Speaking in Tongues

Words have power, but first you have to know what they mean. The worst arguments I have ever been in had to do with words – and nobody involved in these disputes ever wants to back down. Who wins in the long run? I think it’s always the Average Bear.

Today I had a discussion – fortunately a pleasant one – with a former colleague who was writing a newspaper story which partly concerned a horse being stuck in the mud. She wanted to know if she could say “mired in the mud.” It sounded right to her, though it’s technically redundant, because “mire” IS mud. I looked it up, though, and thankfully found that “mire” (which Jim Morrison didn’t want to wallow in) could also mean slush or dirt – which in turn meant to me that my friend could safely specify and get away it. She was on the right track – it didn’t sound right to say it the “correct” way. The Average Bear would ask, “Mired in what?”

I almost lost my own newspaper job a few years ago, when I changed a headline from something about “running a gantlet” to “running a gauntlet.” I said, “Nobody knows what a ‘gantlet’ is – the readers will think we spelled it wrong.” So I put the “u” in it. Well, technically speaking, the gantlet is what you run, and a gauntlet is a glove -- that’s the thing you throw down. But what did Clint Eastwood run in that movie? Would anyone have gone to see it if it was called “The Gantlet”? I think not.

Sometimes the sticklers win out, and for this we have to go back to horses. A reporter wrote a story about a real estate developer “chomping at the bit” to finish a project.  Our editor was upset. “It’s ‘CHAMPING at the bit!’” he said. Not what the Average Bear would say, but I’ll cut him a little slack – he was from Kentucky, where they know their horse flesh.

But sticklerism is a dangerous path. When I was in college long ago, there was a guy in my dorm named Harry, whose hobby was lying in wait for victims to misuse or mispronounce English words. He threw down the gauntlet (right this time), wanting us to take issue with him so that he could triumphantly shove a dictionary in our faces, opened to the appropriate page, to demonstrate that we were wrong. Not long ago, I went to look Harry up on Facebook, but couldn’t find him. Not surprising, because I don’t think he was allowed to live much past the age of 30.

My favorite example of the Average Bear’s power is “chaise lounge.” That’s what we call that thing out by the pool, originally called “chaise LONGUE,” French for “long chair,” which is what it is. But lounging is what it’s for, said the Bears, who always win -- because language is a living thing. As for the chaise, I’m going outside to rest my body in it – along with my case.