Showing posts with label Language. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Language. Show all posts

Friday, September 26, 2008

Bad Language

"Dumbo!"

"What did you just say?" I admire the creativity, but I'm purposely not smiling...
Gabey, however, is smiling, with a mischievous twinkle in his brown eye.

Dumbo has turned into a bad word at our house. Sweet little, floppy-eared Dumbo. Because we love little Dumbo, I was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt, the first time I heard Gabriel (4) call William (2) by the name. Surely, I thought, he's not using Dumbo's name as a slur! Dumbo is one of his favorite cartoons!

But then he did it again. And it was not in the tone of voice one uses to compliment. Then William picked it up, and before I knew it, it was the favored term of un-endearment around here.

Good grief! How is it that these sweet little boys can instinctively pick up a thing like this? Is it our fallen human nature? Is it a child's natural instinct for one-upsmanship? Do they think it's just fun to come up with creative insults? I don't know, but they all do it.

We went through a terrible "stupid" epidemic at our house when I was a kid, and my Mom and Dad brought out the whole arsenal of parenting weaponry to eradicate it. Soap to spanked butts. And it worked somewhat. We did stop saying it in front of them.
Mom and Dad also outlawed the phrases: "Shut up," "Sit on it," and "Oh, man" (That one just got under my Dad's skin...), and we were discouraged from saying "nerd" and the four letter word that means flatulation. But that's as bad as it got, really. It was the seventies, when the world still sheltered children somewhat. All of the families we knew made a point of it, anyway. We were only allowed to watch PBS, documentaries, and old movies on TV, and joined in the universal exclamation of horror when an eighth grader on our bus bragged that his mother let him watch All in the Family. That was racy back then; it was a scandal! We went to Catholic schools, where there were parent meetings about the appropriateness of taking the school children to go see Fantasia (Modesty issues, you know, and sorcery...). The worst word we ever heard uttered was "damn" ~ and we were horrified at that!
My parents never cursed, either, except perhaps the one mild four letter word that my Mom let slip every once in a blue moon that we didn't begrudge her. She'd usually earned the right to it, and the seven of us knew that, since we'd pushed her to it, we'd probably be the ones to answer to the Almighty for it. My Dad, on the other hand, used only creative phrases of exclamation like: "Oh, bat terds!" and "Horse hockey!" (We still giggle at these.)

But our bad words were not so much bad as just rude, I guess. Like "Dumbo." The only reason Gabe says it is to make his brother mad. Which, in a way, is worse than a curse word said out of habit, I guess. But, I'm glad that it's just a little word and one I can likely nip in the bud. I'm determined to teach him that it's an unkindness that spreads like a ripple on a pond. It spreads into other lives, like it did here, slipping into the vocabulary of his two-year-old brother, creating unhappiness.

And it digs deep down into our own characters. The habit of bad language grows and indicates a habit of unkindness and a lowness of mind. And it starts with little words like "Dumbo" and "stupid," and with unkind phrases like "shut up." All best nipped in the bud by Mom and Dad while they still have the power to create good habits of thought.

My oldest sons have an old friend who uses foul language, and they've told me that it pains them to have to avoid him because of it. It's so sad. But I'm proud of them that they understand that ripple effect and want to stay away from it. And it so pleases my parent's heart to see that one little thing we started teaching them when they were toddlers (I think the offending phrase for the big boys was "dumdum.") has come to roost in their hearts.

My boys. It almost makes me want to bite my tongue when I hear them calling each other things like "doofus" and "lunk head."
Parenting never really ends, does it?

Sunday, April 20, 2008

French

Today is the International Day of the French Speaking World.

No kidding.

I have to admit I used to have a problem with French. The language, I mean. Because I've always been a proud student of English, the very idea of those French language purists just made me mad. How dare they be so arrogant about their language? How dare they look down their noses at English ~ especially our dear, quirky American English. Fooey on them!
(Above: L'Academie francaise)

Let me be perfectly clear that it's not the French people I have a problem with. I daresay, most of them don't give a gros bizoux about the purity of their language. I once had the pleasure of working with a very classy Parisienne, Miss Marie (Maa-ldee' ~ roll that rrrr): "I loove Ameldicans. But zay are slobs." She was a hoot. But, very, very classy. Very old school. She dressed and wore make up every day like she was going to the Academy Awards ~ and this was to dust knick knacks in a card shop.

But, to get back to the point ~ It was not our language she had a problem with, just our raggedy jeans and t-shirts. Now, that's a French woman. If she ever had a reason to use words like hamburger and microchip, she'd just say hahmboorgair and mahcrocheep. No big deal. But, to L'Academie francaise in Paris or the Office de la langue francaise (aka: OLF ~ the Canadian branch of L'Academie francaise), this would be an unforgivable scourge on the purity of the language. Gack.

Even beautiful Ontario, one of our favorite neighbors, has been infected with this language purity virus. In February of this year, the OLF fined McKibbons Irish Pub $1500 for each and every English language advertising sign hanging on its wall. Puh ~lease! They have nothing better to do over there in Ontario?

Strange as it seems to us Americans, who practically throw a party for the new words Webster adds to the dictionary every year, none of this is anything new in the French speaking world. The idea of French language purity has been in existence since before Napolean, but the rapid influx of English into the French vocabulary, starting in the '60s and escalating in the early '90s , has kept both the French and Canadian offices of the Language Police in the news. If you're drawn to reading Language articles and blogs like I am, you couldn't avoid hearing about it.

French. The very thought of it made the hackles on the back of my neck stand up.

Until... A couple of years ago, we met a French speaking Belgian nun ~ Sr. Alice (A-leese') Marie. There could be no better diplomat for the French language. It took me a while to get used to her thick French accent, but once I did, I had to admit that her pronunciation did actually improve our language in a subtle (and therefore, obviously un-American) way. Facts are facts: there is something graceful and unconsciously sophisticated about French that English lacks. They speak Louis Vuitton; we speak Walmart knockoff.

But, hey now! I don't want you to think I don't just love Walmart knockoff! It's not our American heritage to care about grace or sophistication, dadblame it! We're proud of our rugged independence and lack of airs. We've always been more heroic than subtle ~ more Laurel and Hardy than Charles Boyer. We wouldn't want it any other way!

Right?


Right?

Well...

You want to know what I really think?

Actually...

If I could get my tongue around that language, I'd feel like I had a little red wine and croissant corner in my soul that no one expected. A little sophistication... A little mystery... A little je ne sais quoi...

None of which I possess naturally, I'm afraid. I'm about as mysterious as: "French toast: No sugar, side of ketchup, please." (Don't ask. It's a regional southern thing... Mysterious, maybe, but not cool-mysterious.)

Anyway ~ Here, for your consideration, is the entire French version of April Showers ~ this time with pictures (My two-year old can't get enough of this video!)... See what you think.






Doesn't it sound especially pretty in French?

I think we might concede to letting a little French slip into our language here in America, don't you? And we really don't mind if they borrow our technological vocabulary. We understand that they don't have any of their own, and we Americans are known for our generosity.

We won't even make them pay to use our words. Zay can have zem for free. Entièrement gratuit

We love zee French.

Gros bisous à eux,
Leeza



PS~ See this though! Turn about is fair play, eh?