Tag Archives: English usage

Missing!

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Pretend that this post is pasted to a lampost and that the title is followed by “WANTED! DEAD OR . . . ” Well, just WANTED, because a letter isn’t alive. Which is not to say that a letter can’t be important. Take a look at this sign, which my granddaughter’s friend spotted:

Nice to know we’re CLOSE, whoever WE is. I can’t help wondering how CLOSE: Do we share every thought? Our streaming passwords? A toothbrush? And if WE’RE actually CLOSE, why can’t we see each other today? Must we wait until TOMORROW? (I’m ignoring U. Text-spelling has invaded every medium, like the Borg in the Star Trek universe. Resistance is futile.)

Also missing a letter is this place:

Like most eateries in Manhattan, this spot had so little room that Never Close was never true. With only a slight stretch, a diner at this Diner could easily snag a french fry from the next table. Did you notice the past-tense verbs? The Diner closed a couple of years ago.

If you’re a fan of animated films, here’s a business that might interest you:

In addition to a Tel-Fax number (abbreviated for privacy), this company provides direct-line contact information for two Cels. What’s a Cel? A crossword-puzzle creator’s favorite word (or an animation frame).

That’s it for today. Or, in keeping with the theme of this post, That’s it for toda.

We the People

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On July 4, 2022, I wrote a post about Independence Day. At the time I believed that Americans were as divided as they ever could be — two groups peering at each other across the deepest chasm possible. I was wrong. Over the past four years, the division has grown more bitter, the chasm deeper. It doesn’t have to be this way. We can, and must, return to our roots. We must remember that America was designed for interdependence as much as for independence.

Consider the country’s name, which declares that individual entities (States) are made one (United). The same ideal appears in America’s traditional self-definition (melting pot) and motto (E Pluribus Unum — “Out of many, one“). The Preamble to the Constitution begins “We the people,” emphasizing unity.

Of course, the 18th-century people granting themselves rights in the Constitution excluded many Americans. In the Preamble, the Founders acknowledged that their work was flawed, declaring that they were striving for a Union that was more perfect — not actually perfect. And despite their shortcomings, the Founders’ goals were worthy: “to establish Justice, insure domestic Tranquility, provide for the common defense, promote the general Welfare, and secure the Blessings of Liberty to ourselves and our Posterity.” Note the capitalization: In the colonial era, writers employed upper case for emphasis. The capitalized words of the Preamble reveal that the Founders aimed for Justice, Tranquility, Welfare, Blessings, Liberty, and Posterity. Not a bad slate of goals.

Bearing these points in mind, I suggest that instead of focusing on the Declaration of Independence on this, the document’s 250th birthday, we instead celebrate the Preamble to the United States Constitution. At the very least, the Preamble’s minimal length (52 words) allows more time for barbecues. At best, the Preamble may prompt us to rededicate ourselves to Interdependence, to the notion that what’s good for All of us is good for Each of us. (Colonial capitalization intended.) With the Preamble as a focus, this divisive era may become less so, and a “more perfect Union” may be achieved. Happy July 4th!

March Madness

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This is not a post about a basketball tournament. It’s about what my Italian friend calls “Marzo Pazzo” — Crazy March. Judging from the weather last week, the month is accurately labeled. I was in Washington DC on Wednesday: it was 85 degrees and humid. On Thursday it snowed. This month in NYC I’ve toggled between “spring at last!” and “where did I put my heavy coat?”

As crazy as the weather are these signs, all of which I spotted this month. First up is a notice on a new building in my neighborhood:

You know the LEASING prices are high because it’s a COLLECTION of RESIDENCES. In my experience, those terms mean “we’re overcharging.” What’s crazy is ELEVATED. The building is about 20 stories tall. Shouldn’t the owner assume that prospective renters assume that they won’t have to climb the stairs to their RESIDENCES?

Speaking of elevators, I saw this sign in one:

Whenever I’m at Fairway Market, I know that I’m at Fairway Market. Does management think that people wander in, find the elevator, and then ask “Where am I?”

Here’s a sign I saw in the window of a shop selling gummies and other hemp-derived products:

I understand the HEALTHCARE part, but not ADJACENT EXPERIENCE. Readers, please send me your theories.

Last one:

This is the horrifyingly expensive price list for a parking garage on my block. (In case you’re wondering, I don’t pay these prices. I don’t own a car.) My reason for placing this sign in the crazy column is the third line, Exotic Add’l. I can decode Add’l — “additional.” But Exotic? No clue. Your thoughts?

I could end this post with a wish that you enjoy the rest of this crazy month. But given the times we live in, I’m ending this post with a wish for sanity — or at least something that’s sanity adjacent. We could all benefit from that!

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.

Private Lives

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In this age of social media, you might think that nothing is private. Think again:

I do my own laundry, but if I sent it to a LAUNDRY, I’d select this store. My clothing is on the shy side and prefers not to whirl around with others’ duds.

Here’s an odd take on privacy:

I’d love to see a definition of personal hygiene practices. If they’re prohibited, must you forgo handwashing after using these Restrooms? Also, why practices? Is personal hygiene one of those skills you have to spend 10,000 hours on to perfect? I snapped this photo in 2017, so perhaps the word practices is out of date. We all learned how to wash our hands during the pandemic, didn’t we?

This Private Property requires good posture:

Somehow I thought the decision to lean or not to lean was a private matter.

On a more personal (but not private) note, I wish you and your family a happy, healthy 2026.

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?

If you know, you know . . .

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A former student of mine recently put out a call for catchphrases unique to a family. If you’re in the family, you know the meaning. If you’re not in the family, you don’t have the faintest idea what’s going on. These signs fall into the “if you know, you know” category. They make perfect sense to somebody, somewhere, but they puzzle to the rest of us. Here’s one:

What does RADIANT TUBING do? And what is it radiating — joy, sunlight, cosmic rays? Why must we BEWARE? And does BEWARE mean “don’t come within three miles of this sidewalk” or “take your piledriver somewhere else”? Theories, or better yet, actual information, welcome.

Another enigmatic ad:

I live in the sort of neighborhood where doing one’s own chores is not a given. Even so, I’m surprised that someone would hire someone else for BREAKING a REMOTE CONTROL device. In my experience, all you have to do is throw the thing at a wall. The wall generally cracks, though. Maybe that’s a reason to hire a pro?

It’s well known that some of us are not technologically literate enough to figure out an app. So it would not shock me to see a service offering help with, say, downloading, installing, and using an app. But the service offered by this sign goes a step too far:

I don’t need someone to PICK-APP for me. I can select an app all by myself!

Last one:

No, this doesn’t refer to a haircare product. It concerns parchment paper. Does anyone actually measure and cut the paper and then reinsert it for Decurling? This definitely falls into the life’s-too-short category for me. I use my hands.

Wishing you well in these dog days of summer! If your family has a catchphrase, feel free to share it.

Something’s Missing

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Every once in a while I see a sign that’s missing something: a letter, a word, a punctuation mark, or, all too often, clarity. Consider this notice, which was chalked on an old-fashioned sandwich board near the entrance to a rather fancy (i.e. expensive) food store near me:

I’ve cropped the photo, but nothing I removed answers this question: Place your party platters & cake where? The sign appeared at the beginning of a holiday season, so presumably the store was hoping for advance notice instead of a same-day request to rescue a host who invited 235 people to a celebration despite having only two olives and a bottle of champagne in the refrigerator. Which I’m pretty sure in my neighborhood is not all that rare. My sympathy is with the sign-writer, who neglected to squeeze the word “order” into the message.

This notice, which my friend Andie sent me, is missing an important definition:

I’m guessing the store doesn’t want to Refund any money to its customers. But what does Redone mean? (And why are Refund and Redone capitalized?) If I buy a salad and report that it’s a bit vinegary, for example, will the store rinse off the leaves and apply new dressing?

I’ve held onto this sign for a while, trying to decide whether it’s an insult to neighbors (RESIDENT TRASH) or an attempt to fend off TRASH that turned tourist and went sightseeing inside this bin:

Theories welcome.

I doubt I’ll ever patronize this establishment:

Some crucial information is missing from this sign: How deep are the cuts? Are we talking scalp-scrapes or decapitation? Also, do the police know?

My late husband spotted this sign some years ago, in a major-appliance store that went out of business soon after he snapped the photo:

What’s missing from this label, of course, is a list of the food that comes with — w/ — this Refrigerator. Is it stuffed with macadamia nuts and caviar or leftovers from the manager’s lunch?

All joking aside, we’re all missing something these days. Whatever you’re missing, I hope you find it!

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.