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Oh, to Be Normal

A couple of weeks ago I was visiting the Maryhill Museum of Art—worth the drive for the Rodin collection alone—and learned that Sam Hill, railroad executive and founder of the museum, had a rather intense friendship with Queen Marie of Romania.

I’m sure the museum’s collection of the queen’s royal memorabilia (coronation gown, crown, jewelry, etc.) is fabulous; the problem is, all that went through my mind as I toured the exhibit was this little ditty by Dorothy Parker:

Oh, life is a glorious cycle of song,
A medley of extemporanea;
And love is a thing that can never go wrong,
And I am Marie of Roumania.

I proudly recited the poem to each of my kids. One responded by rolling her eyes, the other by heading for the nearest exit.

“Soylent Green Is People!”

I’ve always harbored suspicions that Oregonians were a bit, well…rigorous in their adherence to green orthodoxy. But I had no idea how rigorous:

This sign, located outside Manzanita, clearly shows just how far they’re willing to go.

Improving Our View

 

We’ve all seen electrical grid pylons along our highways, but how cool would it be if they actually became more interesting? The firm of Choi+Shine Architects provides an interesting solution. It’s always nice to see ordinary, everyday objects reinvented.

Beating a Dead Horse

As a followup to last week’s post about beginning sentences with “and,” let me just add one last point for the benefit of those who, for whatever reason, believe that their high school English teacher is right and everyone else is wrong.

From The Chicago Manual of Style, 15th edition (2003):

There is a widespread belief—one with no historical or grammatical foundation—that it is an error to begin a sentence with a conjunction such as and, but, or so. In fact, a substantial percentage (often as many as 10 percent) of the sentences in first-rate writing begin with conjunctions. It has been so for centuries, and even the most conservative grammarians have followed this practice.

Had enough yet? No? Then let’s hear from Charles Allen Lloyd, from his 1938 book We Who Speak English: And Our Ignorance of Our Mother Tongue:

Next to the groundless notion that it is incorrect to end an English sentence with a preposition, perhaps the most wide-spread of the many false beliefs about the use of our language is the equally groundless notion that it is incorrect to begin one with “but” or “and.” As in the case of the superstition about the prepositional ending, no textbook supports it, but apparently about half of our teachers of English go out of their way to handicap their pupils by inculcating it. One cannot help wondering whether those who teach such a monstrous doctrine ever read any English themselves.

Now, this wouldn’t be such a big deal if so many people weren’t absolutely convinced of the veracity of the no-conjunctions-beginning-a-sentence hoax. As Lloyd suggests, to stubbornly insist on obeying such a “rule” against all evidence to the contrary is to handicap the writer. And that makes for bad writing.

There. I’m done now.

Parting Is Such Sweet Sorrow

For those who breathlessly await each new post on the last word, I have some bad news. This Thursday, the family and I are headed to an undisclosed location to sit back and put our collective feet up for a spell. I shall return Tuesday, August 31—tanned, rested, and ready.

In the meantime, dig this: Grammar Nazi booted from Starbucks.

I sympathize with the woman, but geez-o-pete. Get a life, already.

Marauding Pigs!

Because it’s Friday—the 13th—I bring you a chilling tale of…radioactive boars!

“And the earth was without form, and void…”

Many, many, many times I’ve been told to not begin sentences with “and.” Or any other conjunction, for that matter. It’s one of two rules people remember from high school English class (the other being never to end your sentences with a preposition).

Both are nonsense.

Winston Churchill famously disabused us of the latter with “This is the sort of English up with which I will not put.” As for the former, I’ll let the late William F. Buckley, Jr. clear things up a bit.

To a correspondent who wrote in to say “Don’t start a sentence with ‘and,'” and then wondered “just how good (or bad) your high school was,” Buckley shot back a terse reminder that “verses 2-26 and 28-31, Chapter I, Genesis, all begin with ‘And.’ The King James scholars went to pretty good high schools.”

Touché.

What’s more important than scoring a cheap debating point, however, is to consider how Buckley explained his position to a subsequent correspondent:

“But my point wasn’t that the King James scholars correctly translated from the original, rather that they were the most influential writers in English history. The general rule is not to begin a sentence with “and”; the particular rule is that writers with a good ear know when to break the general rule.”

So here’s a rule worth remembering: Let your ear be your guide.

And don’t, warns Paul Brians, Emeritus Professor of English at WSU, confine English usage in a logical straitjacket.

Quote of the Day

From Thomas Merton comes this, the sort of statement that would make for a fine mantra—if I believed in the efficacy of mantras:

“If a writer is so cautious that he never writes anything that cannot be criticized, he will never write anything that can be read.”

Mmm…Books

Google tells us that there exist 129,864,880 different books in the world. It’s a bit daunting for the dwindling number of us who still read.

A more useful exercise might be to count how many books there are that are actually worth reading. The first step should be to remove from contention all memoirs by celebrities, athletes, and politicians. Then, we ought to cull the ridiculously overrated stuff—like Catcher in the Rye, for instance, and All the President’s Men. Finally, anything by L. Ron Hubbard.

There now. That makes our list a little more manageable, doesn’t it?

Summer Reading Notes

I’m in the midst of Patrick Leigh Fermor’s A Time of Gifts, an account of the author’s walk across Europe in the mid-1930s. He was in Germany, in fact, just as Hitler came to power—a time when the flames of political rhetoric were, one would think, much more easily fanned than they are today.

Yet Fermor, as he was making his way through Bavaria just months before the Night of the Long Knives, wrote that “it was still possible for people to know each other fairly well without the dimmest idea of their opinions.”

What a magnificent time that must have been.

Branding Xs and Os

Pac-10 commissioner Larry Scott is on a mission to raise awareness for his expanding athletic conference. In a recent edition of Sports Illustrated, he makes it clear that if the Pac-10 wants to increase its earning power—say, to the same level as the Big Ten and the SEC—then rebranding is in order.

Scott’s idea was sparked by another Sports Illustrated article that ran last year. Under the headline “SEC Football” read “Nobody Does It Better: The Nation’s Toughest Conference.” Ouch! Seems this particular story touched a nerve with the new commish, who promptly sent copies of the article to folks around the Pac-10 while telling them “if you don’t think conferences are brands, pay attention to this.”

I’ve never met Larry Scott, but I like him already. The recently unveiled Pac-10 logo (in the near future the “10” will be replaced with a “12”) will be seen on uniforms, playing surfaces, and school merchandise. Even conference TV spots will be revamped. But perhaps what I’m most impressed by is Mr. Scott’s understanding of identity and that a new logo, albeit important, won’t solve all their problems. He knows that a new Pac-10 identity can only be defined by the conference schools, athletes, and staff, wisely stating that “a logo is just a logo, unless you back it up with actions.”

I don’t advocate betting on college athletics, but I’m willing to wager that the Pac-10’s brand refresh will help improve their bottom line.

I’m Persua-dead

With the dog days* of summer upon us, one could do worse than find relief from the heat in the music of the Grateful Dead. It’s a seasonal thing for me: their live stuff goes on heavy rotation around May or June; by September they’re back in the ‘G’ section in my CD library.

I know what some of you are thinking. How can you—so suave and sophisticated, with your Mahler and Schönberg and Beethoven and Janáček—listen to those smelly hippies?

Glad you asked. Rather than discourse on the merits of the music itself, however, I’ll simply point you to a rather lovely treatment of “Ripple” from the 2000 album Might as Well: The Persuasions Sing the Grateful Dead.

We’re all hippies now.

*We can thank the Romans for this phrase. They called the hottest weeks of the summer caniculares dies, their theory being that the Dog Star, rising with the sun, added to its heat, and that the dog days (roughly July 3 to August 11) bore the combined heat of both.

Quote of the Day

In an article in the 01/2010 issue of Audi Magazine, Richard Koshalek, director of the Smithsonian’s Hirshhorn Museum and Sculpture Garden, had this to say about creative folks:

“Across the United States, to a large extent, there’s been a fear of the creative individual, of artists, that they’re going to do something unpredictable. We have to get over that fear. We have to see them as colleagues. I believe the future may be unknowable, but it’s not unthinkable. If this country would listen to creative people, things would be much better.”

America in Color, 1939–43

 

Because it’s not always about words, here’s an amazing collection of color images taken by photographers of the Farm Security Administration/Office of War Information.

Some Light Verse

While I’m not so much of a cotton-headed ninny-muggins as to suggest that all we need is to give peace a chance, I do believe that a good poem goes a long way toward healing the ills of our existence. With that in mind, readers of the last word will occasionally be treated to a hunk of verse hand-selected by AMD’s very own Poet Laureate. (That would be me.)

Today’s selection comes from William Plomer:

In the vegetarian guesthouse
All was frolic, feast, and fun;
Eager voices were enquiring,
“Are the nettle cutlets done?”
Peals of vegetarian laughter,
Husky, wholesome, wholemeal bread;
Will the evening finish with a
Rush of cocoa to the head?

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