These Times

You often read or hear about a crowd or the appearance of someone’s hair being “unruly,” but you rarely encounter a “ruly crowd” or “ruly hair.” “Ruly” is an example of what’s called a “lost positive,” a word that has lost its use in our daily language. Other examples of lost positives are “couth,” “ept,” “whelmed” and “gruntled.”

You can lead a cat to a scratching post, but you can’t make it itch.

We have the word “reflection” — an image created by light being cast on another image — but we don’t have a word for the thing that causes the reflection. It’s the same with the word “echo.”

When someone old says to me, “When we get to be our age …” I think, “What are you implying? That I’m as old as you?” Then I look closer at the person, do a little math, and figure out, yeah, we’re probably the same age. Then I sigh.

When our two sons were young and traveling with us in the car, I’d drive as slow as I could when we passed a traffic accident. I would tell Mrs. Ericson that I wanted the boys to see what could happen if you’re not a careful driver, but truly, it was mostly for my own prurient interest. This happens with parents. They often justify pursuing their own interests by claiming they’re doing it for the kids, much as my father did when he took me fishing, an activity he enjoyed but which I’ve always found boring and cruel.

My favorite people are people who aren’t quite sure of themselves.

I am a straight male, a descendant of Scots and Swedes, and my life ambition is to be a positive role model for that community.

I was playing pingpong — badly — several years ago with a fellow whose last name was Farber. He stopped play at one point and asked, “I notice you say, ‘oy vey,’ a lot. Why is that?” “Oy vey” is a Yiddish term that conveys dismay, and this gentile has been using it for as long as he can remember. I also was aware that Mr. Farber was Jewish, so I instantly worried he might think I was saying “oy vey” around him for impure reasons. I had never wondered where I picked up “oy vey” until that moment, and it seemed this could go bad fast if I couldn’t summon an honest answer. I was silent for several seconds before it came to me: “It’s probably from reading Mad Magazine too much when I was a kid. It had characters saying, ‘oy vey’ a lot.” Mr. Farber chuckled, and we resumed playing pingpong.

I was walking to my car in a parking lot last summer. When I arrived at a red Subaru Crosstrek, I depressed the key fob to unlock the door. The car remained unlocked. I tried again. Same thing. Then a woman who was sitting in a car next to me said, “That’s your car down there.” She pointed to the right, and sure enough, there was my car, about five cars to the right. She knew where my car was better than I did. What was even odder, I had noticed her when I first parked because she was sitting alone in her car, looking down at what I presume was her cellphone. How on earth did that woman know which car was my car?

A theological question: Did Eve and Adam have malodorous body odor before Eve — allegedly — ate the forbidden fruit?

Author Bio

Kirk Ericson, Columnist / Proofreader

Shelton-Mason County Journal & Belfair Herald
email: [email protected]