Comic Strip: Teenager Communicating with Parents

Click on Strip to Enlarge

"Cairo," Illinois; "New Madrid," Missouri

       On my way recently to the Los Angeles Radio Reading Service to read the day’s newspapers over the air for the blind and print-impaired, I heard an announcer on my car radio slightly uncomfortably pronouncing the name of a nearby town.  I wondered if he was new to the area.

       Then on our own broadcast, as my reading partner Mike read an article on the floods in the Midwest, I realized I had an advantage because I grew up in the Midwest while Mike grew up in Burbank.

       If you hadn’t heard it occasionally, how would you know the Illinois town “Cairo” is pronounced KAY-roe or that “New Madrid” in Missouri is pronounced nu-MAD-rid, not nu-muh-DRID?  We’ve all got some “inside” linguistic knowledge simply because of where we were raised.

Mark Swed's Joyous Writing about Music

       When a great music critic gets turned on, he or she can be as artistic a writer as any wielder of prose around.  I submit this paragraph from Mark Swed last week, written of young violinist Jennifer Koh, Chicago born of Asian background:

        "Her tone is big, bold and drop-dead gorgeous, just the thing for Romantic-era repertory.... Less than three years ago, she appeared at the Cerritos Center with the Moscow State Symphony as soloist in the soupy Bruch Violin Concerto.  A blindfolded listener could have been fooled into thinking that an American woman of Korean heritage in her early 30s was, in fact, a burly old-school Russian virtuoso in rumpled suit specked with dandruff reaching into the throbbing depths of a passionate, vodka-besotted soul."

      

From "Stem" to "Stern"

       I'm a speech person because I consider speech the source of language but I'll grant that visual symbols helped regularize speech and make it more widely accessible.  Those who favor words on a page or a screen, though, will have to grant that sometimes these visual entities get us screwed up.

       One of my favorites is how, especially in some fonts, the "m" and "n" and "r" can cohabit with one another in less than communicative ways:  the actress Laura Dern can change before your eyes into Laura Dem.  And the front and back end of a boat can both be the same, in the phrase "from stem to stern."

      Yes, the spoken word can mumble and jumble and hem and haw, but the printed word has its  special vulnerabilities.  And I shall never be happy with a front page story making me turn multiple pages to get to the rest of a single word that has been broken off in its middle while the thought that is an intelligible sentence evaporates!

My Only Joke

Wordplay

       Playing with words gets to be a habit.

       I recall the captured Boston Marathon bomber being forthcoming about his crime.  Then I wonder if he'd confess even more in a fifthcoming.

       But there was or is or will be a Second Coming.

       The first coming I remember---I must have been 15.
    
       If you're sonically-minded or speech-minded (and pun minded), no telling where words will take you.  (And some will wish there were no telling.)

       "Forecasting" anyone?

"Uptalk," "Vocal Fry," etc.

       There's worry about teenagers adopting certain speech traits which are au courant amongst their friends but offensive or annoying to their elders, including potential employers.

       One of these traits is an upward inflection at the end of declarative sentences, changing a statement into a question and doing it habitually.  The other is taking on a kind of gravelly voice into which meaningful utterances tend to disappear.

       This reminded me of when I was teaching speech to New York City college kids.  We tried to get rid of ng clicks ("Long  Gisland" ), intrusive r's ("Genar and Bob went to a movie"), saying "toime" for "time,"etc.

        A doctoral study found that those same kids who habitually spoke this way among peers would, without instruction, virtually eliminate these "faults" during job interviews.

"Parterre"

       I knew I wanted seats in either the orchestra or parterre for the Mark Morris dance concert the other night.  I was able to get good central seats in the parterre for son David and myself.

       David posed the question what does it mean, "on the earth"?  French in origin, exactly these two words par and terre, "on the ground" is probably best translation.  It's "the part of the ground-floor of the auditorium of a theatre behind the orchestra" (OED).

       In France in early 18th century, the parterre was the ground level where people stood and stood ready to "critique" the performance.  Some say seats were added after a time with the aim of discouraging demonstrative behavior and utterance.

"Popliteal Fossa"

       These couple words I remember from my teens, and they came back to me on the tennis court today.   The back of the leg behind the knee is what the two words refer to.  PAHP lih TEE-uhl  FAHSS uh   is a correct pronunciation, both words from Latin.

       The popliteal fossa can be a surprisingly sexy part of the female anatomy.

Compulsive? Or Something More

       Connie was characterizing what she heard from a nurse who had arrived from Chicago six weeks earlier.  The nurse, competent seeming and likable, was impressed with Kaiser and complained of ill-organized conditions in the Windy City, of too many patients per health worker, of it being impossible to attend a patient's needs in an orderly and exacting way; nurses would shortcut.

       "You're compulsive," said Connie.

       I waited for the nurse's response with interest.

       "Thorough," she said.

       Thankful I was, and for more than just the care of my wife.  There was dignity and pride in that word.

        


        

Cartoonist Punster

                                        Low depths puntooning.

I Recommend This Ecumenicism

       Ann Gartlan McArthur, childhood friend of our daughter Elizabeth and adult friend of Connie, Elizabeth, and mine, broke me up this morning on the phone by her declaration of sympathy with Connie for her back pain suffering:

       "Tell Connie a Holy Roller Catholic out in the Rocky Mountains wishes her all the Juju in the world."

"Ambrosia"

       Son David:  (To Wife Connie starting lunch at the skilled nursing facility which is giving her help for her severely pained back)  How is that?

       Wife Connie:  (Speaking of the almost but not quite mashed potatoey looking orangish substance in front of her)  Ambrosia!

       David:  What's that?

       Connie:  (PAUSE)

       Me:  Heavenly repast.

       Connie:  Look it up on your iPhone.

       David:  (Doing so) "Food of the gods."  Hmm.  I didn't know the word and actually thought it might apply to some smoothly mixed together vegetable concoction.

       Connie and I:  (Wry silence.)

       Yup, "ambrosia," from ambrotos Greek for "immortal."

Shakespeare's Birthday.

EARTH DAY: "i thank You God..."

                                

                                 Originally recorded April 22, 2012.

Cartoonist Punster on the Loose Again

                         

    

 

click on comic to enlarge

 

        Connie's back pain has been terrible the last couple days, and stronger pain pills are not touching it, and she's pretty much immobilized between our sun room in the morning in her Relax-the-Back chair and on the living room couch in the afternoon to read and watch some video.

         I normally guess wrong two or three times before I find Connie in the computer room or the sun room or the living room or the kitchen or the back yard.  I said to her late today, "I like better not knowing where you are in the house." 

"The Midnight Ride of Paul Revere"

Sandy Hook Says, "Shame!"

       Tonight Jon Stewart showed up some Republican Senators' contradictory arguments yesterday against having background checks for gun purchasers.


       Senator Grassley:  People who steal guns do not submit to background checks.

       Stewart:  But people who steal guns do not submit to our rules about stealing!  But we still have them.  The people in our country who spend millions of dollars to get elected to a legislative body known as the Senate are making the argument there's really no point in making laws because criminals are just going to end up breaking them....
                     

        And so with senators favoring background checks 54-46 and 86% of Americans supporting such a law, the Senate, (mis)guided by its own arcane laws and rules, rejected both a national consensus and the will of its own majority by scorning any just, reasonable, and compassionate gun control legislation.    

      

"Ferret" / "Weasel"

       A hand-printed sign left me wondering:  "Reward for Ferret (Weasel)," plus a phone number.  I didn't know such animals were being kept in California.  Was a ferret really the same as a weasel? 

       A ferret is a weasel, a weasel is a ferret, and apparently it takes one to know the difference.

       Now if a ferret has escaped, how do you "ferret out" a ferret?  This thing has "weaseled" its way out of its owner's confines.  "Weasel"'s obscure origin has implications of theft.  From the weasel's habit of sucking the contents out of an egg, Theodore Roosevelt invented the term "weasel-words," words which steal the force of a statement by purposely making it vague.

       And what if we try to ferret out the word "ferret"?  It goes back to Latin fer, "thief," from which we also get "furtive." 

       I hope this hasn't been too many weasel words.  It's tough ferreting out these things.  But do please note we owe a lot to the animals for clarifying our human behavior.

Creative Misreading? Moose Style

       Connie bought some delicious Denali Mint Moose Track ice cream with streaks and chunks of chocolate through green ice cream.  I have been enjoying it.

       But it reminded me of the All Agency Moose Advisory Committee in my home state of Minnesota.  With that name, I just can't help conjuring a roomful of moose, sitting around and giving advice.

       Unfortunately, rising temperatures are endangering the wonderfully antlered animals, who apparently are habituated and reluctant to move somewhere cooler to save their lives.

Connie's Bon Mot

       Reading through the journal of my West Coast-Southern Canada automobile trip in 1999, I was in the stretch from Vancouver to Calgary during which Connie flew up to join me.  We had had a day of walking around Lake Louise, a gondola ride above the town spotting a grizzly bear below us, a short ride to Banff with another lake visit and some surprising sitings of elk--at a street corner--and along a road, only feet away from us.

       When I asked Connie, city girl that she is, how she felt at dinner that night, she said, "I had a lot of fresh air today which screws up my entire constitution."

      

Warning: More Tongue Twisters

Say Each of These Aloud Five Times Fast.

mulchy mix that was the shtetl culture

(seen on the Queen Mary)

quadruple screw steam turbine engine



Chiropractic Readjustment of the Jaw Available upon Request.

"Interest" -- "Bizarro" by Dan Piraro

Click on Cartoon to Enlarge

        
        I love this cartoon!  But the word "interest" itself interests me.

        Inter esse --“to be between”--is the Latin root of the word.  To be interested in something is neither to dwell in the self nor be lost in the other but to revel in the connection between the two.  What interests us is what touches us, bears upon us.   

       To take the cartoon seriously for a moment, if you needed to borrow money, that would be your interest in this bank; if they loaned it to you, the percent they charge is their interest in making the loan.  If they have “interest-free checking,” then despite the insulting bank teller, their "interest" is in other income they can make from you once you decide to bank with them and do checking "free."

 

Warning: Tongue Twisters

       Say Each of These Five Times Fast

avid advocate

stuck in talk-show shtick

 Then Repeat for Your Mental and Physical Health

Cartooned "Etymology" / "Entomology"

   
Gk. etymon = "true"
                                 study of where a given word comes from, its history
       logos = "word"


Gk. entomon = "cut up"  (i.e. insect, which also means "cut into")
                                 study of insects                   
       logy  =       "study of"  (derived from logos)

"Dictionary"--the Game

       Here are five definitions of "byssus," including the true one, which I saved from a family party, thinking we were pretty bright in creating definitions of a word none of us knew.   Have a go at what you think is the real definition:


       byssus
 
       Any of the genus biffangeus, commonly referred to as mountain goats.

       Byssus is the Christian name James Joyce chose to call his granddaughter Nanette after he received acclaim for his novel Ulysses.

       An organic substance derived from the stomach lining of a salamander, reputed to have medicinal value; usually found in powdered form.
 
       A fine probably linen cloth of ancient times.

       The mythical "other side" that supposedly exists behind gaping black holes in space.


             To find the dictionary definition of "byssus," click here.

Unlikely Rhymes

       Speaking, as I was on March 29, 2013, of  rhymes that one is not likely to ever see again (the earlier one by a rapper was "righteous" with "might just"), I seem to have ferreted out in some old notes one I myself concocted:

                        You've got to have some chutzpah
                        To buy yourself a foot spa

       Canvas poetry the world over, my friend, you will not find that rhyme anywhere.

       (Well, maybe you will because the only rhyme either one in the pair can make is with the other.)

'Lingua'ge--the Word on the 'Tongue'

       I miss the days in which the word "cooperate" appeared with an umlaut ( ̈) over the second "o"; you knew it was pronounced "co-operate," and not "cooper-ate."  Even using the hyphen is fine with me.  You can tell right away how to say it.

       Today, noticing "biopic" in print, I was aware of the problem again.  Could be pronounced like "myopic," but it isn't.  This word refers to a biographical motion picture and so is a BI-o-pic not a bi-AH-pic.   In this instance,  I'd prefer to see the hyphen, "bio-pic," for clarity.

       We knew at once that "naive" had two syllables and not one when the "i" had the umlaut over it, meaning, from the German, "the sound changes around."    

"Magnanimous"--"Pusillanimous"

       One of the best traits of character is magnanimity--generosity--or, taking the derivation of the word literally--"large spiritedness."  It's a trait I admire greatly but don't often evidence.

       I'm far more likely to display the exact opposite trait, "pusillanimity," which is "small spiritedness."

       The two words share the root anima, --"spirit."

       So I guess we have this choice, and to expand on the differences between the two:  magnanimous--large souled, great spirited, noble, rising above pettiness, with the accent on generosity; pusillanimous--small souled, pettiness of spirit, very little courage of heart, cowardly.

       And our choice is?...

       

"Mairzy Doats"

       Connie and I were musing in bed last night about a "nonsense" song from our childhood:

                Mairzy doats and dozy doats and liddle lamzy divey
                A kiddley-divey too, wouldn't you?
                     
       It had a pleasant nursery-rhymish tune along with the silly words.  Something must have clicked back then, and we each got the delight of the language:

               Mares eat oats and does eat oats and little lambs eat ivy
               A kid'll eat ivy too, wouldn't you?

       Wikipedia says that it was a 1943 novelty song by Milton Drake, Al Hoffman, and Jerry Livingston. 
                    

"Flatulent"

       I said to my wife, "I've been unusally flatulent tonight."  She said, "No, I'd say about normal."

       Merriam-Webster:  flatulent, "marked by or affected with gas generated in the intestine or stomach," from Latin flatus act of blowing, wind, from flare to blow, as in "inflated."

Who Wrote Shakespeare's Plays?

       It 's hard for me to get animated or make a big to-do (there's always one around the corner) whether or not Shakespeare wrote Shakespeare's plays. The movie Anonymous not too long ago advanced the Earl of Oxford. The year before that a highly placed Jewess with both English and Italian background was proffered as certainly better positioned and equipped than Shakespeare to write his plays.

       My feeling is Shakespeare by any other name would smell as sweet.

"Eponymous"

       I come across the word twice in one day. I recognize it but cannot recall what it means.


Newspaper movie guide:

            "Le Havre--A bohemian shoeshiner meets and looks after a young African refugee in the eponymous French port city."


Liner notes for Barbra Streisand's music album.   Lyricist Alan Bergman writes:

            "Finally the day of the first session arrives. The eponymous Streisand Scoring Stage at Sony Studios is filled with Hollywood's finest musicians."


      "Eponymous" means "named after."  The second example is clear. In the first, I had to confirm:   sure, Le Havre in French is "harbor" or "port."

      Greek.  Epi--"after"; onyma--"name." 
      And consider.  An--"no"; onyma--"name" = anonymous.  

Etymology Online

       "Etymonline.com" is a website aimed at aggregating and assimilating online the roots of words from a number of etymological sources.

       Douglas Harper of Pennsylvania is the laborer of love here.  A college graduate in history and English, he is combining the fields by doing a "history of English"...word by word.

       As befits someone who chose this excellent preoccupation, Douglas writes well.  Here's a sample from his bio:


       In 1960, when I was born, my parents lived in a place in Pennsylvania called Exton, a village given that name, for all anyone can remember, because it was just a crossroads "X" on the map.  [T]heir house sat across the Swedesford Road from what is now the sprawling mothership of Exton Hall, but was, in 1960, a bog.


       You may check out Doug's website with a click. 

 
     

The Wits of Watts and Wilde

       A good pair of statements I came across in a 1997 page-a-day calendar I created:


               "Because you don't know who you are, you are never,
                        never, never going to be bored."
                                                                                     Alan Watts

               "Only the shallow know themselves."
                                                                                    Oscar Wilde

Dire "Straits"

     
        I first noted "strait" and saw that it wasn't "straight."  Why?  "Strait" derives from Latin strictus, "strict," and thence from stringere, "to draw tight."

       "Straightjacket" is a variant, but "straight" derives from Middle English strecchen, "to stretch."

       Dennis's eyebrows and folded arms and Mom's look and little flush lines on her cheeks show their reactions.

Creative Misreading

       I just came upon the transcript of a microcassette recording I made while driving the U.S. West Coast and into Canada in 1999--


       This is what I read in a guidebook about Washington's Olympic Peninsula tonight:

             “The lower portion of the subalpine zone is covered by tourists.”

Wait a minute:

            “The lower portion of the subalpine zone is covered by forests.”

But then again, I’ve seen a lot of tourists lately covering a lot of everything.

       Creative misreading can also tell something of the truth.

Comic Relief?

       We're not out of hard economic times.   But I do recall a year or two ago when distress was deeper yet and employment maybe even more huge a worry on people's minds.  The news twice weekly seemed to say something like

                We need 100,000 new jobs a month 
              just to keep up with population growth.

And I always pictured squadrons of little infants going off to work.

Rappers Have an Ear for Rhyme

       Driving home tonight I heard a rap artist on the radio doing his thing, a thing I'm not used to hearing often.  I caught a rhyme that I doubt I would hear anywhere else.  "Righteous" was rhymed with "I might just."

       A lot of different letters and separate words in there that don't seem to add up to a "rhyme that chimes."  But it does.

        If we only take note visually of words and letters, we can be led astray from their actual sound in connected speech.  The rap artist wasn't.  Give it a try a couple times, more if necessary.  (Yes, the "t" at the end of "just" doesn't quite match, but in conversational English, that final "t" jus(t) gets lost.)


      

Footnotes

       It's so good as I go through throwing away most old academic journals which I simply have no use for any more, to realize as I do read an occasional piece that catches my eye,  unlike the many years as a student and academic, I no longer feel the compunction to read the

footnotes.

Homemade Cartoon WordPlay

                     Bomb-smelling dog.                            Bomb, smelling dog.

"One Hundred Names for Love"

       Diane Ackerman wrote One Hundred Names for Love about her husband Paul West, both of them writers, both in love with language and each other.

       When Paul fell victim to a stroke that took his abilities both to understand and use language, Diane nursed him back to health by reminding him of the enormous list of pet names he called her by, such as "swan" or "pilot-poet."  He remembered them and gradually regained those words, then others, with love and language. 

       Diane lists the hundred names in the back of the book.  She says, "Paul had so many pet names for me I was a  one-woman zoo."

The Name Befitting the Profession

       We saw a movie tonight, Ginger & Rosa, a good one.  But as credits rolled by, I spied a name, Gary Hoptrough.  He's a stuntman.  It struck me again how names (perhaps made up) can reflect or be appropriate for the professions their owners are in.  Maybe a big trough requiring a huge effort and skill to get across?

       I've thought from time to time that Hawk Spittle would be a good name for a professional baseball player.  Perhaps it's due to memories of chewing tobacco used by ballplayers to get their nicotine lifts.

       Then there's a name that's not made-up, belonging to my friend Toby's proctologist.  The man performs Sigmoidoscopies, inserting a long tube to examine the lower intestinal track, starting from you-know-where.   The doc's last name...Nestlerod.

Honoring a Rabbi

       A few words from a rabbi we honored last night for his 13 years of service to our congregation before he moves on to become a senior rabbi in Vancouver, Canada.  We truly felt the value of Dan Moscovitz's words and deeds during his years with us.  He says these three points distill the messages he has given us:

       1.  Life is precious.  It is sacred.  And it is final.  We are all going to die.  We cannot control or change that.  The only thing we can influence is how we live.  So live a life of meaning and purpose.  This is the only life you get.  Fill it with holiness, fill it with meaning, fill it with love, with service to others, with intention and attention.  Don't waste it because no one gets two funerals.

       2.  Empathy.  Because we as Jews have suffered,  ancient Egypt, the Holocaust, we of all peoples should understand the pain and the suffering of others.  Be more observant of the lives and the needs of others.  Notice people and their challenges in life.  Understand them before you judge them.  Put yourself in their shoes, see the world through their eyes.  And be an empathetic expression and extension of God in the world and in their lives.

       3.  Live on Jewish time.  By that I mean the Jewish calendar, its seasons, holidays, observances.  They are an ingenious pattern for living a life of meaning.  Shabbat tells us to stop, to stop the rushing of our lives and each week to thank God for the blessings that surround us, the blessings of those in our lives.  Yom Kippur reminds us to make amends.  Chanukah of the power of the few in the face of the many to speak truth to power.  Regular Torah study in the weekly Torah portion gives insight and context to the present...as it honors our past.  To sit shiva removes us from the world to focus on what our world has lost, for we have lost one who is dear and profound to us; it is about the soul.  Tradition becomes a tradition because it had something of value to offer; if it didn't, we would have dropped it.  Follow it, observe it, honor it.

       The song sung by our cantor immediately after Dan's words, carried the theme that was heartfelt for this congregation:  "Because I knew you, I have changed...for good."  

      

"Palaver"

       "Enough of my palavering," said I to my son on the phone before we said goodnight.  Hadn't used that word in ages.  It means "to talk profusely or idly," which is what I had been doing.

       Palaver is from Portuguese palavra, meaning "word" or "speech," from Late Latin parabola, parable.  The two halves of the word derive from Greek para ("beside") and ballein ("throw"), and thus can translate "comparison," which certainly is a meaning of "parable."

       Perhaps too many comparisons or analogies or illustrations or examples can grow profuse and idle and become "palaver."

Which Eye Profession do You "Opt" for?

       I went to see the doctor for new eye-glasses.  Or did I?  Is the optometrist a doctor?  An optometrist is not an M.D., Medical Doctor, but an O.D., Doctor of Optometry.

       Only the ophthalmologist is an M.D., specializing in the structure and diseases of the eye and who may perform surgery.  The optician sees to the proper making of the eye glasses, reading and transferring the optometrist's measurements into the actual glasses.

       All three professions opt for the "op" beginning, which goes back to Greek for "eye."

"Howl," 2

        The poem Howl is a howl of anguish and ecstasy.  It is about institutional psychiatric care (Allen Ginsberg's mother and his friend Carl Solomon were both sufferers), about people prostituted to money and industry, about hypocricy and corruption in government, about young people struggling to make sense of their lives, discovering and rapturing with sex and drugs and love including homosexual sex.

       The rhythms of the poem Howl are powerful and incantatory; the language is uninhibited, words that friends use to be honest and forthright with each other.  The judge rightly vindicated Howl, and Howl stands as a great testament of "telling it like it is" with force and accuracy and high emotion.

       "Howl!"      The word is imitative of the sound we and animals utter.  The poem is that cry at length.  The movie is a majestic work of art and love.

"Howl," 1

       "Howl" is an imitative and expressive word.  It's also the name of a famous poem by Allen Ginsberg, which I heard Ginsberg deliver in New York City in 1957 or 58.  Howl is the title too of a wonderful 2010 documentary film on the poem, starring James Franco as Ginsberg.

       The film shows the trial of Lawrence Ferlinghetti for selling the book Howl in Ferlinghetti's City Lights bookstore in San Francisco, on the charge that he was selling obscene literature.  All the words in the film are those of the people being portrayed on the screen:  Ginsberg, judges, lawyers, witnesses.

       Ginsberg reading Howl, Ginsberg speaking to an interviewer, plus the images of a marvelous visual animation of Howl.  Franco is superb both reading and enacting Ginsberg.
                                     (Part 2 tomorrow)

"Boxing"

(Click on cartoon to enlarge)

        Actually the OED says box as a generalized "blow" is now obsolete except as a slap to the ear or side of the head and the origin of the hitting or fighting meaning of "box" is unknown.   It likely had nothing to do with the kind of box depicted here, alas.

"Tennies," Anyone?

       My wife wears her "tennies" and gets new ones when she needs them (when the tennies, that is, don't look good any longer, referring to the uppers that are visible to the world).

       But I'm the only one who plays tennis.  And I need new ones basically only when the soles have no new purchase on the court and the tread is smooth, which is invisible to all but me.

       We kid each other about who buys the most "tennies" with entirely different justifications.  (She says I do, but I also jog and think it's unfair to count those.)

       "Tennis" comes from Anglo-French tenetz (imperative form), from French tenir, "to hold."   In the early form of the game in France, the server would apparently call out to the receiver, "Hold,"  meaning "Receive."

"Anemone"

       Connie has an anemone flower growing in the front yard.  (Rhymes with Gethsemane, hegemony.)  Called the "wind flower," perhaps because its petals are lost easily to the wind; the root is from Greek anemos, wind.

       Sea anemones have resemblance to a flower, and the tentacles around their mouth move,  appearing to be influenced by water's flow.

       An anemometer measures the speed and force of the wind.

       "An Emone of the People" is a play by Ibsen.  No, that's just a joke.  It's "An Enemy of the People."

"2 MSFITS"

A license plate.  "2 MSFITS."  What does it mean?  My first reaction was--"Two Misfits," maybe like a husband and wife who each felt out of step with the world but found each other and were sympatico--thank God...Two Misfits.

But then I thought, what if it were two females, "Two ms. fits"  feminists?  living together?  lesbian?

Leave out a letter or two, and you increase the possibilities of meaning.

"Self"

       In the dentist's office, I picked up Self magazine.

       I found my self resenting it.  Clearly it was a woman's magazine revolving around beauty and health and personal charm and making yourself sexy for men.  What?  Don't men have a "self"?

       If I can't sleep early in the morning, I meditate--following my breathing in and out--and on the outbreath, I say, "There's a self at the center of this breathing," which has often helped bring me back into my own life.

       But some Eastern religions question whether there is a self, encouraging thoughts that we may only come to our "self" when we allow it to disappear, when we fully attend to and are present for others and the world before us as it transpires...

       OK, ladies, you can keep the "SELF."  I disown it. 

"Thou," "Thee," and "Thy"

       "Thou" may sound old-fashioned, but English is now the only Indo-European language that doesn't have a familiar form for "you."

       French has "tu" and "vous," one the familiar, the other formal.  Same with German "du" and "Sie."  We virtually struck "thou" out of the language.  German "du" and English "thou" have an especially close affinity:  "du" became "thou."

       A translation I grew up on of some wonderful Hebrew is no longer used, much to my chagrin.  Part of that older English:


"Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, with all thy soul, and with all thy might.  And these words, which I command thee this day shall be upon thy heart."


       "You" becomes more remote.  No longer does God speak to the people God came to live amongst in the familial terms of relationship.

"Of Time" and the Hummingbird

       Six weeks I let it sit empty, guiltily.  But today I finally filled the hummingbird feeder that draws such delight so close to the house.

       Then I came upon this poem of Mary Oliver from a book my daughter birthdayed me with a couple years ago:


       Of Time

Don't ask how rapidly the hummingbird lives his life.
You can't imagine.  A thousand flowers a day, a little sleep, then the      
       same again, then he vanishes.
I adore him.

Yet I adore also the drowse of mountains.

And in the human world, what is time?
In my mind there is Rumi, dancing.
There is Li Po drinking from the winter stream.
There is Hafiz strolling through Shariz, his feet loving the dust.

       from Swan:  Poems and Prose Poems

     
      


 

Beware the "Yours!" of Tennis

       Jeannie and I go back many years as part of the same group playing doubles tennis on Sundays, but when I'm her partner, I laugh every time she says, "Yours!" 

       Why?  Because it appears to me she could have gotten to the ball and returned it.  When the word "Yours!" pops out of her mouth, I am typically miles away, and the ball is already by her and clearly out of human reach, certainly out of mine.

       What can I do but laugh?

"Sleep that Knits Up the Ravelled Sleeve of Care"

       "Sleep that knits up the ravelled sleeve of care."

       Thank you, Miss Anderson, for having us memorize those "spot passages" from Shakespeare.

       And we had to memorize them.  Each week, we'd go one by one up to her desk, sit by it, and while other students were studying, recite to her quietly the "passage of the week."

       Today, napping after a lousy, losing game of feeble tennis, lost against the winds and better players across the net, I feel my two-hour nap healing my aching body and soul for the pains of the game, for DST's extraction of an hour, and for a hectic week to boot!

       "Sleep that knits up the ravelled sleeve of care."

"Quiescently Frozen"

       "Quiescently frozen" appeared (and still appears) on the wrapper of those delightful confections on a stick, my favorite childhood brand being "Fudgesicle," a chocolaty brown frozen bar.  I never knew, and I never wondered what "quiescently frozen" meant.

       But it must have nagged a little because I recently found myself looking at an Eskimo "Fudge Bar" wrapper...and making a phone call. 

       The "Q. and A." man at the Eskimo Pie Company in Richmond, Virginia, told me it means "less than 10% air is whipped in" so that it has the right texture.  It's denser and colder than ice cream, for example, which has more air whipped in.  Little whipping for "quiescently frozen confections"; they just sit there and "quiesce," which, from Latin, means "be still."

       And now I shall do the same, quiesce, about my fondly remembered childhood dyslexia.
 

Lips, Gum Ridge, & Tongue All in a Mashup

       Police, protesters, and military fighting in Egypt today, and I take note of something I wrote on October 10, 2011:


       Confusion in Egypt today...and confusion in language.  Protests, physical fighting, gunshots, many deaths.

       Reports came on the radio: Coptic Christians protesting; there were police; there were security forces; the military.  Reporter spoke of "the cops interacting with the police"--wait, the cops are the police aren't they?    

       Later I realized Coptic is the adjective, Copts is the noun to designate those Christians.  You try to make the "p," "t," and "s" all work in "Copts" without sounding exactly like "cops."

       And maybe those security forces were the military, who after all are ruling Egypt at present.  In that case, in a sense, all of the feuding, fighting folks in Egypt today were COP(T)S.

Homemade Cartoon Punster

                                      "No, I said, 'Hold your breath!'"

"Mother Fu----"

       Pouring a weighty frying pan of food into a bowl, I said, "This is a heavy Mothah!"  Which instantly brought back basic training at Ft. Knox, Kentucky.

       A Southern Black chaplain gave us a lecture on the soldier's use of language, calmly admonishing us that we didn't need to use the term "Mother Fu----."

       There were lots of Black and White draftees in that room, and as I recall, the Blacks first of all and then the rest of us did everything we could to smother snickers, snorts, and bursts of laughter whenever the expression was mentioned.

       I doubt its use was one whit reduced by the lecture that day; and I added it to my vocabulary.  But maybe that truncated "Mothah" of mine is a tribute to the partial success of the good chaplain's efforts.

Elder Sounds

        Elder sounds. I don t know if they constitute a language per se, but they not only express a lot, they communicate a lot--mainly, being under physical stress.

        Getting up and sitting down produce a goodly number of such sounds:  "Uhh," "Enh," little grunts and groans that I 've come to realize are not necessarily seeking sympathy or help, but are involuntary accompaniments to strain.  The body creeks a little to get where it needs to go or do what it needs to do, and the vocal instrument joins it in support!

"Preposterous Pre-Posthumous"

       Poet David Ferry was on the PBS NewsHour tonight.  He had been one of five nominees for the National Book Award.  When asked what he thought his chances were, he said, "My hope is maybe they'd give it to me as a preposterous pre-posthumous award."

      "Posthumous" means "after earth" (humus=earth), so after burial, but "pre-" would then have to be before such burial and still alive--a better time to actually receive an award in person.

       If  "pre" means "before" and Latin posterus means "coming after" (OED), then the fore is coming after and the after before; the verbal house of cards collapses; and it IS preposterous.

       At eighty-eight--and being a poet--Ferry could both worry about and have fun with such things.   And maybe it's why he won the award. 
      

Silent Communication

       A few months ago, I saw the quietest touch football game I 've ever seen.  While setting my pedometer before jogging at the park, I noticed the game.   It was very quiet for about 16 young men lined up in two teams, running plays, moving to catch and defend against passes.

      Then I realized they were deaf.  A very occasional call out or yell, but no words.  However, a lot of gestures, eyes sharply tuned, and from time to time American Sign Language.

       I noticed a CSUN sweatshirt, California State University Northridge, known for its deaf program; hence this number of non-hearing young men enjoying themselves athletically and communicating--quietly--was really not that extraordinary.

Heard in a Word

       On the air, I heard of someone who was an "oxygenarian"--yes, that was the sound, which I knew must be "octogenarian," but once I heard it that way, I realized indeed both "words" apply to me.

       I am in my eighties,  83 as of this week--my prerogative to take the whole week for my birthday at this age--but with asthma and what my primary physician has referred to for the last five years as COPD,  I have breathing challenges that make me an "oxygenarian" too.

       I might as well, while claiming seven days for my birthday, make a single word serve up two meanings that both apply to me!

Homemade Prayer?

       The language of prayer can be mystifying or arcane to many.  I myself say a few words of thanks and concern each morning, thinking about family and friends, but I don't, haven't, before meals like one of my friends and one relative.  Those two give me pause when they take a moment before eating to say a few words.

       Naomi Levy moved me to imagine I could try such a thing.  I found a Blessing over Food in her "homemade" prayer book Talking to God, a book which gives you to wonder why we don't make up our own prayers more often.  These words struck me with their simplicity and justness:

                               Thank you for plants, animals, and water.


      

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.