[Front matter: Christmas pix to come--maybe. They aren't uploading. I tried it three ways. Blogger said the pix uploaded--three times. As you see, they aren't here. But I want to post this before I leave for NY for Christmas, and I'm out of time for futzing with it. So consider this an almost-final, image-free draft. ]


Noel, Yes!

or There's Something About Merry

Without apology, I say "Merry Christmas." I like to. It's fun. Starting about mid-December I say it to friends and neighbors, salespeople and deli clerks, bank tellers and barristas, and sometimes the stranger chatting with me in the PO or Lotto line.

I've been saying "Merry Christmas" all my life, and I'm not going to stop now--not unless actual individuals I've said it to ask me not to. And I'll gladly oblige, out of respect--but not for the dubious benefit of society at large. Don't even consider asking me not to say it as a matter of some misguided "larger principle."

However, this installment of The Dicta Diva isn't about what you think it's about.

First, some common sense, common courtesy. If I know that the person I'm greeting is Jewish or Muslim, Buddhist or Wiccan or even atheist, of course I'll wish that person a Happy [your holiday here]. The first time, at least. If I see them again during this, the season of greetings, chances are they may get a cheerful "Merry Christmas" from me the next time.

Here's the thing: No one I've Merry Christmas'd has ever expressed to me that they were offended, not in word or deed or grimace. All this PC hoo-ha would have us believe otherwise, but in my experience, not so. Occasionally they'll set me straight. Fine! I appreciate it. Some will "Merry Christmas" me back, or just a "You, too!" That's great, possibly even generous.

So why is it they don't express offense or unhappiness, when the headlines and headliners are full of it this year?

I think I know: Because I'm a person, not a Wal-Mart. I think people understand I'm speaking "my own language," in a sense, and that I mean what I'm saying. I think they know my Christmas greeting is from the heart, 100 percent genuine if not 100 percent apt. And so they "translate" accordingly--just as I do when someone wishes me Happy Hanukkah.

Hey, I'm delighted just to be greeted in the spirit of the season! I don't get into a snit if they wish me a Jubilant Solstice or a Joyous Festivus, do I. I'm happy to have their holiday good wishes, even if their holiday isn't mine. Because if you think about it, it's all the same sense of celebration but with a different name, a different cause, a different set of traditions.

God rest ye merry

I like "Merry Christmas!" for reasons that have nothing to do with "the reason for the season" and that sort of thing. (By the way, have you seen Harry Smith's History Channel program on Christmas as we know it? Very informative on that point and many others. Entertaining, too. Sure to be repeated.)

"Merry Christmas!" is exuberance. It's an expression of the optimism and sparkle of the season. You can't say it without a smile on your face and a little skip in your step. And doesn't "Merry Christmas!" have far more heart and excitement than the insipid "Happy Holidays" or the dead-flat "Season's Greetings"? Not to mention the uninspired (and often whiny ) "Have a great day" we all give and get the rest of the year.

Brits say "Happy Christmas"; so would the nuns at Sts. Peter & Paul when they remembered. But it simply doesn't have the same jingle-bell ring.

I like the way "Merry" sounds next to "Christmas." All those R's and S's, and the E sound in the middle. They can go as long as you want them to. And they're downright jaunty, like bells on bobtails.

Here's something else: I love my late Italian grandparents' joyous, boisterous "Meddy Cree-sah-meese!" I loved it then and I love it now, and I take credit not just for keeping it alive but turning it into family shtick. I'd say it every year to my mom, my sister, my son and several long-time friends--some Jewish, some Buddhist, and one atheist. Now we all do it.

One more: Ever since I was little, I thought of the word "merry" as red--like a cherry, I suppose. (How's that for word association!) I still do. And the C in "Christmas" is green the final S is yellow (who knows why). I somehow decorated the greeting. Perfect!

And maybe we all do, in a sense. Maybe that's what comes through. Maybe that's why no one I greet "inappropriately" seems unhappy with my greeting.

So here's my Christmas wish: That you know it's not my intention to offend you or anyone with a friendly Merry etc., or to impose my beliefs on anybody else. There are plenty of zealots out there who love to do that. I'm not one of them.

With two little words I'm simply sharing a lifetime's worth of Christmas: A little kid's sleepless anticipation of Santa's munificence (or malfeasance!) . . . pine trees aglow with the big glass balls and bubble lights Mom & Dad bought in Occupied Japan . . . the crinkle of tinsel made of metal, not Mylar . . . the smell of pine and candles and cookies . . . the sound of carols and bells and Gregorian chant . . . the tree in Rockefeller Center, Saks' windows, and St. Patrick's in red velvet ribbon and poinsettias . . .

These and other countless details of my childhood memories add up to the ghosts of Christmas past, the Christmases I love. They add up to many a Merry Christmas.

So why would I not wish everyone all of that fun and excitement and light and joy? All right, then: Call it what you will, and so will I, and we'll continue to understand each other's message perfectly.

Merry Christmas to all! And to all, a good night.

Where's Al?

Al + though: The case of the missing morpheme

You remember Al, known for close relationships with ready, ways, most, so and, on certain more formal occasions, beit. Sometimes Al keeps bad company with right or that odd one, ot.

We always used to see those two nudged up against each other, shoulder to shoulder, to start a sentence or a clause. United, although means much the same thing as while or despite that. But Al doesn't appear with though very much anymore. And after so many years, too. They used to be inseparable. Can't help but wonder what caused the break-up.

Well, these things happen: two parties grow apart and go separate ways. Everyone adjusts and carries on. Good. It's all about adapting, evolving.

Trouble is, too many people have not only accepted this split, they've helped it along. Without much concern for either of them, they're forcing though to get the job done without any help from faithful old pal Al. Lately, surprising numbers of writers aren't inviting Al anymore, and though by itself is doing more of the heavy lifting--but clearly isn't up to the job. Example:

"Though they took the alibis into account, the jurors found the defendants guilty."

No, no, no. Sounds awkward, and is technically wrong: though is straining under the burden of being the first to arrive, not to mention the weight of that capital T. Needs an assistant. If Al isn't available, ask Even. Gotta have one or the other:

"Although they took . . ." or "Even though they took . . ."

For me and many others, coming upon a solo though where Al should be leading the way results in a painful coup de mot (or "word attack," as a reading specialist once put it). If Al isn't there and should be, it's as if my brain just got beaned, or I've caught my heel in a lexical hole where a paver should have been.

Stand-alone

Complicating the matter is that though has meaning in its own right, and can stand alone as a comma-pair "aside." In mid-sentence it works like however: "The jurors were sorry, though, that the sentence was so harsh."

(By the way, while I'm thinking of it: though is incorrect as a substitute for if. "As though"? As if!)

What amazes me is that more and more writers use although and though interchangeably. I've seen it in countless articles in the NYT, Chicago Trib, Time and many other majors. How do these writers determine when to use which? I can't figure out their rationale from the context. Or is it just "lazy writing"?

Here's an example: Scott Joseph, restaurant reviewer for the Orlando Sentinel, managed to use both although and the erroneous though in two identical constructs within the space of about 30 words (itals mine):

"Both are stylishly hip, though in different ways . . . They part ways in the area of food, although both serve a similar mix . . ." ["Beluga is very good," OS, 6.4.06.]

Go ask Al

I'm glad that many writers are still meticulously consistent in the correct use of although, bless 'em. And it's true that at some point, usage rules will catch up with the increasing misuse of though.

But they haven't yet, so please ask Al to show up.

Eh, Condo, Condo Italiano!

Has anyone else noticed how many condo
developments, both new and newly "converted," now have Italian (or Italianate) names?

So do some new single-house communities.

It seems Under the Tuscan Sun influenced not only travel, farmhouse renovation, kitchen design, home dec and furniture (including the author's pricey and overwrought "At Home in Tuscany" line), but has now reached developers and promoters of clusters of condominia and single-home enclaves.

For decades, American developers triggered our inner Anglophile by concocting names that sounded veddy English. In fact, there was and apparently still is a "Col. A/Col. B" formula: tree, flower, bird or other animal + topography and/or water: Stonybrook Hills, Victoria Park, Foxmoor Lakes, Osprey Ridge, Woodland Acres, Bay View Oaks et al.--even if the builders clear-cut every tree, and there isn't a waterway for miles.

Then in the '70s they gave us a little French: Chateau This, Maison That. Is there a town in America that doesn't have a Vieux Carré? The French were nestled among the growing proliferation of Spanish that featured plenty of "Buena" and "Vista" throughout the land.

But in the last year or two Italia has invaded the land, and now developers are spewing not just variations on "Tuscany" but who knows how many Italianate place names featuring "Bella," "Villa" and worse. Here are some I collected from property "signage" and recent ads here and elsewhere:

Bella Collina, B. Costa, B. Lago, B. Notte, B. Toscana
Bona Vista [Yes, they made it Bona, not Buona, the boneheads]
Capistrano Lakes
Fontana
Lago Vista
Montacino
Palma Bella
Portofino Vista
Serra Villa
Solana
Solivita
Trastevere
Toscana
Tuscany, T. Ridge, T. Hills
Urbana
Villa Capri
Villa Medici [I don't know how they say it, but this one really should be chee.]
Visconti

Next time you're out and about or reading the Sunday paper's Homes sections, see if Italy has invaded your part of the world. Send me what you find--I'd love to know, and I'll add them to the list.

Come se dice il mio nome? [How do you say my name?]

Meanwhile, let's revisit "Montacino" for a minute. I was interested in this one because it ends with -cino, as my name does. And I got a kick out of what happened.

When I first saw the "coming soon" signs and, a couple of years later, the print ads for a chi-chi development known as Montacino, I wondered: is it Monta-chee-no or Monta-cee-no?

Here in the US, my many relatives on the Saracino side always pronounced our name Sara-cee-no, and so do I. Not Sara-chee-no, unless we're introducing ourselves to Italian-speaking Italians.

Then I heard it on the radio: Monta-cee-no. OK.

Then I heard it again a day or two later: Monta-chee-no. Che cosa? They changed it!

Either way is fine with me, but I have to wonder why the change: Did the Montacino marketing mavens decide that chee-no is "authentic" and cee-no isn't (despite that a bazillion Italian-Americans who have names with -ci say cee), and when? Did the voice actor get it wrong in that first spot, so they had to re-do it in a hurry? Or did the voice get it right but someone piped up and the mavens decided chee-no sounds "better" (upscale? romantic?) and "more authentic," so they changed the ad to make it Monta-chee-no evermore?

I don't know. But it did raise a personal question: Should I change how I say my own name?
No. To do that now would mean I'm taking cultural cues and a sense of self from developers! (Besides, I'm already "authentic.")

Funny thing, though: I did think about this long before Montacino came to town. During several weeks in Italy a few years ago, I reconnected with my Italian-ness. Saying and hearing "Leen-da Sah-dah-chee-noh" countless times a day touched on a depth of identity I quite enjoyed and still do.

So I seriously considered changing how I say my name for good. Not the full-blown Italian version, of course: obviously "Leen-da" etc. isn't at home here.

But "Linda Sara-chee-no" would be, and surely more at home (and authentic!) than a condo called Toscana, Urbana or Montacino--no matter how they say it.

Photo © 2004 Jon Resh, Undaunted Design

Nyoo spelingz? Noe, thanx.

As if the prospect of trying to make English the "official" language of the US isn't problematic enough, the "EZ-spel" folks are at it again.

cat, k-a-t, cat . . .

Standardized spelling ("orthography" in the trade) is short on history but long on importance. And yes, it's quirky. That's because English is a greater meld of more languages and linguistic influences than any other. And with that comes all the quirks. Everyone knows they're tricky to master, but millions have managed it and millions more are working on it. Besides, that's what dictionaries are for.

So: what's the problem with "EZ-spel" (my own term for it) if it helps kids? If a simplified spell-the-way-you-say-it system promotes reedeeng en rydeeng among the school-age set, what's wrong with that?

Let me count the ways.

1. Who decides? Well, the writer does. EZ-spel is a written form of each writer's idiolect—the individual way someone speaks. But no two people speak exactly the same way. Now what?

2. What about dialects? If someone with a strong southern accent (technically, "dialect" within the same language) does the writing and someone with a strong accent from, say, the Bronx or Burlington reads it, will it make more sense to that reader than standardized spelling does? Not likely.

3. What about non-native speakers of English? If they speak with an accent, will they apply EZ-spel according to how they pronounce American English?

(Just to be understood across the linguistic-diversity divide, wouldn't we eventually have to standardize EZ-spel? Which, it seems to me, would defeat its stated purpose.)

What about Brits? "Separated by a common language," multiplied exponentially.

It was a Brit, of course, who first standardized English spelling. Before Samuel Johnson's Dictionary of the English Language in 1755, English on paper was a capricious, often chaotic exercise, no matter how learned or articulate the writer. Dr. Johnson's 42,773 words, definitions and spellings brought order to that chaos, and it endures.

4. What about people who have lisps or other speech impediments?

5. How does EZ-spel distinguish sounds without inventing new symbols or borrowing some from the International Phonetic Alphabet? Three obvious examples: the voiced th in "the" vs. the unvoiced th in "think" . . . the u in "push" or "could" . . . the ai in "air" (I got a million of 'em). It can't.

6. What of all the works already in print? Do they get translated into EZ-spel? Or must kids (the same ones EZ-spel is supposed to help) just do without Shakespeare, Fitzgerald, the Brontës, the Bible, Little Golden Books, Dr. Seuss? Even Harry Potter on paper would be lost to them.

7. What about legal documents--wills, laws, contracts, the Constitution? What about traffic tickets, tax forms, bank statements?

8. Translations: How would that work without standardized spelling?

9. What would happen to spelling bees? crossword puzzles? Scrabble?

10. What about the rest of us? Do we have to learn a whole new orthographic system—re-lurn how to reed en riyt? And on some dystopian day does the generation gap get wider? Mostly older people who can read and write standardized English vs. thuh yungr peepl hoo doo it thee EZ-spel wae.

And finally . . .

At what point do you teach kids real (OK, standardized) reading and writing after EZ-spel? How do you do it? And can you do it? It's a given in sports that it's harder to un-learn lazy bad habits than it is to learn the right way the first time. Same here.

Just yoo wiyt, Enree Igginz. [mentally insert My Fair Lady poster here: blogger is broken]

We can't "standardize" thought (although some will always try; that's another rant). But we did standardize how thought is expressed, and we need to keep it that way. That's communication instead of chaos.

Forcing a whole new spelling system is preposterous. Worse, dumbing down the written language isn't just pandering to the lowest common denominator: it's an insult to the intelligence of everyone who has learned read and write English and to those who will. And they will—as long as competent people are teaching them.

Words, meanings, pronunciations, spelling--these things evolve on their own (hence, a "living" language). Let it evolve.

Otherwise, if we think English is chaotic now, just yoo wite.

Say What?

Another in a series of ongoing lists. I hope you'll contribute!

If you happen to be with me almost anywhere—a café, or my car, or the produce section, or especially in front of TV—you’re likely to catch me saying a few words, sometimes with attitude. You'll think I’m talking to you, but I’m not. I'm not really talking to myself, either. I’m talking to, or back to, some thing.

It might be a poorly worded newspaper headline, or menu typos, or a sign that says "Pinaples $3.99" or the one directing me to MENS. Or it may be, and frequently is, TV news—local, national, CNN, any and all of them. Not the news stories per se (that would be another post), but the way broadcast newscasters—hometown anchors and eight-figure-salary stars alike—say some of what they say.

I'm talking pronunciation, or rather, mispronunciation.

"Mispro"

Nothing hurts my ears quite like the sound of a professional newster who mispronounces something.

So, wait: Am I "the very pineapple [pinaple?] of perfection" when it comes to pronouncing? Am I "The Princess and TV," whose sensibilities are so delicate that the wrong combination of phonemes precludes sleep? Am I the raging belle, ready to go a few rounds with [*name of newster here*]?

No. Nor have I memorized Miss Fussmuster's Guide to Good Diction and Declamation. But I know how to say an ordinary word like "mayoral," for example, and most of them don't. Why is that?

I’ve been called on my intolerance in front of the tube a number of times: "Not everyone knows what you know, you know." OK, and "everyone" doesn't have to.
But news people have to. In fact, they have to know more than I do, and that's the point:

They’re professional "news speakers." They’re paid to know.

They're paid to know and use good diction, good voice (tone, pitch), good rhythm (tempo, stress)—all of which they're trained to do . . . plus pronounce things correctly, which apparently they aren't trained to do.

What's in a name . . .

TV news depts. usually find out fast how to pronounce unfamiliar names (Phnom Penh, Mogadishu, Shiite), and they pass that on to the rest of us. When they get it right, we get it right.

Not that they always succeed. Example: When opera diva Licia Albanese came to town, a newscaster butchered her name at 6:00 pm, prompting me to do something I'd never done. At 6:20 I called and left a pleasant voice-mail inviting the newswoman to call me. And she did! She said she'd been struggling with the name all day and was happy to get my message. I coached her on the spot, and on the 11:00 broadcast she had it right.

Sometimes it’s the name of something that will soon be an everyday thing. But if the newsters mispronounce it, so will most of the rest of us. The "mispro" germ spreads fast and goes deep, and everyone soon believes the wrong way is the right way.

Here's one: bruschetta, that tasty, toasty Italian snack. Many morning-show types, some celeb chefs, and restaurant servers everywhere (even in Italian restaurants—yet another post) say "brushetta." But sch = sk in Italian, and the only correct way is "brusketta."

But non-English names aren't the big problem. The big problem is that newsters manage to mangle everyday American English. The fact is, a surprising number of them get some very ordinary words wrong—and they get a lot of the same words wrong.

And regional dialect (accent) has nothing to do with it, by the way. If you’re from the South, you probably say insurance; well, OK. But if a newster is from the South, not OK. In "media English," as newspeak is sometimes called, traces of a home-grown accent might come through, but they're almost imperceptible unless you're listening for it.

List-en up!

So here's the first installment of my Mispro List. The correct way to say the word comes first, then the incorrect way. (That is, as best as I can render with the regular alphabet. Plus maybe by the time I put up another list, I'll have figured out how to create columns. But for now, this is my best shot.)

accessory: ack-sess-erry, not uh-sess-erry

affluent: aff-floo-int, not uh-floo-int (Same goes for affluence.)

amphitheater: am-fih-theater, not am-puh-theater (Also see theater below.)

curator: kyoor-ate-er rather than kyoor-ate-er (Not "wrong" but not quite right.)

exquisite: ex-gwizz-it, not ex-gwizz-it

insurance: in-shoor-ince, not in-shur-ince

mayoral: may-er-ull, not may-yore-'ll (An epidemic! I'm tempted to run for mayor just so someone says it right!)

pamphlet: pam-flit, not pam-plit

picture: pick-shur, not pitch-er

Realtor: ree’ll-ter, not ree-lid-der (PS This is a registered word, and always takes a capital R.)

recognize: reck'gg-nize, not reck'n-ize

reprise: ruh-preez, not ruh-prize (You listening, Matt Lauer? Pleez!)

restaurateur: ress-ter-uh-terr, not ress-ter-ahn-terr (You again, Matt. There's no n in restaurateur.)

route, en route: root, on root; not rowt, enn rowt (Very common, but wrong. Oh, those countless traffic-casters who say "rowt." Ow.)

theater: thee-(uh)-durr, not theed-er (Gen X? LA? A growing trend. Remember when the mispro used to be thee-ay-durr? Not so much anymore.)


Send 'em if you got 'em

Newscasters committed every one of these. Lauer's by no means the only one, but because he’s so polished—the very model of a modern major newster—it's always a shock to hear a mispro coming from him.

There are more—there will always be more. I’ll be adding to the Mispro List; and if you have good examples, I'll add them, too. I'd love to see them!


PS Thanks to Charlene Davis, The Ditzy Dog, for encouraging me to make this my first big rant.

Apostrophe Rant #1

When writer Jacquelyn Lynn learned about this blog, she asked if we can rant about apostrophes. Yes! That's just the kind of response I was hoping to elicit. So I invited her to have at it, and she did. Thanks, Jackie! And I invite all of you to contribute examples, too.

* * *

One of the most misused punctuation marks is the apostrophe. This little symbol that looks like a comma but is at the top of [the] line has two purposes: to indicate the omission of a letter or letters from a word (does not, doesn’t), and to indicate the possessive case (belongs to Mary; Mary’s). Do not use an apostrophe when making a word plural.

Of course, like so many elements of English, there are a few exceptions. For example, you don’t need an apostrophe to make a personal pronoun possessive (mine, ours, your, yours, his, hers, its, theirs, whose). If you use an apostrophe with a pronoun, it should only be when the meaning calls for a contraction (you’re, it’s, there’s, who’s).

It amazes me how often the apostrophe is misused in published material that one would think has been proofread. The Apostrophe Protection Society has some great examples on its site at http://www.apostrophe.fsnet.co.uk/index.htm. Here are just a few:

Parking – Resident’s and Visitor’s Only

Its all about passion

Reserved for Principals Office

Lush cosmetic’s, CD’s, video’s, book’s, gift’s

Dear Passenger’s:

Major Wedding Dresse’s Exhibition

Its the law

How would you like your’s done?

At best, an incorrect apostrophe is just funny; at worst, it changes—or essentially destroys—the meaning of a phrase or sentence. And it always makes a very telling and uncomplimentary remark about the writer.

Jacquelyn Lynn

* * *

I'd love to see more examples of wild and amazing apostrophe abuse, so send 'em if you got 'em. Let's keep this list going!

The Dicta Diva

Welcome to Dicta!

Dicta!is all about words: Thoughts, comments and critical musings--starting with mine--on how American English is misused and abused all over the place. (Let me count the ways!) And occasionally, praise for a phrase or whatever that's, well, word-perfect.

In this space you'll see plenty of examples and specifics, and now and then a refresher on some rule of grammar or syntax or punctuation or pronunciation to illustrate a point and remind ourselves why it matters or doesn't matter, as the case may be.

I hope you'll comment, and contribute real-life examples, too--possibly even from something I've written. (It'll happen: perfectionists aren't perfect.)

Stay tuned. Should be fun!