It all happened in 2015, because our vacation home at Lake Havasu wasn’t being used enough.  After having had the place for almost fifty years, it was difficult to part with, but the expenses weren’t worth the one or two times a year the house was used.  So I sold it and did well on it financially.  My daughter suggested that instead of adding the income to the family trust, I should enjoy it with the family.  It sounded like a good idea, so I invited kids, grandkids, great grandkids, and shirt-tail relatives, adding up to a party of twenty.  A cruise of the Greek Isles was chosen because of its calm waters, in deference to my son-in-law and anyone else in the group who might suffer from sea sickness.  We would all fly to Venice, Italy, the embarkation location.  With twenty people planning to go on a trip, I was fearful that someone would get ill and need to cancel, but that didn’t happen.  We all made it!  My daughter Jeannette did the planning and worked with a travel agent, so all I had to do was hand over the credit card.

Some of us spent several days in Venice, Italy, a place that is now one of my favorite cities.  I loved traversing the canals via water taxi and found it exciting to enter our hotel from the water.  Of course, there were many places within walking distance, e.g. San Marcos Square and the gelato stand we visited daily.  We picked up souvenirs at Murano, known as the Glass Island, and Burano, the Lace Island.

We boarded the cruise ship on May 2^nd.  Our cabins were all on the same deck. I had booked a suite for myself so we would have what I referred to as “Party Central.”  I love company, so was always happy when my doorbell rang, even when I had planned to nap (I never did get a chance to nap).  The cappuccino maker turned out to be an invitation for visitors.  I know nothing about making cappuccino, or any form of coffee, for that matter, so every time someone dropped in for a cup, I’d summon my grandson to come and satisfy these requests.

Of course, I realized that we wouldn’t all be together all the time.  Everyone went their separate ways during the day, some in small groups and some in large groups.  But each evening, we all got together for dinner, where we had reserved two tables for the entire cruise.  Most evenings we would all go to my suite after dinner for various activities, among them a family trivia game originated by my grandson and his wife.

The first stop on the cruise was the island of Corfu, which I would call “The Kumquat Island,” because everything imaginable is made from kumquats:  liqueur, candy, cake, jellies, and much more.  This beautiful island is a favorite vacation destination.  

The next day we went to Santorini, a beautiful sight to see as the cruise ship approached, with all the snowy white buildings perched atop a hill.  When we went onto the island we were told we could get to the top “By tram or by donkey – same price.”  When one envisions Greece, this is probably the island that comes to mind.  Many movies were shot there, “Zorba the Greek,” “Mamma Mia,” “Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants,” and “Captain Corelli’s Mandolin,” to name a few.  My grandson and his wife rented a boat and invited me to join them. We took the boat to a lovey beach with black volcanic sand. My grandson and his wife cavorted in the clear blue water. I hadn’t worn my bathing suit, so couldn’t join them.  After the boat ride, we rode the gondola to the top of the island and had lunch while looking out over the ocean.

The next island we visited was Mykonos, known for its beautiful beaches and its pristine appearance, and it’s also known for its confusing streets that twist and turn, following no particular pattern. They were created in this fashion to confuse pirates, and tourists are confused as well, including us. All the houses and places of business are white, which is a requirement, the penalty for non-compliance being inaccessibility to the city’s water, sewers, or electricity.  The exception to the rule is that doors, shutters, and trim may be painted in bright colors – blue, green, or red.  With its underwater beauty, this island is also a scuba diver’s paradise.  Some of our party took a ferry to Delos, an island of ancient ruins, off the coast of Mykonos. One of my daughters felt her Greek trip wouldn’t be complete until she had some feta cheese. This goal was accomplished in Mykonos when she had some feta on her salad.

The last port of call was Katakolon, where we visited Olympia and were able to see the original Olympic stadium and walk where Olympic athletes had performed.  We saw the spot where the torch gets lit for all Olympic games. We also visited a farm where there were several crops, primarily olives of many varieties.  We had a typical Greek dinner, after which I was conversing with the captain of our ship and his wife, who happened to be sitting across the table from me, when I heard the strains of a Cretan song that promised the dances I had hoped to see from the moment I arrived in Greece. Sure enough, several of the waiters and waitresses began an authentic Greek dance.  Soon they summoned some of the guests to join them and, before long, there was a line of dancers snaking its way around the room.  Now that I’d finally seen an Anthony Quinn/Zorba the Greek-type dance, my Greek Isles experience was complete and I was ready to leave this beautiful place.

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My mother always made a big deal about spring cleaning, even though the house was always kept neat and clean, thanks to my sister and me.  Every Saturday, the two of us cleaned the house — she’d clean the downstairs and back porch; my job was the upstairs and front porch.  And it had to be thorough — no dustmop or wet mop on the floors — we had to dust the wood floors on our hands and knees, and we also cleaned the linoleum floors on our knees with a bucket, rag, scrubbing brush, and Fels Naptha soap. I was the only kid at school who had what was called ”housemaid’s knees.” Truly, they would become swollen. Eventually, my mother bought rubber mats to put under our knees.

But back to spring cleaning. The mattresses were taken off the beds, taken outside and beat to get rid of the dust (and mites, I’m sure, but we weren’t aware of them). Then we would clean the coil springs on the beds with a cloth. These procedures changed when we got an Electrolux vacuum cleaner. Those were the days when some door-to-door salesmen were welcomed into our homes – the Fuller Brush, Electrolux, and Encyclopedia Britannica salesmen, for example. When he was a teen, my husband bought a set of encyclopedias from a door-to-door salesman, getting one volume at a time, paying a dime a week. Our neighbor bought one of those new-fangled Electrolux vacuum cleaners and after she showed my parents all the marvelous things it could do, they purchased one. With its extendable hose, we could use our new Electrolux to vacuum the mattresses and springs. Obviously, these were the days before the springs were enclosed.

The carpets were cleaned with some mixture of soapy water with vinegar, I think. If they weren’t considered dirty enough to require this method, the smaller ones were taken outside, hung, and beaten. The wood floors around the edge of the carpets and the wooden furniture were cleaned with soap and water and given a coat of wax, using paste wax or Simonize (which every household had in the garage to use on the car to keep its finish looking like new). Then came the hard part: buffing the wood until it shined. Sidebar: Our living room carpet had fringe around the edges, which created a challenge when using an upright vacuum cleaner, because the fringe would get caught in its roller. When this happened, the machine would be turned off so that the fringe could be carefully untangled from the roller. I seem to remember some bald spots in the fringe because of these instances. After the carpet was vacuumed, it was my responsibility to straighten the fringe, a job that was given to me when I was a toddler. I loved that I was helping to clean the house. Little did I know!

But I digress – back to spring cleaning. Dresser scarves were laundered, starched, and ironed. Lace curtains were laundered and then put onto a curtain stretcher, which was a wooden frame with tiny nails with the points sticking up, placed close together all around the edge of the frame. The frame could be adjusted to fit various sizes of curtains. The edges of the curtains were meticulously stuck onto the tiny nails, and painstakingly removed from the nails after the curtains were dry.

We went through closets and removed clothes that no longer fit (why this was a part of spring cleaning baffles me). My sister’s clothes were handed down to me, which is why my clothes were never the latest fashion. My outgrown clothes were given to charity or to my young friend, who still reminds me how much she loved the pink organdy dress with ribbon trim that my mother had made for me, which she inherited.

Spring cleaning was considered “women’s work,” at least in our household, where my father was the only male among three females. However, there was one job reserved for my father: window washing. I don’t mean that he washed all the windows by himself. What I mean is that he was in charge of the job and did the majority of the work. The downstairs windows were easy enough to clean, inside and out. The way we’d help was that Daddy would be outside the window and one of us would be inside, washing together, so that no spot was missed. The upstairs windows were the challenge. I remember seeing my father sitting on the windowsill with his feet dangling inside and his upper body outside, making it possible for him to reach places he couldn’t get to otherwise. Now this was a job I eagerly asked to do. I would have loved to sit on the windowsill, half in and half out, but my parents, who obviously knew me better than I knew myself, turned down my request. When I try to recreate the scene in my mind, I still  think I would have done a good job, although I can’t figure out how my dad reached every section of each upstairs window – but he did!

Things were removed from cupboards, which were cleaned and then the objects were put back. In going through the kitchen cupboards, Mother would have us deep clean the pots and pans. This was another job that I couldn’t understand. Why not just clean them thoroughly each time they were used? I can visualize my mother scorching a pan and scrubbing it a bit and then telling herself, “That’s good enough for now; we’ll take care of it when we do our spring cleaning.” One year I was given the muffin tin to clean. It was in terrible condition, with caked-on grime. There was no way I was going to spend my time on this distasteful project. I surreptitiously discarded the muffin tin. Then I took part of my meager allowance and bought a new one, which I sneaked back into the cupboard. Since this was a baking item that was seldom used, I never knew when my mother discovered the substitution. I wonder whether she was grateful for the new muffin tin or upset with me for throwing away a “perfectly good pan that just needed some elbow grease.”

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Sourdough starter ingredients:

• 2 cups warm water or milk
• 2 cups unsifted flour
• 2 ½ teaspoons yeast

Combine ingredients and place in large glass or crock with a lid and allow to sit in warm, draft-free location for 4 to 7 days.

Sourdough biscuits Ingredients:

• ½ cup sourdough starter
• 1 cup milk
• 2 ½ cups unsifted flour
• 1 Tablespoon sugar
• ¾ teaspoon salt
• 1 teaspoon baking powder
• ½ teaspoon baking soda
• Approximately ¼ cup butter, melted

Mix the starter, milk, and one cup of the flour in a large bowl (the night before if biscuits are for breakfast; if for dinner, in the morning). Cover bowl and keep at room temperature to rise.

Turn this very soft dough out onto 1 cup flour on a board. Combine sugar, salt, baking powder, and baking soda with remaining ½ cup flour and sift over top. With your hands, mix dry ingredients into soft dough, kneading lightly to get correct consistency. Dough will be soft. Kneading too much will result in tough biscuits. Roll out to ½ inch thickness. Cut out biscuits with a cutter or glass (old sourdoughs just pinched hunks off). Dip each into butter. Place biscuits together (actually, squeeze them together) in a 9-inch square pan and set in a warm place to let rise for about ½ hour. Bake at 375º for about 30-35 minutes. Makes about 14 biscuits (2 ½ inch).

Since you borrowed from the sourdough starter, it’s now necessary to replenish. To the sourdough starter that is left, add:

• 2 cups unsifted flour
• 2 cups warm water (90º)
• 1 teaspoon sugar

Mix well in large glass or pottery bowl. Mixture may be slightly lumpy. Let stand in warm place 24 hours or until bubbly or sour. The sourdough starter is now ready to use again or store in refrigerator.  Do not store in tightly closed container, or it may burst. When the starter hasn’t been used for a while, a liquor will form on top. Just stir it into the sourdough starter. (The Hoochinoo Native Americans liked to drink this liquor; hence, the name “hooch.”)

A sourdough Biscuit Tradition

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Evan and Ted hadn’t seen each other since Ted had moved to Utah, so their reunion was warm and loving. After we all visited, Ted and his wife Doddie invited us to spend the night. The big life-changing event happened the next morning – Doddie served us sourdough pancakes. These were new to us, the only sourdough we were familiar with being sourdough bread. Doddie was happy to answer our many questions about sourdough, adding that the sourdough starter she had was purported to have been passed down from the original old-time Alaskan “Sourdoughs” from the late 19th century. Doddie gave us some of her starter, and explained how to replenish it every time we would use any.

Even though our introduction to sourdough was pancakes, our preference has always been biscuits, which have become an essential in every family breakfast. When we spent time at our Lake Havasu vacation home, we would all gather around the table in the evening for a rousing session of the card game “Estimation,” sometimes known as “Oh, Hell,” a game in which seven cards are dealt to each player, then six, etc., with each player estimating how many tricks he or she will take. In the middle of the game, Michelle would excuse herself, stating that she needed to begin the process for making sourdough biscuits for the next morning’s breakfast. As Michelle began the process, invariably someone would ask how many batches she was making. When she responded that she was doubling the recipe, all hell would break loose, eliciting jeers and “Are you kidding? Make a triple recipe,” or eventually, “You know you have to make a fourple batch.” I never understood why this conversation always had to take place. Michelle should have just made a quadruple recipe to begin with. If the card players are distracted and fail to prevent Michelle from making just a double batch, oh boy, at breakfast the next morning, instead of being grateful to Michelle for delivering this delicious treat, these vultures would chastise her for not realizing that there are growing boys for goodness sake and you know we’re all hungry at breakfast and you know we’re gonna want leftovers and when will you learn that you always need to make a fourple batch? I use Michelle’s name, although in early years this was my job and sometimes Jeannette would make the biscuits, but it was usually Michelle. So we’d have a breakfast of sourdough biscuits with sausage gravy and eggs. Sometimes, if Evan had gone fishing at dawn, we’d have fresh bass, as well.

Our sourdough starter has been passed down from generation to generation. Michelle and Jeannette still make sourdough biscuits regularly. Jeannette and her husband traditionally get together for a Palm Sunday brunch at Kolin’s brother’s home An essential part of this brunch is always a huge batch of Jeannette’s sourdough biscuits. My grandson Jacob, a really creative chef, in addition to biscuits and pancakes, has made sourdough bread and English muffins.

Back in the 1800’s, sourdough starter was an essential ingredient in every prospector’s pack. A book we bought, Sourdough Jack’s Cookery, which contains recipes and stories, tells about a prospector who had lost his mule in a snowslide. When he saw that his sourdough starter had spilled, he painfully climbed down the hill and scraped the starter off his dead mule’s nose into an empty tobacco tin.

Sourdough starter is a leavening agent. A second leavener is needed. The prospectors usually used baking soda. Baking powder was sometimes used, but the sourdoughs, being virile men, wanted no part of that because baking powder was said to be like saltpeter, causing a loss of libido. In Sourdough Jack’s book, a journalist who claimed to have been present at the time during the last big gold stampede in Alaska, told about approximately a hundred prospectors who were camping along the river, when Maud, a woman whose charms were for sale anywhere a mining camp sprung up, pitched her tent downstream. Unfortunately, Maud got no business because the prospectors had spent all their money on tools and equipment and mined no gold, so they decided to leave. As the boats shoved off, Maud waved her hand and said, “Good-bye, you bakin’ powder eatin’ sons of bitches.” This is but one of many sourdough stories, and I’m sure there are many more about our family that I can’t remember at this time.

Who would have thought 61 years ago that a simple gift would create so many wonderful memories?

CLICK FOR SOURDOUGH BISCUIT RECIPE

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They picked me up at 8:00 a.m. on Friday, April 29, 2016. Jeannette gets horribly carsick, so she has two options: (1) She can drive, in which case she doesn’t get sick, or (2) she can take massive doses of Dramamine and be too drowsy to fully appreciate the trip. So she did all the driving to Sally’s house.

When we entered St. George, the first order of business was to go to Culver’s, where we had dinner and frozen custard. Jeannette has a slim build, so it’s shocking to see the amount of frozen custard this girl can consume.

Then we went to Sally’s, where we were warmly greeted by her and her daughter, Brenda. After we explained why Jeannette needed to be the driver on our excursion, Sally reluctantly agreed to navigate while Jeannette did the driving.

I just happened to bring my folder of stories I’ve written for my Writers’ Group, so I regaled everyone there with a few stories. In true showbiz tradition, I left them wanting more, quitting after reading three or four stories. No amount of cajoling could entice me to reopen the folder – we were finished for the night. Maybe tomorrow.

Sally served us a lovely breakfast, café style, where each person ordered what he or she wanted. Then we headed for the CRV – which means “Crossover Recreational Vehicle” – a term I’d never heard before. This CRV would be our quarters for much longer than we planned.

We drove through Zion – gorgeous and breathtaking – but we didn’t stop, Bryce being our destination. We planned to make Inspiration Point our first stop. As our vehicle was climbing higher and higher, snow began falling. Everything was beautiful and serene, until Sally suddenly said “We need to turn around. We obviously missed the turn-off for Inspiration Point.” We turned the vehicle around and drove, as the snow continued. We stopped at a look-out where we viewed Swamp Canyon and saw some mini-snowmen perched on the rail, that someone had left behind for us to enjoy.

We finally came to Inspiration Point. I don’t know if that’s a strong enough word for this massive, colorful, naturally-created architectural phenomenon, with its hoodoos, which is the name for the towers, spires, and statue-like figures rising up from the basin. I just stood in wonder, marveling at this site that brought tears not only to my eyes, but also the eyes of my big, strong son-in-law. Not wanting to miss a thing, Jeannette and Kolin ventured higher on foot, while I retreated to the CRV, where Sally was waiting. During this trip she rarely got out of the vehicle, enjoying the sights vicariously, as she had been on this tour many times before. The next stop was Sunset Point, where we viewed Bryce Canyon from a different angle.

As we drove on, the snow increased in intensity. I should mention here that we had a route all planned, which involved driving in one large circle, so that when we left Bryce, we wouldn’t be terribly far from home. As we turned to go toward Cedar City, the cleared road came to an abrupt stop, ending in a snow bank. Jeannette turned the vehicle around and took the other road to get down the mountain. We were at 10,420 feet when the cleared road started getting more and more narrow, with the snow encroaching, but on we went – that is, until the narrowing snow banks blocked the road entirely. So daughter Jeannette temporarily relinquished the driver’s seat to her husband so that he could turn the vehicle around. Now there was nothing we could do except back-track and return home the way we had come – which would mean about 50-70 more miles than we’d intended, but we had no other option. As we reversed our original route down the mountain, it started to hail and then snow very hard. It was a complete white-out with the snow covering the tracks of the vehicles that had traversed this road before us. The entire situation was a bit disconcerting to all of us out-of-towners, which worsened when Sally started saying over and over “Oh, my goodness!” as she watched the snow and hail blanket the asphalt.

At this point, nature was calling and I needed a restroom immediately. We stopped at a general store. Getting to it involved walking up a slight grade that was covered with icy snow. I decided that I could make it that far but no farther. When we went in and asked about restrooms we were told, “Oh, they’re in the building out back.” So, like it or not, more walking was required. Fortunately, the building had regular toilets and was not the out- house we fearfully anticipated. Thank goodness, we all made it there in time.

We got back on the road and after we’d driven approximately two miles, the heavy snow lightened up, turning to rain, and the fear of being stuck at the top of the mountain in a snow storm was lifted. At one point, we had actually been concerned about becoming stranded, to the extent that we took inventory of our food and water.

Because of the extra distance we traveled, we had a very late dinner at Sally’s favorite restaurant, the Black Bear Diner. The next morning we all trekked back there for breakfast and were joined by Sally’s daughter, Lorena.

Before we departed, Sally’s daughter Brenda, knowing my love of the color pink, presented me with a pink basket, holding a small cactus plant surrounded by pink lacy fabric and quartz rocks. As we said good-bye, we were amazed at how much we had squeezed into this three-day weekend, when we actually witnessed one of the Wonders of the World. We drove off, heading for home, but one more stop awaited us: at Culvers. Jeannette has a routine she follows. She came armed with a large ice chest and purchased dry ice so that she could take home many containers of this magnificent elixir known as frozen custard, but first, of course, we all had one for the road.

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Grandma Lois has been writing short stories for as long as she can remember.  She also wrote a children’s book, Tom the Mouse, a story that has been passed on through the generations of her family.  She is grandmother to six grandchildren and ten great grandchildren. She loves traveling with all of them.

Let’s talk about the word “like.”  I’m sure you’ve like noticed the number of times a young person like uses the word as a verbal placeholder, often like several times in one sentence.  It’s annoying, but we’ve come to accept it. We old folks even find ourselves doing it.  Regarding legitimate uses of the word “like,” because I’m old school, I use “like” to compare things, but not to give examples. “A cucumber is like a zucchini in shape” shows comparison. When giving examples, some people would say “She grew several vegetables, like cucumbers.” I would say “She grew several vegetables, such as cucumbers.” To me, using “like” in this case suggests that the vegetables she grew are similar to cucumbers, when the person actually means that cucumbers are among the vegetables she grew.  Because of current usage, I’ve come to accept using “like” in this case, but I still believe “such as” is more accurate.

People may be proud of themselves when they use the word “whom” instead of “who.”  Many believe that if it comes in the middle of a sentence, it will be “whom.”  This isn’t always the case.  If the word is a subject instead of an object, no matter the location in the sentence, “who” is used.  An example is: “She is the one who carries the flag.” In this case, “who” is the subject. “Whom” is the object when saying “The person whom I met carries the flag.”

Recently, I’ve noticed that television actors will begin a sentence with “yeah, no,” which makes no sense. When I first mentioned this to my daughter Michelle, she wasn’t aware of the trend, but after I told her about it, she began to notice. Now, while watching television, Michelle and I have fun counting the number of times people begin sentences with “yeah, no,” and the count is really up there. You may not remember hearing this expression, but now that I’ve told you, be ready for it and you’ll be surprised how often it’s used. Another sentence starter is “I mean,” which should indicate that an explanation of what you just said is forthcoming.  If you haven’t yet said anything, what are you clarifying?  When I watch America’s Got Talent, I’m always surprised when Heidi Klum doesn’t begin a sentence with “I mean.”

For some reason that I can’t understand, the word “good” has become verboten.  Instead, people substitute the word “well.”  When asked “How are you,” the response will probably be “I’m well, thank you,” which is a fine answer if the person is inquiring about your health. However, if the person is asking about your general well-being, the answer should be “I’m good, thank you,” which for generations was the response given.  I have no idea why the word “good” grew out of favor.  Some people have really gone overboard using “well” instead of “good.”  Following are examples of instances when “well” was used erroneously when the word should have been “good.” During the CBS show Sunday Moring, an interviewer asked “So it’s very well to say . . .” In a scene from a period movie, while looking at a pair of shoes in a shop window, Maggie Smith said to a young lady, “I think those blue shoes would look very well on you.” Later, in speaking about a young man, she said, “He is very well to look at – very well indeed.” You’d think that the writer was forbidden to use the word “good.”

I believe it’s time to invent a new word for grown offspring.  I think “children” should refer only to individuals under 18 years old.  When I fill out forms in the doctor’s office, in the section about emergency contact, where it says “Relationship to patient,” one option is “child.” I always say to myself “Wait a minute – Michelle’s not a child.”

I’d like to talk about redundancy – using two words that mean the same. Some examples are “tiny little candle,” “final conclusion,” and “merge together.”  “Tiny” and “little” mean the same, as is the case with “final” and “conclusion” and “merge” and “together.” Then there are times when an unnecessary word is added. One that really bothers me, which we see everywhere, is “for free.”  Why not just “free”? “Buy two mustache combs and get a nose-hair trimmer for free.” I believe you get the nose-hair trimmer free. When I researched this, I found “for free” to be slang, but, of course, acceptable. 

Sometimes, rather than sound highfalutin, I’ll deliberately use poor grammar. Linking verbs – is, was – are followed by nominative rather than objective nouns.  Therefore, it’s correct. to say “It is I,” but I just may decide to be a maverick and say “It’s me.” There are other times when I deliberately break the rules.  For example, I often use the word “ain’t,” knowing full well that it’s wrong, but deciding it fits the mood.

One of the most widely made grammatical errors is the incorrect usage of the word “lay” when what is meant is “lie.”  You can lay something down, but you yourself lie down. After much cajoling from me, my family members have adopted the habit of using “lie” when appropriate, and they and I are definitely in the minority when we tell our dog to “lie down.” I’m on a quest to get people, medical personnel particularly, to learn to say “lie” instead of lay.  The reason for the emphasis on the medical profession is that one thing they say often to patients is “lay down.”  It should be “lie down.” I’m always so pleased when a nurse tells me to lie down that I feel like applauding. In a medical show I was watching, a doctor asked a patient to lay down. Not surprising.  Later, this same doctor asked the same patient to lie down.  One out of two – pretty good.  Later she said to the patient “I’m going to lie you down.” (Head slap). Oh well, can’t win them all. The doctor was “placing” (“laying”) the patient down. I’ll admit that grammar can be tricky — the fact that the past tense of “lie” is “lay” doesn’t help matters.  When people finally learn to say lie,” invariably, they’ll think that the past tense is “lied.”  Just remember: today I lie down – yesterday I lay down; today I lay something down – yesterday I laid something down. If a poll were taken, I think it would be found that most people use “lay” incorrectly when they should say “lie.” I’m optimistic enough to believe that references will not call the former “acceptable.”  

I always believed, and still do, that “between” is used when talking about two things and “among” is used for more. “Choose between apples and oranges,” and “Choose among apples, oranges, and pears.”  If you Google it, though, you’ll be told that “between” can be used when discussing more than two items.  The example given was “This is between you, me, and the bedpost,” a colloquialism, for heaven’s sake! The same holds true for “better” and “best.” When I went to school, “better” was used for two and “best” for three or more.  When I Googled it, I found “using ‘best’ for two is common and understood.”  So that’s the criteria now. We are living in an era of what I call “lax language,” which I attribute to laziness – as long as it’s understood, the hell with rules of grammar. Nevertheless, I’m adamant about some rules that I believe shouldn’t be bent.  I was reading that double negatives are now acceptable because of the Rolling Stones song, I Can’t Get No Satisfaction. Really? We’re going to base our grammatical rules on a bunch of aging rock musicians?

I found a hopeful sign in all this prevalent bad grammar. Usually when a misuse is labeled “acceptable,” there’s the caveat that it doesn’t hold true for formal writing. It’s good to know that we purists can still find reading materials that are grammatically correct. 

Obviously, I’m frustrated by the lax language prevalent today with obvious incorrect grammar being “acceptable,” but I won’t shed no tears.  No, I’ll just go lay down.

THE END

If you missed Part 1, CLICK HERE.

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Grandma Lois has been writing short stories for as long as she can remember.  She also wrote a children’s book, Tom the Mouse, a story that has been passed on through the generations of her family.  She is grandmother to six grandchildren and ten great grandchildren. She loves traveling with all of them.

I am pretty good at editing, one of the few things I think I do well.  I believe it’s a gift, but it can also be a curse. When I read a book, like it or not, I read it with an editorial eye, picking out every grammatical or punctuation error or poorly worded sentence.  I sometimes even mark up the book with my corrections.

I get perturbed when I see poor English usage in books, magazines,  newspapers, and television news programs because these writers are supposed to be experts.  I’m also pleasantly surprised when they get it right – especially when it’s an inaccuracy that has gained traction. An example is the tendency for most people to use “I” as an object instead of “me.” When a newscaster says, for example, “Please join Pam and I tomorrow,” I’m disappointed but not surprised; however, when he says the correct “Please join Pam and me tomorrow,” I’m surprised and delighted. If people would just say the sentence to themselves without the other person’s name, they’d realize that they need to say “me” instead of “I.”

When I’m asked “Can I help you,” I feel like answering, “I don’t know; are you physically capable of helping me?” I should be asked instead “May I help you?” meaning “Do I have your permission to help you?”  Then the salesperson might say “If you need me, I’ll be right over there.”  Again, my smart aleck mind wants to say, “And if I don’t need you, where will you be?” I admit that these thoughts go a bit overboard, but I tell you to show how my obsessive editorializing mind works.

A thing can’t be “very unique” because “unique” means “one of a kind.”  I also question “very excellent.”

I really believe that people are trying to sound scholarly when they say they are “feeling badly” rather than the correct “feeling bad.”  The only way you can feel badly is if you’re feeling an object and your fingers aren’t working properly.

I don’t know whether I’m offended or just feel sorry for people who mispronounce words.  First, I’m reminded of a friend who recently was telling me that she felt the same, stating that she becomes annoyed over the “mispronounciation” of words, not realizing that she herself was guilty of mispronouncing the word “mispronunciation.”  One of the most common mispronounced words is “nuclear.” Another is “pundit,” with people saying “pundunt.” Although a man may be prostrate when he has an examination, it’s not his prostrate that’s checked, it’s his prostate. A point that is not relevant is a moot point – not a mute point, which I guess would be a quiet point. The word “zoology” is pronounced “zo-ology”; in order to be “zoo-ology,” there would need to be four “o’s.” Speaking of “o’s,” although it’s incorrect to use the letter “o” for the number “zero,” I think people can be forgiven for making the substitution in the interest of brevity.

The tendency these days seems to be that the phrase “you’re welcome” is non-existent.  When you thank someone, the response will usually be “no problem.” When I thanked my great granddaughter the other day, she replied, “Of course.” Instead of being annoyed that she hadn’t used the obligatory “you’re welcome,” I thought it was kind of sweet – I don’t know whether it was because it really was sweet or because my great granddaughter is sweet.

Have you ever heard someone say that he or she is anxious to do something pleasant, e.g., “I’m anxious to go to Disneyland”?  Because “anxious” means “fearfully awaiting,” that would suggest that the person is expressing fear at the Disneyland prospect, which probably isn’t so – unless perhaps scary roller coasters are involved. Actually, the person is eager: ”I’m anxious about the upcoming weather because I’m eager to go to Disneyland.”

I’d like to discuss placement of the word “only.”  Many tend to put the word in the wrong place. An example would be “I only have one dollar,” which would suggest that the only possession I have is a dollar.  If I’m talking about the amount of money I have, what should have been said is “I have only one dollar.” Another example would be “I only delivered three packages.” That suggests that delivering three packages is the only thing I did. “I delivered only three packages” conveys the intended meaning.

When being trained, it seems that the number one rule taught to medical receptionists, salespeople, and wait staffs is to be sure to use the word “perfect” as many times as they can. “What is your zip code?” “97495.” “Perfect.” “Does your phone number end in 3977?” “Yes.” “Perfect.” “Did you get everything you needed today?” “Yes.” “Perfect.” “Would you like fries with that?” “No, thank you,” “Perfect.” Instead of being annoyed, I guess I should be thrilled to be so perfect. Oh, I forgot to mention, the pronunciation is usually “PURRR-fect.”

Speaking about wait staffs, some people get extremely irritated to be considered guys – “What can I get you guys?” I don’t mind it too much, probably because at my age it’s nice to be given a name usually reserved for young people.

My husband officiated basketball games. I recall that he would call flagrant fouls, meaning fouls that needn’t have been committed.  That’s the way I feel about the use of the words “they/them,” and “him/her.” Grammar aside, in my opinion, some of the errors made are mathematically incorrect.  I read in an advice column “Discuss this with an attorney and enlist their help.” I think that “their” shouldn’t refer to one attorney.  If the advice had said “Discuss this with attorneys and enlist their help,” that would have been mathematically correct, in my opinion. When I was in school, the proper format would be “Discuss this with an attorney and enlist his or her help.” In today’s climate, “his or her” can’t be used because it doesn’t include the people who claim to be neither. “They” has a completely different meaning, with sometimes being the preferred pronoun. There are so many pronouns floating around today that I guess writers solve the problem by using only they/their. I have even seen examples so flagrant that people use “their” when they know whether it refers to a male or female.  I read “My son’s backpack was left in their locker.” You know your son is a boy, so why not say “ . . . left it in his locker”?  Here’s another flagrant example. A woman wrote to an advice column that her husband was dragging his feet regarding legal matters.  The response read “If your spouse refuses to make arrangements for their possessions and directives concerning their health and demise, you may not be able to change their minds.” So, in addition to using “their” instead of “his” when talking about a husband, the columnist got so carried away with all of the “theirs” that she forgot she was dealing with one husband and made “minds” plural. I realize that the time has come when I need to accept wrong pronoun usages, but I reserve the right to grit my teeth while doing it.

It bothers me when I read about 2,000 troops being sent to a city, not only because it’s stupid to send soldiers or National Guard personnel to cities where they’re not wanted or needed, but because I don’t like using the word “troop” to mean one person.  My son belonged to a Boy Scout troop and my daughters belonged to Girl Scout troops. Each of them wasn’t a troop. I looked up the word and the definition was “A group of soldiers.”

When I don’t feel well, I may take my temperature by using a thermometer.  Invariably, someone will ask “Do you have a temperature?” Of course I have a temperature. I always do. What you mean to ask is whether I have a fever. Everyone always has a temperature – well, maybe dead people don’t, but come to think of it, I guess even they do.

END OF PART 1

Coming up: Part 2 will discuss the words like, good, whom, lay, and others, and how they are used incorrectly.

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