The Citizen, 1999-10-13, Page 5THE CITIZEN, WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 13, 1999. PAGE 5.
Arthur Black
How do you spell
komik releef?
Andrew Jackson, aside from being the
seventh U.S. President, was also a bad speller.
Once, while trying to decide whether the word
he wanted was ‘constitution’ or
‘konstitooshun’, Jackson threw down his quill
pen and roared, “It’s a damn poor mind that
can think of only one way to spell a word!”
Jackson was right. Bad spelling is no
indication of low intelligence.
Look at Farley Mowat.
The man writes like a dream but he can’t
spell worth a damn. I know - in a previous
incarnation as a sub-editor, I got to edit one of
his manuscripts.
But for a fine writer like Mowat, there’s no
shortage of drones to take care of messy
details like spelling and punctuation. Some
poor spellers aren’t so lucky. Take the tattooist
who did a job on Joe Beahm last month.
Beahm had come into Body Art World, a
tattoo joint in Asbury Park, New Jersey, with a
special request: he wanted a tattoo on his back
®1 International Scene
By Raymond Canon
Visiting vocabulary
When I was in kindergarten we had a
potpourri of activities. We had a teacher who
stood arms akimbo near the exit of the
classroom and said au revoir to each of us as
we left.
To us she was nothing less than tres belle;
she never seemed to make a faux pas and she
wore chic clothing which we considered the
dernier cri, with foulards, but nothing
decollete.
She had travelled and filled us with stories
of chateaux in France, polders in Holland,
fjords in Norway and gondole in Italy. Her joie
de vivre was infectuous and her life seldom
filled with Schadenfreude.
Ours, on the other hand, was a continual
Sturm und Drang.
I think back on all the teachers I had in the
six countries in which I went to school. The
good ones were au courant with their subject
and taught with elan and panache, the bad ones
with ennui.
The latter taught ad nauseam in a
monotonous fashion as if there were nothing
of interest. They were au fond babysitters
looking after a coterie of teenagers, or were
simply enroute to retirement. Whether they
were compos mentis remained unanswered.
We were convinced that only a deus ex
machina could get us out of their clutches.
Fortunately such teachers did not render
reductio ad absurdum or drive to get educated.
Our periods of mental mal de mer were
outnumbered by days when, mirabile dictu, we
turned out competent work.
Even I, who drew flak from the art teacher
who wrote me off as the class enfant terrible,
\
\
depicting a knife stabbing into his shoulder
blade. Under that, he wanted the words “Why
not ? Everybody else does.”
“It was just something funny that I had in
my mind,” says Beahm.
Funnier than he knew. When the blood dried
and the tattoo was visible, the legend beneath
the knife read, in letters a quarter of an inch
high:
WHY NOT?
EVERYBODY ELESE DOES
Now, Joe Beahm is bad-mouthing the
tattooist and the tattooist is suing Beahm for
slander.
Meanwhile, Joe Beahm is keeping his shirt
on.
Spelling turned out to be fairly critical in the
streets of Hartford, Connecticut last week as
well.
Literally ‘in the streets’.
You know those road-painting contractors
who get to stencil white lines, arrows and
traffic directions on city streets - signs like
NO LEFT TURN or QUIET, HOSPITAL
ZONE?
Well, there’s one road painting contractor in
West Hartford who might be looking for a new
line of work. He’s the guy responsible for
spray painting, all over town, in three-foot-
managed to draw at least one chef d’oeuvre
although the teacher saw it as something less
than a tour de force and damned it with faint
praise. I immediately relapsed into mediocrity
and could hear the teacher muttering
something about ex nihilo, nihil fit.
But tempus fugit. We found ourselves in
university. What a brouhaha! Trying to
produce a magnum opus when we were
confused, intimidated, insecure.
But it was sauve qui peut; for many it turned
into a Goetterdaemmerung of Wagnerian
proportions. It was easy to believe we were no
longer part of the hoi polloi; in truth we were
of a different kind.
The practice of dolce far niente was for
some quite a la mode. These elitists acted as if
they were always cognoscenti of everything
but at the end of the year the university, with
typical sang froid, said in effect: “Ciao amico”
and rendered tjjem hors de combat.
The rest of us sang Gaudeamus igitur and
collected our degrees.
The piece de resistance of my studies were
sports. Hockey, for one, was great if I could
avoid being given the coupe de grace by the
opposition.
Soccer was easier on me; it kept me on the
qui vive and they both provided a physical
alternative to mental study.
As they used to say, mens Sana in corpora
sano.
At any rate I avoided being academically
A Final Thought
What’s going on in the inside shows on
the outside.
- Earl Nightingale
high letters:
SLOW DOWN
SCOHOL ZONE
Maybe I’m wrong - maybe the city will give
him his road-painting job back - providing he
signs up for a remedial spelling course at night
school.
The late comedian Peter Sellers had a low
tolerance for bad spellers. When he received a
request for “a singed, autographed photo
graph” Sellers gleefully hauled out a cigarette
lighter, burned the edges of an 8 by 10" glossy
of himself and popped it in the mail.
Two weeks later, he got another letter from
the fan thanking him for the photograph, but
wondering if he could trouble him for another,
as “the one you sent is signed all around the
edge.”
Then there’s the story of the professor
correcting an essay by a student who wrote
about his holiday in Venezuela. The student
kept writing the word ‘burrow’ instead of
‘burro’.
The professor corrected it once. Twice.
Three times.
Finally, in exasperation, he wrote in the
margin.
“My dear sir: it is quite apparent that you do
not know your ass from a hole in the ground.”
kaput. Like Donner and Blitzen I delivered the
goods to the illustrissimi professori when it
counted and ended up ipso facto with the
necessary degrees.
With all the other economists, I could then
say caeteris paribus every fourth sentence.
I said adieu to academia, at least as a
student.
The real world was filled with an economic
and social smorgesbord. We aspired to the haut
monde without quite being sure how not to
commit professional harikari. Some of our
efforts took on kamikasi tendences, others
convinced everybody we were totally gauche
or loco or both.
Now and again, however, our efforts showed
signs of a certain savoir faire, a je ne sais quoi
of maturity which were a sine qua non for the
world of marriage and child-raising.
But voila! C’est fini.
If you have struggled to the end, you should
realize what I am trying to do. Simply, to show
you how many foreign words and expressions
have crept into the English language at one
time or another.
There are 83 of them in the article. How
many did you get?
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Moments to remember
The days may come, the days may go,
But still the hands of memory weave
The blissful dreams of long ago.
— George Cooper
While shopping the other day, I saw an
elderly woman. Lovely white hair done in
tight little curls, she was a five foot sprite,
quick stepping it through the store with
admirable alacrity.
As we passed, she glanced at me and
smiled, and I was amazed to feel my heart
warm. It took barely a second for me to realize
that though it was a face unfamiliar, she was
no stranger. Some subtlety, some nuance was
reminiscent of my grandmother and in the
brief instant that I became a child again I felt
a fondness, a tenderness, for this unknown
woman.
Memory is an amazing thing. It can be
playful, tricking us, conjuring images that
over time take on very different proportions or
meanings. Its sentimentality forgives us
embellishments or rose-coloured glasses.
Conversely, it can be constant, the only
thing linking us to the past, to someone or
something once so very dear. We will forever
remember a face so cherished, affection given
so generously, a love so treasured.
I’m often fascinated by things that tweaked
a certain memory or the feeling that a specific
memory can arouse. For example, the scent of
peonies plays back a rotogravure of wonderful
moments in grandma’s garden. The fragrance
is bittersweet as I find myself at once missing
her, yet gladly revisiting her face and those
summers.
Or a certain laugh, heard from afar at a party
will discomfit as my subconscious recalls it
reminds me of someone best forgotten and I
force the unwanted recollection back.
A song, a saying, a voice can cause a
thought to jump from its hiding place, then
consequently, that thought pulls out an
emotion, perhaps pleasant, perhaps not so.
It is memory that keeps me a lithe and
bouncy 16 when world-weariness stresses my
achy joints. It is memory that enhances
parenting skills, giving me confidence as I
recall myself at various ages and how each
situation turned out. It is memory that helps
me to understand why people are who they
are, as I look back to consider how life shaped
me.
It is interesting to think that each day is
about creating and collecting a series of new
memories. From conversations with co
workers to chats with our children, from
experiences to adventures, we file away
moments, some which will be remembered for
years to come, others which will only be
remembered for a specific purpose, and still
others that will be lost. Memories can restore
us, sustain us, unite us.
This past weekend my sister and I, while out
running errands took her daughter-in-law on a
guided tour of memory lane. We introduced
her to aspects of our past to which neither of
us had given much thought in recent years.
Through shared recollections and some
surprises we revived the bond of family and
offered a few laughs.
It was, like so many other days, a moment to
remember.