Author Archives: Geraldine

About Geraldine

Forty years of teaching English, a lifetime of walking around New York City, and fifty or so books: my qualifications for making snarky comments on language as I see and hear it in New York.

Gratitude, Of Course

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I usually write about silly or pretentious language, but not today. Instead I want to talk about some very brave people and, because this is a language blog, about the language those people use. Almost three years ago, for a period of about six months, I spent a lot of time in a hospital where someone I loved was losing the fight for his life. In addition to keeping track of his medicines and treatments, I listened to the language around me. That’s what I do.

It struck me that every time I thanked someone — and there were many, many occasions to do so — the response was the same: “of course.” It was odd at first. The traditional response is “you’re welcome,” but it was a cancer hospital, so “welcome” wasn’t really appropriate. No one wanted to be there as a patient, and the caregivers would have preferred not to “welcome” anyone to the world of cancer. Newer responses — “no problem” and its close cousin, “no worries” — were horribly inaccurate. Because language arises from necessity and creativity, “of course” stepped into the breach.

As I watched hospital personnel reattach IV bags and adjust beds, medications, tubing, and all the other accoutrements of illness, I knew they did so because of course they didn’t want anyone to suffer. Of course they wanted sick people to receive the best care. Of course they’d take time to explain, to reassure, to comfort, and to tend in every way to the needs of patients and their families. It is, I believe, a kind of love. The very best kind.

So now, of course they’re working to save us from the virus. Of course they’re putting their own lives at risk. And of course we should thank them whenever we can. But not just with words: every precaution we take to safeguard our own health is a precaution we take to safeguard theirs. Is it difficult to give up the routines of daily life? Of course. Is it necessary? Of course. Should those in charge do everything — everything! — to give them the supplies they need? Of course.

And because I’m a creature of words, I add these: Thank you, doctors, nurses, EMTs, aides, clerks, and everyone else taking care of us.

A Dose of Silliness

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With all that’s going on, it’s time for a little silliness. New York City sign-writers are happy to oblige, albeit unknowingly. Here’s one from a coffee shop:

The right side is blurred because of the coat-to-chalk effect, so I’ll retype the message here: “Not only was Aretha Franklin the first woman to be inducted into the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame, she was the first woman, period.” One question: Did Adam give her R-E-S-P-E-C-T?

Onward, to an art store:

I’m not “prude” either, but I am a grammarian, and my preference for “prudish” is not “just highly selective.”

Last, an all-too-accurate sign:

We are indeed in a “mean time.” Things will eventually improve, but in the meantime, laugh as much as you can. Then wash your hands.

Challenge

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This post is a challenge: Can you reword these well-meaning but misguided signs, all of which have “do” problems? One point for a grammatically correct answer, two for grammatically correct and punchy, and three for a revision that fits the first two categories and maintains some sort of verb. I’ll tell you what I came up with for each, but fair warning: my revisions are terrible. Ready? Then we’re off to the barber shop:

The original, “We do hot shave,” has to go. My attempts: “We hot shave.” I don’t think so. “We shave hot.” Nope. “We shave hotly.” Definitely no. How about “We stick hot towels on your face before we shave you”? Not unless the storefront widens considerably. (And when did shaving become a team effort?)

Onward, and not upward:

As it is now, this sign feels like a retort to someone who said, “I wish you tailored.” (“We do tailor!”) My revisions: “We tailor and do alterations” and “Tailoring and Alterations Done Here.” Way too formal, way too long. Your thoughts?

Last one:

There’s an easy fix: cut off the first line of the top sign. That earns two points, but can you go for a three-pointer?

I’ll tally everyone’s points. The reader with the highest score will win . . . well, nothing. But DO try anyway.

Chickening Out

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Every time I think a bit of rationality has invaded food ads (which occurs, I admit, never), I see a sign so loopy I have to laugh. And snap a photo:

How is a “whole whole chicken” different from a “whole chicken”? Is it “wholer”? Or is there something missing in the usual “whole chicken” that I should know about? Perhaps, in these hyperbolic days, we need to repeat something just to make it seem true. Sigh.

Here’s an even more disturbing sign:

Maybe this sign explains the previous one: Perhaps the “whole whole chicken” includes the brain, obliquely referred to here as the quality it confers, “smart.” The whole (whole whole) thing makes me shudder and sigh.

I think I’ll eat veggies tonight. How about you? Having trouble deciding? Try this:

No decisions, just a grab. Ideal, until you notice that it’s “our favorites,” not “your.” Sigh again.

Writing this post has made me hungry. I think I’ll grab my favorite snack, which is not chicken — not “whole,” not “whole whole,” and definitely not “smart.” Bon appetit!

In Case of . . .

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“Emergency” seems like an important topic these days. Given all that’s going on in the world, it’s easy to panic. Here’s a sign from someone who obviously has:

I’m not here to judge whether step-sitting constitutes an emergency. For all I know, plopping on the staircase might slow a life-saving organ transfer. I do know that the sign-writer has a punctuation emergency, specifically the soon-to-be worldwide shortage of exclamation points. I mean, we can only produce so much punctuation, despite working 24/7 to churn it out! (or out!!!). Be reasonable, people.

And if you can’t be reasonable, at least be friendly:

My first thought, after I blessed the sign-writer for the single exclamation point, was “speak for yourself,” because for many of us, “emergencies” are definitely not “welcome.” Though I guess if you’re bored, the right emergency can add a little zing to your day.

So can a mistranslated phrase:

Yes, help for those pesky infernos is on the way, “to crash in event of fire.” With apologies to the Borg (Star Trek’s best villains, in my opinion), assistance is futile.

For the New Year

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Pundits are splashing us with rivers of ink to emphasize how crucial 2020 will be in determining the future of, well, pretty much everything. I’m not a pundit, but I do have some thoughts on the new year.

This sign offers good advice, albeit ungrammatically:

With the intense emotion floating around, “defensive boxing” seems like a good skill to have. Will you “learn to boxing” in 2020? I probably won’t (too conflict-averse), but I will obey this sign’s orders:

This is no time, I think, for “sitting or standing on the barricades,” and not only because it’s easy to fall off. I’ve resolved to educate myself, decide which side of an issue I’m on, and cross barricades whenever I can. I may even storm a few, but peacefully.

Realistically, here’s the sign I know I’ll follow:

You, too, will “do what you’ve got to do, to get through it.” I mean, what choice do you have?

Happy New Year to all!

I Can Only Hope

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When Pandora opened her mythical box and the world’s evils flew out, what remained was hope. In these signs, grammar and spelling and punctuation have taken flight. This post concerns what I hope remains. First, skill with scissors:

I hope the proprietors are good barbers, because the salon is certainly not wasting any energy inserting an apostrophe in kids’ (or kid’s, if only one child is welcome as a “walk-in”). Fortunately, men’s is properly punctuated.

This sign directs my hope to falling (actually, NOT falling) masonry:

What do I hope? That the company maintaining the exterior walls looming over my head in NYC is better at pointing, painting, piping, and venting than it is at spelling. Verticle? Seriously? Moving on to moving:

Here I hope that every client’s move is a great experience. Were I to use this firm (not that I’m going anywhere except on vacation), I would hope for better grammar (our employees our?) and punctuation (safe positive?).

Last but definitely not least:

Where do I start? Spelling: seperate or softner? Subject-verb agreement: work include? Punctuation: double quotation marks for the first line and single for the second? And why any quotation marks at all? I think I’ll have this shop clean my clothes, which I hope will be handled with more care than this sign.

Hy-phen

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I couldn’t resist inserting a hyphen where it doesn’t belong, “hyphen” being, well, un-hyphenated in proper English. I hope the title balances the scales a bit, because so often hyphens are omitted where they’re sorely needed. In this sign, for instance:

Okay, I admit I’m taking this one personally. My name is Woods, and I do have a kitchen. I also have a “specialty” (grammar), but except when I’m trying to follow a poorly written recipe, my “specialty” and “cooking” don’t intersect. Hence the need for a hyphen. If I’m “Specialty-Cooking Woods,” I’m frying a predicate nominative or baking an adjective with, perhaps, an adverbial sauce. If the hyphen slides to the right, this company delivers “Specialty Cooking-Woods.” I prefer to think of those products as cedar, oak, or something similar, though if the owners pay me enough, I’ll make dinner. My specialty is “Clean-Out-the-Refrigerator Soup.”

Before I leave this sign, I should address “Gourmet Hardwood Charcoal.” A “gourmet,” the dictionary tells me, is “a connoisseur of delicacies.” Thus this sign evokes foodies chowing down on “hardwood charcoal.” This is not a hyphen problem. It’s a dental, or perhaps a “Don’t you have anything better to do?” problem. Next up, employment:

Leaving aside the “team” issue (though customers are often treated as the competition), I’m choosing to focus on “Part Sales Mate.” Huh? If the position is “part-sales,” what’s the other part? Or is the job selling a “part”? And what’s with the “mate”? Are the owners seeking a “part-mate”? Part-mate, part-something else? I’m leaving this one in the “life’s too short to worry about stuff like this” bin.

Last, for today at least, as hyphen-problems reappear as often as villains in superhero films:

Two townhouses? Two compounds, each with two buildings? And in a “double garden,” do the veggies and flowers appears in pairs?

That’s it for today. I off in search of a garden, single or double, with or without gourmet woods.

Venice

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No jokes today. I snapped this photo in Venice, where I spent ten wonderful days in October. The beauty of the city and the kindness of the Venetians won my heart. I intended to post this photo with my usual snarky remarks on phrasing and language, but I present it now, after (and during) the floods, as a tribute:

My heart is with those who support Venice, and its “defense for the survival of this dream of stones on water.”

Grammarian in a Watery City . . .

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The city being Venice, where I spent ten wonderful days and where at every turn I was startled by beauty, and, occasionally, by some creative use of the English language. Please note that I’m not criticizing here. How could I when I once wrote the Spanish-equivalent of “pitifully, I cannot accept your invitation”? As you read, imagine that I’m smiling gently at these menus. This one, for example:

I’d like to see a “cattlefish,” as long as it’s not stampeding toward me, leaving a trail of inky hoof-prints. Perhaps they reel it in with a lasso instead of a fishing pole?

Here’s another:

I won’t comment on “dishrealated.” I prefer to think of it as a positive, whatever it may be. I’ll just commend this restaurant for its “accurate procedure that leave unchanged the organoleptic qualities,” which, I discovered when I searched the dictionary, relate to the senses. In fact, from now on I’m ordering organoleptically. I also appreciate that the establishment is willing to engage with any “intolerance issue.” We all need help with that these days.

With “respect,” too:

And I thank you, dear reader, “for your delicate attention.” More on Venice when jet-lag abates.