronounced it BEAR-ee as in “berry” for example; and though I’ve heard the other way on occasion, I did think that pronunciation sub-par.

      Two respectable sources have it BEAR-ee; one also respectable has it both ways.

      BURR-ee would seem to have justification in that the word shares root meaning from Old English with “burrow,” “borrow,” and “borough,” that meaning being “shelter” or “protection.”  All three words have pronunciations closer to BURR than BEAR!

       (For history and development of bury's spelling and pronunciation, go here.)

       

Words Will Trick You Every Time

       I once heard an explanation on radio of why a bride wears white.  It was very much like this; in fact, just about verbatim:

       "A bride's wearing all white symbolizes that she's inviolate."

       Wait a minute, didn't you just say she was in white?

Good Words

       Connie and I had some good words last night.  With her bad back and some pills helping provide a less painful and easier rest,  Connie has gotten off to sleep earlier than I recently.  I usually give her a kiss as she’s ready to turn off the light.  Tonight I stood at the side of the bed, leaned over, and Connie wrapped her arms around my neck, and I kissed her.  Our conversation went this way: 

        Connie:  You feel good.    
        Me:     You kiss good.

And we chuckled together before saying goodnight. 

A Little Preposition Lets Intent Shine Through

       L.A. Times theatre critic Charles McNulty may have given his true attitude in the perhaps unconscious alteration of a phrase. 

       Referring to a National Theatre production he’d seen in London, McNulty said,

       "When I caught the production...grown men were reduced to sobbing puddles of hilarity.  I’ve never been a huge fan of the Benny Hill style myself, but this madcap caper, involving mistaken identity, bumbling mobsters and all sorts of shameless shenanigans revolving around food, tickled me to no end."

       The Benny Hill remark and especially the use of the phrase “to no end” instead of the more common “no end,”  perhaps suggest the work’s shortcomings to him.  The play may have tickled him, but apparently “to no purpose” rather than “a vast amount.”

Why Not? Heavenly MO

        Our Kaiser Health Maintenance Organization had us pay for parking until they seem to have decided it wasn’t worth the delays it took to make payment, the cost to employ money-takers, or whatever, and in a decision that may appeal to just about everybody, the “gates” are now unpersoned, and as you go by the little booth and see a lowered stick blocking your way, a sign reads

                APPROACH SLOWLY   
                GATE WILL RISE

        I am minded, and why shouldn’t I be, of a possible similar sign.   If I’m not in too much of a hurry and don’t press my case, could be it’ll be just that easy when I get to heaven. 

Cartoonist Punster

  

That "High" British Pronunciation

       OK, I’m fascinated with the sound of words.  Actually I find it quite sexy to hear Frances Anderton, one of the producers of Warren Olney’s wonderful radio show To the Point, say “dot com.”  Why?  She’s British with an impeccable upper class pronunciation, and her highly polished utterance of the language is very hard to resist.

       That more rounded British “o” in “dot” and “com,” with the perfectly articulated “t,” unlike my Minnesoda “t,” somehow has great sensual and seductive appeal to me.  I guess it’s hearing high-end lips steeped in class and culture “dirtying” themselves on the common clay of digital lingo that gets me!

"Who-Whom?" (and Beyond) 3

       And finally, here's a tricky, tough nut:

       "(He/him) who doesn't speak, God doesn't hear." 

        It isn't strictly speaking a "who/whom" question but poses the same issue, i.e., whether the doubtful word is a subject or an object.
     
       Changing the word order, "God doesn't hear him who doesn't speak."  You wouldn't say, "God doesn't hear he." Peculiarly, in this saying, the first word is the object of the last word. 

       And please note in contrast with my tricky one that "She who laughs last, laughs best."  And now you know why.  Don't you?

       In both these examples, however, neutral gender language would be best.  "The one who doesn't speak, God doesn't hear."  "The one who laughs last, laughs best."

"Who-Whom?" 2

       Here are some more sample sentences.  It helps to remember, that the letter "m" connects "him," and "whom" (and "them" when plural is needed)  as objects.

       (Who, whom) shall I take to the movie?
(Change word order to ordinary sentence, not a question.  Replace with "he," "him."  So?)

       To (who, whom) do I owe the honor of this visit?
(Temporarily change word order again.  Substitute "she," "her."  Which fits?  Therefore?)

       I don't know (who, whom) wants to lead the group.
(Starting in mid-sentence, try "he," "him."  Which sounds right?  So ?)

       I don't know (who, whom) the teacher wants to lead the group.
(Start mid-sentence.  Change word order to put "she," "her" with verb "wants."  Now which sounds right?  Voila, you have it.)        
              

"Who-Whom"--Have fun

       This is an attempt to answer my wife Connie's request to deal with  the "who-whom" dilemma:

       "Who" is subject; "whom" is object.  So if you can substitute "he" or "she" for the questionable word and it sounds right to you, the proper word is "who."  If you can substitute "him" or "her" for the doubtful word and it sounds right, the proper choice is "whom."  Also, shifting the word order temporarily to put the dilemma word closer to the preposition or verb it belongs with will help in deciding  too.

                                                           SAMPLES
       (Who, whom) wants to take a walk with me?
               (Substitute "he," then "him."  Got an answer?  You're right.)

       (Who, whom) do you want to take a walk with?
               (you do want to take a walk with (who, whom).  Substitute "she," "her."  Got it?  Right.

      
      

"Talking to My Students" by Michael L. Newell

     
        I was catching up on my former student, present friend's, poems, which he sends me by email (has sent me for years).  A good spate of poems.   Some of them tempted me to want to read them aloud on my blog.  Michael emailed me his blessing if I were tempted enough.  So here's one:

                                TALKING TO MY STUDENTS
 
                    Words stream through my mouth, a channel                
                    for voices I had forgotten: there's my father,
                    how did he get in there--I thought I had left
                    him at the ancestral home and moved myself
                    on down the road; there's old Bob lecturing
                    my drama class--why the sneaky bastard even
                    slips into my English classes where he has no
                    territorial rights; Ben, dead and buried, brings
                    his ascetic haunted face and voice, his moral
                    clarity, into my discussions--softly scolding
                    my lack of rigor; singing a song, there is Joseph
                    smiling, nodding encouragement, making sure
                    I  keep time accurately, hit the right notes,
                    remember the melody, treat the lyrics with respect;
                    I have become a river where streams merge--dozens
                    of friends, teachers, relatives, colleagues, students,
                    even an occasional enemy, have filled me
                    with their thoughts, their words, their rhythms; I am
                    a typical American, mongrel to the core, never one,
                    always many, never pure, always a mixture
                    of contradictory traits which strengthen one another;
                    my current carries with it the debris of every life
                    which has brushed up against me; my voice, I tell
                    the faces in front of me, is not my own, it belongs
                    to every person I have known; it belongs to you.

                    Michael L. Newell

 


     
      

"Adjusting" Republican Language

       Jon Stewart  did his comic/critical job this evening taking to task the new linguistic approach of Republicans trying to regain momentum lost in the 2012 election.

       Resident language expert and GOP advisor Frank Luntz said all Republicans have to do is change the "language errors" and make "adjustments."   Don't call for "smaller government" but for "more effective and efficient government."  Don't call for "controlling growth of Medicare and Social Security"; say "save and strengthen entitlements."

       In other words, you may want to hack government down to a barely noticeable entity and slice social programs a breath short of disappearance, but just sound like you're for improving and rescuing them!

       So it's Orwellian, even if not as blatant as "Freedom is Slavery."

 
      



         

"Goodbye"

       Language is the most malleable of stuff.  Transformations take place over time.  One of the most interesting to me is "goodbye," which is an alteration of "God be with you."  How did it happen?  Probably something like this:

           God be with you

           God be with ye

           God be wi' ye

           God b'w'ye

           God bwye

           Good-bye ( may be influenced by "good day" and "good night")

           Goodby

High School Latin to the Rescue

       When I came home from tennis yesterday about noon, Connie asked, “Have a good game?”

       I found myself saying, “I got up.  I went.  I played.”   I guess I was echoing and mocking the “Veni, vidi, vici” (WENN-ee, WEED-ee, WEEK-ee) reportedly written by Julius Caesar in 47 B.C.E.
 
       However, Caesar said, “I came, I saw, I conquered,” and I the opposite in the least painful way I could manage to utter it.

Words Summoning the Pride and Dignity of Labor

       Last month I gave a  poetry reading for a fellowship group at our temple.  One of the poems was "Shirt" by Robert Pinsky.  The poem honors those who labor to make shirts for us around the world.

       While preparing my reading, I tried to recall the song that used to be played as a commercial thirty or more years back for the ILGWU, the International Ladies Garment Workers Union.  It touched me every time I heard it.  My kids were young at the time, and when it was played, they'd turn toward me and say, "Look Dad's crying again."

       Well, I found it online of course, and it's still worth hearing and pondering. 

       

Pasta's Many Shapes (and Names)

       Connie made a tortellini soup for dinner.  I knew the "ini" meant "little," and found the first part was based on "torta," meaning "cake."  They were little round pasta kind of curled up, and so the shape of "little cakes."

       Over the years I have found pasta at the grocery by their looks based on the roots in their names.  I'm not sure how thankful I was to learn that vermicelli are "small worms," so named for the slender rolls or threads of paste, but farfalle are "butterflies," which are pleasant, and I was happy to learn that linguine pasta are "little tongues," narrow and flattened like a tongue.

       Maybe I was happy because linguine has the same root as "language," which after all we do sometimes call "a tongue."   

"Undeserved" vs. "Underserved"

       In a business page column of the L.A. Times of September 1, 2011, Michael Hiltzik writes of the "undeserving poor," so-called by some.  The column debunks the term, and it made me think of the easy mixup between the words "undeserved" and "underserved."
     
      The poor are often “underserved,” get a smaller piece of the pie the federal government serves up to its citizens.  Hiltzik’s column clearly demonstrates that that is the case.

      The other term, “undeserving poor,” takes a totally opposite stance.  And Hiltzik quotes A. J. Liebling  as having identified what this term is really saying: “that the poor are poor because of their sins and whatever they get is too good for them.”  It is a term that deserves debunking.