Capital Offenses

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A completely unscientific survey of signs in New York City reveals that very few sign-writers understand the conventions of capitalization. Or perhaps they do, and don’t care. Or maybe the store owners wish to associate themselves with the iMac and iPad, with the hope that unconventional capitalization will lead to the level of success Apple enjoys. Regardless, capital offenses abound.

Some sign-writers opt for all caps:

Nothing wrong with this practice – on signs – though all-caps employed to “shout” in emails and blog comments can be quite annoying.

Other signs strew capital letters randomly:

Notice the “State of the Art Subway Line.” Nothing in Standard English calls for capital letters in those words. Perhaps the sign-writer was excited about the “Second Avenue Subway Project,” which I capitalized, as did the sign-writer, because that’s the name of something, in this case a construction site that was originally scheduled for completion years ago and, contrary to what the sign says, shows no sign of being ready by 2016 – or 2017, for that matter. By the way, in Standard English the word “the” is usually not part of a name and therefore is written in lowercase (non-caps).

One more capital letter sign, on a Fifth Avenue store:

Note “the Renovation”!

The usual practice is to capitalize the name of important historical eras, such as the Enlightenment (which lasted a century, give or take a few years) or the Middle Ages (which endured for maybe 1000 years). This store apparently believes that their construction work will go on for quite a while and hit the history books, or at least Wikipedia.

Full disclosure: part of this post was originally a separate page in the “Signs of the City” section, which I am slowing dismantling and placing in the “posts” portion of this site. As far too many signs say, sorry for the inconvenience.

What’s in a Name

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I’m a baseball fan, but even so I can’t avoid a flash of annoyance when I hear the term “World Series” applied to a set of teams based in cities as far north as Southern Canada, as far south as the Southern United States, and as far east and west as the North American coastline. True, players come from a larger assortment of countries than in earlier times, but a real “World Series” ought to include Japanese and South American teams, at the very least.

That said, it occurs to me that coming up with inclusive and sensitive names is a tough task. When I was preparing to study at the University of Madrid, my US-based Spanish teachers told me that the answer to the question “What are you?” was not “American” (americana) but the Spanish equivalent of “United Statesonian” (estadounidensa). If I called myself americana, the teachers explained, listeners would object because the term rightly applies to South Americans also. My teachers gave me one alternative – norteamericana (North American). No one seemed concerned about Canadians’ feelings, an attitude that unfortunately persists in many areas of US policy.

Of course, the very first time I fielded the “What are you?” question from a Spaniard, estadounidensa was met with a blank look and then “Oh, you mean you’re American.” Mindful of classmates from South America, Central America, and yes, Canada, I never could bring myself to say that I was an americana. So I settled on neorquina (New Yorker) and everyone was happy.

My family went through a similar process. My grandparents answered “Austrian” when asked about their homeland because their village was part of the Austro-Hungarian Empire when they emigrated. My parents claimed “Yugoslavia” as the ancestral site, while I say that my background is “Croatian.”

And then there are states. Some are easy (Californian, Texan, and New Yorker, though the distinction between the city and state in that last one may be problematic). But what do you call a resident of Connecticut? The only answer I’ve heard is Nutmegger, because apparently Connecticut calls itself “the Nutmeg State.” How widespread is that knowledge?

Can we keep up with partitions, annexations, and nicknames when we apply a name to someone’s ethnicity or citizenship? Probably not. The best policy may be to go for the detail (“her grandparents lived in Prague before World War II”) but this method crashes and burns when it hits the widespread American (oops – I mean United Statesonian) ignorance of geography.

I’ll stop here, hoping for suggestions on naming from anyone reading this post, because I don’t have a solution. Besides, it’s time to watch the “Miss Universe” pageant.

Traffic and other problems

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Full disclosure: This post used to be a “page” under the heading “Signs of the City.” I’ve decided to change pages into posts, as I include signs in nearly every post and my original notion of two separate categories didn’t work. So if the content of this post Iooks familiar, you’re not hallucinating.

I found myself staring at the sign (from the sidewalk) for several minutes, trying to decipher its meaning. See what you think:

And after 46th Street they turn into pumpkins?

A number of questions arise. First, why “passenger”? If more than one rider is present, is the taxis allowed in the bus lane? Second, what happens after 46th Street? Are any taxis allowed, with or without a passenger, or are no taxis allowed at all? No doubt you are thinking that the people who really need to know what this sign means – taxi drivers – already do, so clarity is unimportant. Not likely. I salute the hardworking, often immigrant drivers who brave NYC traffic daily, but I also know that many are hanging onto the English language with one toenail. I recall the driver who responded, when I asked him to take me to the Port Authority Bus Terminal (a place he had never heard of), “first day this America my.” That’s a direct quote, which brings me to my third question. How likely is it that a taxi driver will cause an accident while puzzling out the rules laid down by this sign?

This sign, on the other hand, is quite clear:

Avoiding double trouble

Handwritten, over-taped, and obviously heartfelt. This store wants NO PETS. The owner may discriminate against Fido, but at least the message is unambiguous. The head-scratching aspect comes from the repetition. Did the owner try a simple “NO PETS” line that failed to keep animals away? Or is the owner a proponent of the “more is more” philosophy of life?

Don’t ask me. I haven’t a clue. I haven’t a clue.

House, Home, and Hand

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I gnash my teeth whenever I see a restaurant or food store offering homemade pasta, pickles, or whatever. “Who lives here?” I want to ask the waiter or clerk. “Whose home am I eating or shopping in?” But of course I’m too inhibited to challenge someone nice enough to bring me food, even if the same person is overcharging me for my homemade meal. I say nothing and keep my very short, well-gnashed molars to myself.

What the restaurant or store means, of course, is exactly what this restaurant menu states:

House made! Hand rolled!

Instead of homemade, this orecchiette dish contains house made sausage. (I’d hyphenate the description, but I’m not quibbling.) The sausage is not shipped in, dried or frozen, from a factory somewhere in an area of the country where there’s room to cook ten thousand meals at a time so they can be microwaved one by one in the postage-stamp sized kitchens New Yorkers put up with. The comment about the lasagna in the above menu is even better; the pasta sheets are house rolled. I would buy anything described so eloquently! And before you hop all over me for not noticing that a house can’t roll or make anything, remember metonymy, the figure of speech that allows a closely associated term to substitute for something else – for example, the Oval Office for the actions of the executive who works there.

Another term that pops up all this time is handmade. Check out this sign:

Not sure about the “treatments,” but I like the “handmade.”

What beauty products await consumers inside this store? The sign implies that they are made on the spot, just for you, by a Luddite who shuns machinery. This scenario may even be accurate, though a recent court ruling – I kid you not! – held that handmade bourbon could legally be made with the help of machines, because everyone knows that you can’t make bourbon without mechanical help. Truth in advertising, never a strong point, bites still more dust with this verdict.

It’s enough to make you retire to your home to drink some handmade booze.

How’s that again?

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As a New Yorker, I’m used to oddities. I once waited for the green light on a midtown corner. It was raining hard. A fully-clothed woman standing next to me was calmly lathering shampoo into her hair. No one even blinked – including me. But these signs gave me pause.

First up is this one, which I saw on the window of a toy store:

A sidewalk inside?

I’m not sure what bothered me more: the location of the sidewalk or the idea of a private store selling a public sidewalk. Maybe it was the price. Ten bucks for a sidewalk is a real bargain.

And then there’s this notice from the same shop:

Does the stock get dental benefits?

Yes, I know that they mean “We are hiring people to work in sales or in the stockroom,” but I’m a grammarian, so I’m picky. It comes with the territory.

One more, from a pharmacy:

How about your “ill being”?

To talk about one’s happiness and health, you need the term well-being (with a hyphen) or wellbeing (one word). When you separate the two, the word well describes being. Presumably the pharmacy isn’t interested only in those whose being is happy and healthy. I’d like to think that they are also committed to people who aren’t feeling well.

That’s enough pickiness for one day. Be well!

Playing Favorites

Fisherperson?

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Some years ago, while I was teaching Elizabeth Bishop’s poem “The Fish,” a student stumbled over the proper term for the person who caught the animal. He started out with “fisherm…” and then stopped himself and went with “fisherperson.” Fisherperson? Really? I consider myself a feminist, but even I was taken aback by this word. It was fair, of course, because both men and women go fishing. But it sounded like something a late-night television host would mock. Yet what is the alternative? Fisher? Trout-worker? Marine life catcher? Perhaps letter carrier and firefighter also sounded strange when they first entered the language in place of postman and fireman.

I thought about this issue when I saw this sign on a construction project:

A single-sex project.

Only men work there? Or are only the male workers dangerous? Neither meaning is likely, so the sign is incorrect. The habit of assuming that a male term is understood to include both men and women – the “masculine universal” – has been out of favor, and for very good reason, for many years. Yet “MEN AND WOMEN WORKING ABOVE” seems artificial. How about “DANGER: CONSTRUCTION ABOVE”? Or, “WATCH OUT! WE’RE WORKING UP HERE!”

Here’s another sign:

No more “busboys”?

Okay, busboy doesn’t work, not least because some of those doing this job are a couple of decades past boyhood (or girlhood). I can’t really support busser, as buss is a slang word for “kiss.” Table cleaner isn’t accurate, nor is plate remover. So, I’m stumped. Any suggestions?

The larger point is that language changes slowly, especially when it’s tied to a social movement, in this case feminism. And yes, gendered language matters. Children asked to draw a scene with cavemen hardly ever include women, while those asked to draw cave people more or less balance the sexes. So we do need these changes if we’re to see possibilities and eventual equality. Along the way, though, we may have to deal with some fisherpeople.

Expensive Words

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The old saying, “words are cheap,” isn’t always relevant when it comes to marketing strategy. Add an old word – especially one that appears British – and the price rises. In these signs, holdovers and resurrected terms signal merchandise that costs more and (they hope you’ll think) that is actually worth the extra money. First, pharmaceuticals:

An apothecary!

Chain pharmacies – Duane Reed, Walgreens, and Rite Aid in my neighborhood – could never be apothecaries. They emphasize price (as in low) and convenience. In my imagination, an apothecary wears a striped apron and requires a few minutes of polite chit-chat before filling your prescription or directing you to the toe-fungus section. (Not that I have toe fungus.) In a non-apothecary (the word apothecary applies to both the person and the shop), I don’t expect a discount. I do expect personal service and a gentle shopping experience.

I expect the same in this food store:

Not general items here. Only specialties.

No general food here. Only specialties.

Doesn’t purveyor sounds better than merchant? About 20% better, judging by the prices for the specialty foods within. Don’t go into this store searching for, say, a box of Wheaties or a Hershey chocolate bar. Instead, look for food with advanced degrees – of both pretention and price.

Every rule has an exception. This store, in NYC’s garment district, sells doo-dads that attach to clothing (buttons, lace, sequins, and the like). This banner features a blast from the past:

Not from a research study!

The term findings more frequently appears in connection with an inquiry, poll, or research project. In this sign, though, it means “tools or materials used by artisans,” according to dictionary.com. Comparing this shop with others on the block, I found lower prices and slightly scruffier décor in the findings store. (Or should I say shoppe?) Perhaps in this case, the owner modernized neither language nor prices.

I’ll keep searching for strange words, and let you know my findings.

Grammarian in the City

Snarky remarks on language I see and hear in New York City

Station(a) (e) ry

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