Category Archives: Now trending

Observing and all too often criticizing language trends

On the Bus

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Readers of this blog know that my topic is usually language. But today I’m putting words to one side and focusing instead on actions. Specifically, what I witnessed on a Manhattan bus yesterday.

I was staring out a window, oblivious to my surroundings, when I slowly became aware of a little stir. The man on my left was rooting around in his grocery bag. He pulled out a roll of paper towels, peeled back the cellophane, tore off one sheet, and then another. He passed both towels to the woman next to him, who in turn passed them to someone sitting beside her, who leaned across the aisle and gave them to a mom who had used up a hefty supply of tissues on her child’s very drippy nose. The mom smiled her thanks and said, “This is the America I want to live in.” We bus riders chorused our agreement. Someone added, “That’s why I live in New York.”

I don’t think New Yorkers have a monopoly on kindness, but I do believe we seldom get enough credit for the amount of kindness this city calls forth from its residents every single day. Yes, we’re impatient. Yes, we can seem – and be! – rude. But for people from such varied backgrounds, whose experiences and beliefs may fall as far apart as Earth and Jupiter, we manage pretty well. And often, like today, New Yorkers step up in surprising ways. My busmates understood how annoying a trail of mucus can be, both to the dripper and the dripped on. Perhaps they also grasped that the dripper/drippee toggle can flip in the blink of an eye (or the ah-choo of a nose).

The world feels like a cruel, hard place right now. I’m hoping paper-towel man thrives and inspires others with his kindness. He certainly inspired me! I’m not planning to carry around a roll of towels, but I have resolved to pay more attention and to help whenever I can. If enough of us resolve to do so, perhaps we can collectively toggle from despair to hope.

Mysteries

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No matter what else I’m reading, I always have at least one mystery novel on my nightstand. At the end of a long day of bad news — far too frequent, these days — I need to dip into an orderly world where justice prevails. Yes, I know some mysteries deviate from that pattern. I don’t read those. How do I know whether a mystery fits my criteria? I read the last page first. Real life is surprising enough! Plus, I nearly always forget the identity of the murderer by the time I get to the end of the second chapter.

When I’m out and about, I enjoy mysteries also. Sometimes they show up in an overheard comment: “He’ll do for a starter husband” (one twenty-something woman to another) and “Have you brought your business to a successful conclusion?” (dog walker to poodle). Before you ask, yes, these are real things New Yorkers said.

My favorite mysteries appear on signs. Here’s one:

No one can read this without wondering which ingredients the store won’t sell. Unethically sourced shea butter? Uranium? Magic beans? It’s a mystery.

Here’s another mysterious sign:

Let’s get practical: How does the site owner know what parents have said to their kids? Does telling children of the dangers of trespassing fulfill the parents’ obligation? (“I told you, now go and trespass if you want.”) Also, isn’t trespassing anywhere a dangerous activity? Or only on this site?

Another mystery:

I’m ignoring the subject-verb agreement error (Shower Caps should Keep, not Keeps). What I really want to know is whether there are Shower Caps that make hair wet. Also, is there a shower cap that keeps something other than HAIR DRY? Maybe there are Shower Caps for toes? Or belly buttons? Elbows, perhaps?

The mysteries presented here don’t conclude with justice triumphant, but neither do they honor the guilty. They’re just mysteries that add a little fun to my life and, I hope, to yours also.

This Holiday Season

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Who doesn’t love the holidays? Lots of people, actually. If you’re stressed out, I have some suggestions. First of all, ignore signs like this:

If it’s NEW it can’t be a TRADITION, not if you accept the dictionary definition (“a long established custom passed from generation to generation”). Besides, you’re probably too busy to add anything NEW to your to-do list.

If you’re absolutely determined to try something NEW, here’s a possibility:

DROP-OFF your CHILD and let peace and quiet descend. Brilliant! And if the kid comes back in less-than-perfect condition, you can always go here:

After you pick up your clean, neatly folded offspring, stash them in a drawer and head to the mall. But avoid this store:

Why would you buy something at a store promising to lower the price after you’ve plunked over some cash? Be wary of this shop, too:

The 99 CENT part sounds good, but what about the PLUS? Thousand-dollar T-SHIRTS, million-dollar UNDERWEAR . . . the sky’s the limit.

That’s all the advice I have today, except for this: Find a way to enjoy whatever holidays you celebrate, and find a way to help someone who needs it. I wish you all the joy of this holiday season!

The Language of Medicine

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Right around this time last week, a surgeon inserted a tiny camera and an equally tiny tool into the most poorly designed human joint. I refer, of course, to the knee. Seriously, Evolution, were you napping by the time you got to the middle of the leg? I was fortunate to have excellent medical care, and even more fortunate to have medical insurance. I am aware that many others are not so lucky. And before I move on to the language of medicine, I will climb — carefully, because, you know, the knee — onto my soapbox. Health care is a right, not a privilege, and our society should treat it as such.

During the past week I’ve thought a lot about the language of medicine. Not the scientific, but the ordinary terms. For example, what did I have? A procedure? To me that sounds euphemistic, like real estate agents’ calling an apartment “charming” (last renovated when Eisenhower was president) or “cozy” (comfortably accommodates two people, standing up). To me surgery is more serious, something that happens to a vital organ. Perhaps the middle ground is operation, a term useful for military invasions and public relations blitzes.

My procedure/surgery/operation took place in a facility, not in a hospital (a serious, stay-over place) or an office (less serious, with magazines in the waiting room) or a clinic (middling serious). The root of facility is facilus, Latin for “the means or unimpeded opportunity for doing something.” I’m not sure about the unimpeded part (see note above on insurance), but the facility I went to certainly did something. A good something! My knee feels better.

The last term is patient, from the Latin patior, “to suffer or endure.” I got off lightly, in this instance, with not much beyond soreness. I didn’t even have to be patient, because everyone involved in my procedure/surgery/operation kept to the schedule. I’m sure my future holds more medical (INSERT PREFERRED TERM HERE), because I’m senior/older/in my golden years/not dead yet. I can only hope everything proceeds smoothly, and that the insurance company approves.

Moody Blues

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The national mood, and, I must admit, my own mood, is so down that an elevator to the sub-basement wouldn’t reach it. What to do in response? Well, you can have a serving of this:

(Photo courtesy of my friend Catherine, who prefers grape jelly and proper spelling)

Judging from the muttering and sometimes shouting of Gripe(s) I hear, this is a popular option. However justified your Gripe, though, venting your feelings is a short-term fix at best.

An alternative:

(Photo courtesy of my friend Deborah)

In my experience, inflicting the SILENT TREATMENT on others seldom yields positive results. The target may experience the silence as agreement or worse, welcome it as a peaceful interlude.

What else can you try? Here’s a tempting option:

The problem with BREAKING, REMOTE or otherwise, is that at some point you have to put the pieces back together.

One more:

I posted this photo of a New York Times headline eight years ago, commenting on the repetitive nature of the expression Failing to Succeed. (What’s the alternative — Failing to Fail? Succeeding to Success?) But now I’m focusing on Giving Compromise a Try. Not on matters of principle, of course. But maybe finding common ground around the edges of less important disagreements can lead us, and our national mood, out of the sub-basement. Perhaps as high as the basement? Surely that’s not too much to ask?

Command Performance

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“Don’t tell me what to do!” I’ve said that a few times — sometimes screamed it! Thus you can imagine my reaction to these signs, which give commands I have no intention of obeying.

This one comes from a supermarket, where it hovered over a display of creamed corn:

The supermarket seems to be issuing a command to shoppers: “Don’t buy these! Can your own Vegetables instead!” Side point: If I did can vegetables, I probably wouldn’t be able to hit the rather small weight range specified in the sign.

Here’s another ill-advised command:

How do you Freshly Squeeze Organic Orange Juice? Does the Juice have private parts which you can’t Squeeze without being accused of acting Freshly? And if you Squeeze Juice, Organic or otherwise, don’t you end up with a mess, moisture and pulp flying everywhere?

Another command:

The definition of HANDICAP as a verb — for commands are imperative verbs — is “to impede” or “to make a task more difficult to do.” How do you HANDICAP an ENTRANCE? By placing sand in the hinges? Laying a speed bump in the doorway? Side (but important) point: I’d substitute “ACCESSIBLE” for HANDICAP. I’d also specify ON THE OTHER SIDE of what.

The first three signs are missing a D or an ED or an ED plus other letters. This last sign, which appeared on a van belonging to a renovation company, adds ED unnecessarily:

I’m not sure why a van, clearly transporting construction materials to a job, proclaims that it’s FINISHED PAINTING & CARPENTRY. Then again, lots of people complain that their contractor extends the work period to infinity. So perhaps a statement that they’ve FINISHED a job is smart advertising.

Here’s a command to you: Have a lovely Memorial Day, but pause a moment to think about the many, many Americans who have given their lives to preserve democracy, both here and overseas.

Traveling in New York

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I haven’t owned a car since 1975, so I pay close attention to notices concerning public transportation, the subject of this post. First is a recent headline from a publication that should know better:

Every bus in New York City carries a lot of people, but until I saw this headline I didn’t know that the Trump administration was on a bus. Perhaps that’s a protective factor. If someone volleys back at you while you’re on a bus, you’re a moving target. Side point: Is it possible to volley forward instead of back?

Moving on to subways, here’s a message that popped up on my phone:

Question: If we (presumably the MTA, which oversees public transit in New York) removed a train mechanical problem from service, shouldn’t the Northbound 6 trains run faster? With fewer delays? Also, does this notice imply that if a train mechanical problem is added, instead of removed, we’ll zip along more quickly?

Here’s a sign about the most common form of traveling in New York City — WALKING:

Lots of problems with this sign, but I’m interested in just one aspect, the reference to WALKING PASSPORT. I don’t know what your PASSPORT does, but mine is definitely sedentary.

This last sign doesn’t reflect my sentiments about my home city — except for occasional moments on a crowded bus or train when I yearn for a brief trip fitting this description:

Sadly, peace of mind is a rare commodity these days — in New York and, well, anywhere. If you locate a spot that qualifies, do let me know.

Covid-ersary #5

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It’s been five years since Covid upended everything. In those first, awful months, NYC shopkeepers put up notices about masks and social distancing. I photographed those signs because it seemed important to have visual evidence of a historic moment. Now, as I go through my files from that deadly period, I find other signs that describe what was happening. This one, for instance:

Air Duck. That’s what lots of us were trying to do, but you can’t really Duck something that is (a) everywhere and (b) necessary for life. Instead of Duck-ing AIR we had

also known as sitting in the living room and Zooming emotions to anyone who’d listen, then listening to them VENTING IN PLACE. Essential workers didn’t have the luxury of staying IN PLACE, of course, either with or without VENTING. They had to show up, do their jobs, and hope they’d survive.

Then there’s this sign:

In normal times I’m a shop-daily person, mostly at local stores. Sheltering myself from the virus meant that I did indeed NEED A DELIVERY. And it was PERSONAL: My safety was at stake. It was also sad. I missed the quick conversations at checkout, the overheard remarks in the aisles, the chance to decide whether the vegetables were ripe. It was PERSONAL for those making a DELIVERY, too. Among the poorest New Yorkers, they didn’t have the luxury of staying home. Like essential workers, they had to do their jobs, however risky.

Finally, here’s a sign I spotted on a well-masked walk:

I’m not sure exactly what Pharmaceutical CATERING is or whether it would have eased the need for VENTING IN PLACE. I suspect more than a few people turned to Pharmaceutical help of the not-strictly-medicinal kind, though probably not on the level of CATERING.

I generally end my posts with a quip, but the pandemic requires something more serious. So I’ll just say this, which is as PERSONAL as it can be: We should all be grateful to those who put their lives on the line — doctors, nurses, cops, firefighters, DELIVERY personnel, and many more.

Why I Love New York

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I love my city for many reasons, prominent among them its mix of cultures, with interactions that are not always easy but inevitably interesting. A few pictures to prove my point:

This was taped to the window of a small grocery store. For the non-Spanish-speaking, Buscamos means “we are searching for.”

This was on sale at an iconic NYC market:

Europe (French) plus South America (PERU) equals New York.

If you’re too busy to cook, you might consider eating this:

I have to wonder what they put in an Irish Bento Box.

Not so welcoming to Japanese food is this restaurant:

I’m not sure whether they sell NO SUSHI or refuse to sell it IF U DON’T HAVE I.D. (The subtitle for this photo should be “The Problem with Bulleted Lists.”)

In keeping with the pace of life in my hometown, I’ll keep this post short and reserve the signs for Russian mathematics, Brazilian Wax, Japanese dry cleaning, and German Kitchens for another international, New York day.

Perfectly (Un)clear

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Because I’m a baseball fan, the Superbowl serves primarily to remind me that pitchers and catchers will soon report to spring training. That’s why I’m posting this puzzling clip from an article about a baseball game played last season:

I’ve read Lorenzen’s statement several times, and I still can’t figure out what he meant when he said that his miss needs to be in off.

Nor can I decode this pair of signs:

It’s clear that they sell CIGARETTES. In fact, they sell All brands of CIGARETTES. But I can’t figure out why NOW is underlined in the top sign and ALL in the second, or why there’s one line under the first CIGARETTES and two under the second. Increasing exasperation? Or does the store slap up a new sign every time someone asks whether they carry a particular brand?

Then there’s this ad. No problem decoding the first two lines, but the third is another story:

How, exactly, are feet relived? If they’re selling a return trip to an earlier era, sign me up. I’d like my feet to trek back in time to relive the early 70s. Maybe the 90s, too. Definitely not the 80s or most of this millennium. That much is clear, at least to me. How about you?