The Curmudgeonly Grammarian

It is a curse to be so attuned to how others speak and write, and to care about it.

After all, who really should give a hoot? The purpose of language is to communicate and if the message is communicated, no matter how mangled, hasn’t that end been reached?

Yes, but…

It tugs at a grammarian’s heart, who wants nothing but to be helpful. And the curmudgeon part (which is only a kind way of saying super-grumpy), simply transforms this into a rather grouchy urge to assist. But is this truly helpful? In fact, family and friends and colleagues of the curmudgeonly grammarian have often been overheard planning a lynching.

In spite of this danger, let’s explore a few examples of common word or phrase choices which may not be, harrumph, optimum.  Several of these are cherry picked from other publications, or from the web, but some are from these very pages. (To my blog readers – this refers to the Attleboro Sun Chronicle which runs my column every other Thursday).

First let us recognize that language changes, constantly evolving. New words and phrases join the vocabulary regularly, such as “card reader,” acknowledged by the Oxford English Dictionary in 2016 as “an electronic sensor that reads a magnetic strip or bar code on a credit card, membership card, etc.” (This does not apparently recognize that the phrase pre-existed; card readers were actual machines in the mid-twentieth century used to read and process punched paper cards. Your curmudgeonly grammarian operated an IBM 2540RP card reader in the 1970s with little lasting damage).

Other words are used with meaning that has changed over time. In the good old days, we said “fewer” when the object was countable, and “less” when it was not. Fewer people, less water. Fewer logs, less lumber. But today everything is “less.” While generally understandable, this new usage loses some information. Less people, less water. Which is countable, which is not?

Here is a good one, an example of misremembering a word. In a letter to the editor in the Providence Journal, a gentleman self-identified as a “retired educator and former executive director of the RI Association of School Principals” wrote a plaint that concluded with the phrase “exasperate the problem.”  A quick Google search finds 77,000 hits on the same phrase, so he was far from alone. But it is a meaningless statement. To exasperate means to irritate or infuriate. How can a problem be irritated? He meant to say exacerbate, which means to worsen. A problem can be made worse, but it cannot feel the emotion of exasperation. (You were warned at the outset… this is grumpy).

Here are a few more – most taken from these very pages.

“Low and behold…” – no, loe and behold.

“We got passed this fairly quickly...” – try past instead of passed.

“Establish report with him…” – hmmm, rapport?

“Waive a red flag…” – wave, wave!

“The DNC didn’t fair much better...” – ummm, perhaps they meant fare?

There are many more. Brake/break, affect/effect, lose/loose, to/too/two, there/their. This is why English is such a bear of a language to learn for non-native speakers.

Let’s close with an example of  a common phrase which is illogical.

In a recent headline, we were told that “Flynn Resigning Begs the Question of Trump's Involvement.” The editor meant to say that Flynn’s resignation raises the question of Trump’s involvement. But that’s not what “beg the question” means.

To beg the question is a technical term of logic. It means that an argued conclusion is not supported by its premises. For instance, if we posit that “thoughts are not part of the physical world, since thoughts are in their nature non-physical,” the conclusion is simply a restatement of the premise. It doesn’t prove anything, hence is fallacious and begs the question.

The headline writer would have been better off simply stating that “Flynn’s Resignation Raises the Question of Trump Involvement.” Sometimes the simpler the words, the clearer the meaning.

Time for this curmudgeonly grammarian to sign off, while friends and family and colleagues are still on speaking terms.

After all, as long as we understand each other, that’s all that matters. Right?

Energy has no easy button

We humans are an odd bunch. Ever since we learned to master fire, that magical happening which allowed us to migrate and survive colder climes, we have always wanted an easy button.

When dark, we want to simply flip a switch and make it light. When cold, or hot, we want to speak to our smart thermostat and order the temperature adjusted (yes, such technology exists).

Easy, nothing to it.

But energy production and management have never been easy. It has never been riskless.

Even in those early days, it required an enormous amount of human effort to cut and gather wood, store it properly, burn it in stone fireplaces and later metal stoves. History is replete with “great fires” which ravaged London, Rome, New York, Chicago, San Francisco and many lesser cities.

Thousands of fires over the ages, many thousands killed, enormous property damage. Yet we kept building fires, because the benefits far outweighed the risks.

As the great forests disappeared, we took to the earth, disgorging mountains of coal to heat our cities and power our factories. Black, sooty skies and great mine disasters were a terrible price to pay. But pay it we did, for the alternative was cold and dark and dank.

Fleets of wooden ships sailed from our harbors on long voyages to hunt whales. The whale fat thus harvested was used to produce light, burning in lamps. The odor of burning whale oil was disagreeable, and was particularly hard on the whales, but we persisted. Because, otherwise, only the dark.

We then discovered petroleum fuels, to the great relief of the whales, creating kerosene lanterns. (One of which, as the story goes, was kicked over by Katy O’Leary’s cow resulting in the Great Chicago Fire of 1871).

And we learned. Driven by technology improvements, the advent of fire insurance (Ben Franklin had a lot to do with this), and brave men and women firefighters, we greatly improved safety and managed the risk of fire.

Then we moved into the electrical era, allowing us to light the planet so that cities appear as strings of pearls from outer space. We turned night into day, cold into warm, and hot into cool.

But even this was not with controversy.

The “War of the Currents” raged in the late nineteenth century, as Thomas Edison and Nikola Tesla battled over the best way to distribute electrical power, as alternating (AC) or direct (DC) current. As fortunes were riding on the outcome, all manner of publicity stunts were used to sway the public.

In one shocking episode, Topsy the elephant was put to death by electrocution, and this was reportedly used to demonstrate the danger of alternating current.

We must not forget that electricity has to be generated before it can be used, and like all manner of energy manipulation, that is not without risk.

Hydro power is considered clean and safe, but ecosystems are disrupted and dams can break. Nuclear is silent, but reactors have melted down. Coal generation creates atmospheric gasses, not to speak of many mining disasters. Wind and solar are more benign, but are less reliable and cost us some number of birds. Petro power, electricity generated from natural gas or oil, also releases gasses on combustion and numerous high profile transportation events (train and pipeline accidents) have occurred.

As should be clear by now, there is no easy button.

Much as we would like simple choices, we are presented with a complicated menu of risks, benefits, costs and uncertain outcomes.

What is a responsible citizen and energy consumer to do?

Here are a few things to consider.

1. Spend your energy dollars wisely but in accordance with your conscience. If you are a vocal solar supporter, install some panels on your roof. Before purchasing an electric automobile, consider how the electricity to recharge it is generated. If nuclear, wind or solar are in the mix, you may actually be doing the atmosphere some good. Otherwise, not so much.
2. Vote to influence public energy policy at the local, state, and national level. Some energy choices on a macro scale are formed by consumer choice, that is, by producers chasing your dollars. But other change can only be achieved by regulation. This is due to hidden or diffuse costs not being accounted for. Responsible regulation is not evil.
3. Keep yourself informed and think clearly. Human beings are notoriously poor at processing odds. We overestimate the likelihood of low probability, high impact events. We must be aware of this tendency and avoid it.

Energy is a wonderful thing. It always has its risks, but offers enormous benefits. Try to keep in mind, the next time you flip a switch, all that lies behind that sudden burst of light.

An Alpine Adventure

The Swiss Alps as seen from Austria.

It was a ski vacation to Austria, a bucket list trip, in the company of good, old friends. The skiing was nice. The cuisine was wonderful. The scenery, spectacular.

But I was taken by a cow barn.

The trip started from Boston’s General Edward Lawrence Logan International Airport. Icelandair flies a nicely renovated 757 from Logan to Reykjavik, where we made a frantic 20 minute connection to Munich. No panic was necessary as all the heavy ski baggage somehow miraculously made the next flight, as did we.

Munich is situated on a broad plain in northern Bavaria. As we rode south with limitless expanses and far horizons, we could only pray that there were actually mountains involved in this venture. Finally, after an hour, the terrain became hilly, rising, with pine covered mountains in the distance. Yes! We had not accidently gotten on the wrong bus.

For several hours more we continued south, into Austria, and up into the Alps. The mountains grew taller, steeper, and we negotiated multiple tunnels and high mountain passes. Finally, we entered a valley containing our destination, the village of Ischgl.

It was late in the day, so after checking into our attractive, warm, wood and stainless hotel, we wandered the streets a bit then returned for dinner, and retired, exhausted after a very long day of travel.

Next morning, after a bounteous breakfast buffet, we ventured out once again and paid more attention to our surroundings. Ischgl is nestled in a deep, narrow valley. There is a small river flowing through and a few hay meadows extending a couple of hundred feet up the slopes. Above that, it is too steep to harvest hay and the slopes ascend steeply into pine forests. The sun peeks into the deep valley, directly, for only a few hours each day. A tough environment in which to grow corn and potatoes and beans. And hay.

The valley floor is at 4,500 feet, with the slopes angling steeply up to over 7,500 feet. A ride up in a gondola is nearly a nosebleed experience. Arriving at the top, we are above the tree line, and see a plateau of brilliant white, as the snowfields are firmly established at this level. To the south, another mountain ridge rises to nearly 10,000 feet. Unlike the narrow confines of the valley, at this altitude we can see for miles, plateaus and peaks extending into the far distance. It is as if we have escaped into another world. We must wonder how the early human inhabitants of the deep mountain valleys reacted when first ascending the heights to see this panorama.

But we do know that they did so. In the summer, these snowfields are alpine meadows, lush with grasses and flowers, benefiting from full sun unlike the narrow valleys below. We must wonder how human settlers, 6,000 years ago, solved this puzzle.

They did so by migrating their livestock, cows, sheep, and pigs, from the deep valleys to the high plateaus every season. The herdsmen would live in stone huts and tend the animals, protecting them from predators with the help of stringy, tough dogs. At the end of the season, in the fall, the herds were brought back down to the village. These comings and goings were celebrated as festivals, with the cows gaily decorated and costumed.

And that’s where we were, now, in the deep valley, in the winter. Walking about the village, we smelled the unmistakable odor of cow. (Those of you who grew up in the country know that of which I speak).

And suddenly, we realized we were standing outside a dairy barn. A large, two story building nestled between the tourist hotels, on a street crowded with skiers on the way to après ski celebrations. We found a window and brushed a bit of dust aside. The view became clear, a row of dairy cows in their stanchions patiently awaiting the evening milking. It became clear that the ancient rhythms of husbandry continued in Ischgl in spite of the enormous growth of tourism.

This seasonal migration of livestock from the deep valleys to the high plateaus had been going on for over 6,000 years, driven by the simple fact of available sunshine. And it turns out that the name for the high mountain pastures are “alps.” And that the mountains in which this process occurs are called the Alps.

What a deeply meaningful bucket list trip. To ski in a fabulous locale, famous worldwide. But to discover common agrarian roots, to smell those wonderful cows, that was profoundly satisfying, It goes without saying… we’d do it again.