My family is big on wordplay—the sillier
the better. Whether it’s deliberately mispronouncing or making up words for
comic effect (strictly ours), overusing idioms (beating a dead horse), or
simply quoting dumb movie lines, we delight in linguistic levity. As our
Commander-in-Chief might tweet, “That’s just sad!” No doubt, but entertaining
nonetheless.
My ex-husband and I had a thing for Monty
Python and Charles Dickens--“that’s Dikkens with two K’s, the well-known Dutch author.”
Certain catch phrases, like this one from the Monty Python “Bookshop” sketch, still
make me smile.
If I was feeling particularly sorry for myself, my spouse would call me Mrs. Gummidge—the “lone lorn creetur’” in “David Copperfield” who “everythink goes contrary with.” The moniker stuck.
If I was feeling particularly sorry for myself, my spouse would call me Mrs. Gummidge—the “lone lorn creetur’” in “David Copperfield” who “everythink goes contrary with.” The moniker stuck.
It wasn’t all fun and games, however. As
a high school English teacher, his students’ misuse of the mother tongue was no
laughing matter. Those who committed the egregious error of spelling “a lot” as
one word received an automatic “F”. Harsh? Perhaps. But if they gave a rat’s…I
mean, if they cared a fig about their GPAs I bet they made that mistake only
once.
Our kids are forever quoting dialogue from
favorite films--“Old School,” “Airplane,” “Wedding Crashers,” and “Groundhog Day”
top the list. Before I left to visit my youngest, who was studying in Paris, her
sister in San Francisco texted me, “Bring me back something French.” Really? I
hadn’t planned on buying souvenirs, plus my carry-on was already crammed to
capacity.
“Mom,” my daughter explained patiently,
“it’s a quote from ‘Home Alone’.”
If you want to impress your loved ones
with your ability to recite random movie lines, there’s no shortage of material
at the Morrill Memorial Library.
My mother, from whom I inherited the
unfortunate stickler-for-grammar gene, was renowned for her own quotes. Eyeing
the cot on which she was to sleep during a weekend visit, she exclaimed, “Prisoners
sleep on thicker mattresses than this!” Contemplating the walk from the car to
the water for a day of family fun on the Cape, she complained, “This beach has too
much sand.” And the last time she saw her bearded grandson, the Christmas
before she died, she told him, “You look terrible!” Mom did not mince words--or
beat around the bush.
I may have said “I’ll eat my hat!” once
or twice myself, and I’m especially keen on “colder than a witch’s…” er, you
get my drift. If idioms tickle your fancy as well, give this one a whirl--“I’m
Not Hanging Noodles on Your Ears and Other Intriguing Idioms from Around the
World” by Jag Bhalla. (That’s a new one on me, too.)
But back to my maternal parent. Regarding
her youngest grandchild, who Mom believed showed particular promise: “At least she’s
not going to grow up to be just a librarian.” Ouch. My daughter enjoys her job
in TV news but once admitted that her dream was to be an archivist (read: librarian
who likes old stuff). Have you heard the expression, “turning over in her grave”?
While my mom was the Queen of
Hyperbole, my partner—no stranger to the pun himself--dubbed his mother Cleopatra,
Queen of Denial. Desperate for a girl after having produced three sons, she called
her fourth child Mary for the first few days. The baby’s name was in fact Bill.
I
may be just a librarian, but my real passion is copy-editing. Put a red pen and
the written word within my reach and I’m as happy as a clam at high tide.
Knowing my penchant for proofreading, my boss printed out and presented me with
this pearl: “My life is a constant battle between wanting to correct grammar
and wanting to have friends.” I generally keep it zipped, but it requires a
Herculean effort to refrain from fixing typos in the margins of whatever book
I’m reading. If it weren’t for the shame of being caught defacing library
property…
Neither snow, nor rain, nor heat, nor
gloom of night prevents me and my partner from tuning in to Jeopardy every
night with our favorite host, Alex…Trebek! The only categories in which I have
a snowball’s chance in…, that is, of distinguishing myself are those relating
to language. “Proverbially Speaking” was a walk in the park, and I nailed “Words
that Begin and End with N.” Although I’m hopeless in almost every other category,
I still shout out an answer, or rather a question, each time. It’s extremely gratifying
when I get one right. Except that when I don’t, the correct response tends to
get drowned out in my eagerness to beat the buzzer.
Another highly diverting word game is one
we made up ourselves. If someone uses a remotely erudite or multi-syllabic word
in conversation, the other will respond with a totally commonplace, understated
comeback. For example, after a wedding we’d both attended, my friend commented,
“Wasn’t the bride absolutely radiant?” Me: “Yeah, and she didn’t look half-bad,
either.” When somebody was recently referred to as indigent, I couldn’t help
saying, “He probably didn’t have a ton of money, either.” I engage in this type
of witty repartee with just two people--my significant other and his ex-wife. It’s
our way of poking a bit of fun at each other for using a ten-dollar word. I
know, it’s just sad.
Whatever form of wordplay floats your
boat, the library will deliver. To learn the proper usage of “its” versus “it’s”
or “me,” “myself,” and “I,” Strunk and White (“The Elements of Style”) are your
go-to guys. But if you want to dig
deeper and enjoy a few chuckles in the bargain, check out Lynn Truss’s British bestseller,
“Eats, Shoots & Leaves—the Zero Tolerance Approach to Punctuation.” Another
must-read for the serious word buff is “Between You & Me: Confessions of a
Comma Queen” by Mary Norris, who chronicles her long career at The New Yorker
and shares helpful tips and humorous anecdotes. In “Word by Word: the Secret
Life of Dictionaries,” Kory Stamper compensates for her less than inspired
title with an irreverent inside look at the life of a lexicographer for Merriam-Webster.
Regardless of your particular quest,
make haste to your local library. And if you don’t find the holy grail of linguistic
treasures, or whatever it is you seek, I’ll eat my hat.
