Don’t challenge Mark Liberman to ‘look it up’

This Language Log post by Mark Liberman skewers another language mavin. Good job Mark!

The problem with water

What is it with people who buy bottled water? I don’t’ get it. Americans drank more than 31 billion gallons of the stuff in 2006 – nearly 28 gallons per person. And only God knows how many more gallons went to hydrate their pets. Environmentalists would argue that manufacturing all that bottled H2O required 900,000 tons of plastic and added as much greenhouse gas to the atmosphere as 500,000 cars, but I’m not an environmentalist. I just don’t see any point in buying bottled water when you can get the same substance from a household faucet; it’s essentially free and as safe to drink as pre-washed spinach is to eat.

But what do I know? I rarely drink water, anyway. My liquid of choice is aqua vitae, the water of life: anything from the good folks Portland’s Clear Creek Distillery, or beer with lots of hops (preferably Hair of the Dog, Fred), or Pacific Northwest wine.

By the way, if you want to break your bottled-water habit check in at newdream.org.

More on “Some like it hot; boomers’ failing taste buds”

Sacha Pfeiffer: I don’t disagree with the premise of your article in Bostom.com – boomers’ taste buds are failing and they’re losing their ability to taste – but give me a break, or at least a good cheeseburger. No self-respecting boomer would ever consider Spicy Guacamole Pringles, Tyson Hot ‘n’ Spicy Buffalo Style Chicken Chunks, Mo Hotta Mo betta Cayenne Garlic Hot Sauce, or McDonald’s Chipotle BBQ Snack Wrap as an antidote for failing taste buds as you suggest. So what’s next? Habanero merlot? What do boomers want to penetrate the fog of sensory deprivation? Three suggestions: fresh habaneros, beer with lots of hops, espresso made with love, and truth about real food. Don’t believe the food scientists; I have nothing against them except their ability to judge good taste. 

What is it that makes life worth living?

Fifty-eight years on this planet I still can’t answer the question. The best response I’ve been able to come up with is, “Stay engaged in activities that make life worth living,” which works when you’re engaged. But what about the down time, when you need to take a break from all those engaging activities: climbing the world’s highest mountains, writing the great American novel, teaching your kids to be fine citizens, volunteering for good causes, and attending church regularly? What do you do when getting high on life just doesn’t cut it and you just want to feel good?

That was what I was thinking about as I read Frank Owen’s new book, “No Speed Limit: The Highs and Lows of Meth.” Back in the late sixties, when I was an undergrad at Michigan State University, my idea of being engaged was extreme studying; I wanted to know more than anyone else and express it in my GPA. Since I couldn’t rely on genius or natural ability I had to do a lot of late-night studying and caffeine just wasn’t keeping me awake.

Dexedrine – Smith, Kline and French’s trade name for dextroamphetamine – along with marijuana and LSD, were all available on campus then, so I thought I’d give ‘Dex’ a try. I just wanted to feel good when I was studying and Smith-Kline’s advertising said it all: “Dexedrine’s gentile stimulation will provide… a new cheerfulness, optimism, and feeling of well-being that may again make … life seem worth living.”
In fact, Dexedrine did everything for me that Smith-Kline said it would. I loved studying on Dex; I’d take two caps with dinner, head over to the library, and immerse myself in assignments for hours.

After a few months I thought I’d try four caps: two with dinner and two for dessert. It wasn’t a good idea. Not long after I sat down at the library my heart rate rocketed to about four times it normal rate. I remember thinking, “Now you’re dying. Do you yell ‘help’ or just sit there and get it over with?” I didn’t want to make a scene so I just sat there, shaking, sweating, and gasping for breath. After a minute or so my pulse began to slow, but not for long. My heart kicked into high gear again, but not quite as fast as before. Then a third time and a fourth, and finally my heart found its normal rhythm. I had never established a personal relationship with God but I thanked him anyway for letting me live.

I haven’t touched a stimulant stronger than coffee since then.

I wonder how much better off we would be if we just limited our drug taking to judicious, well-calibrated, doses.

Reflections on a 40-year high school reunion

I guess it was only coincidence that my 40-year high school reunion was August 11, 2007, precisely one year after my mother died.

I decided to do the reunion about six months ago because the timing was right: I had a few good friends were going and I could stop by the nearby White Chapel Cemetery and pay my respects to my mom and dad. It would be my first trip to Michigan without living parents to visit.

I have a few memories from high school. The ones I recall most vividly are from activities illegal, irresponsible, or reckless. I had a good time but I’m lucky that what I did didn’t kill me or put me on probation. By my senior year the school-day routine had become a drag; I had Friday on my mind 24/7. On graduation day I said “good riddance” to high school and forgot about the place for the next 40 years.

But what I didn’t know was that part of my high school experience stayed with me all those years like some kind of latent parasite just waiting for the right moment to hatch. That happened when I put on my name badge with my mock-serious 1967 senior photo and looked out at the 70 other alumni (and 30 spouses) at the reunion – about 15 percent of our graduating class.

It was like a costume ball, with the costumes exquisitely crafted by Father Time. I was talking to people I never thought I’d see again and having a good time too. It was fun finding out who all these folks were who seemed like strangers to me, but weren’t. I talked to them for more than four hours, almost nonstop. It was just conversation, certainly not about shared memories or good times.

What was it about that high school ‘experience’ that stayed with me for 40 years? I don’t know. It seems like a dream to me now. Maybe it was.

And, if you were wondering: Wylie E. Groves High School, Class of ’67. I was one of about 450 graduating seniors.

The only cure is diet

For some reason, I still remember those puzzling words from Samuel Beckett’s Watt whenever I hear talk about dieting or weight loss.

A recent article in the Los Angeles Times points out that some employers may begin penalizing workers who are overweight in an effort to bring down health care costs or “improve” their health.  If I was a betting person I’d wager that such efforts will fail.

I’m inclined to agree with Ginal Kolata that fines or other incentives aimed at achieving ideal height-to-weight ratios or weight-reduction guidelines won’t help most overweight folks shape up.

Diet may be the only cure – but not for weight loss.

Fred Beckey Rules!

There’s a great picture of the man now gracing patagonia’s front page. If you know who Beckey is it’s worth a look. I still refer to my 1973 worn first edition of his Cascade Alpine Guide; Columbia River to Stevens Pass. We should all be so lucky in our mid-eighties.

Tufte ups the price of admission

Seems like everyone knows about Edward Tufte these days (his workshop fee is now $380 per person. I recall seeing him here in Portland, Ore., not too many years ago for about half that price.) So, maybe it’s time for me to find a new visual communication guru – but he’s still way ahead of the pack on innovative information presentation and design strategy.

If you’ve read all of Tufte’s books at least twice, you might want to check out what James Elkins has to say on the subject. Worth reading:

• The object stares back: on the nature of seeing
  “Vision is forever incomplete and uncontrollable because it is used to shape our sense of what we are; what we see remakes us. We are not free to see as we please. Some things reshape us as we see them and others hold us utterly captive until they drive us out our of ourselves.”
• How to use your eyes
  “Our eyes are far too good for us; they show us so much that we can’t take it all in so we shut out most of the world and try to look at things as briskly and as efficiently as possible.”
•  The domain of images
  “Our choices in art history have to do with what we expect pictures to be, and how we assume that expression and history arise in some images and not in others.”

Job opportunities for language police

If you work for the state of Oregon as I do, better start looking for your plain-language ’style guide’.

This just in from the Salem Statesman Journal:

‘Plain language’ bill moves forward

State agencies
May 9, 2007
Steve Law

The state bureaucracy must start using “plain language” in its written material, under a bill that won final legislative approval Monday.

House Bill 2702-A requires the governor to appoint a state agency to take charge of the project. The agency must develop a plan for all documents to use plain language, simple sentences and be of readable layout and lettering size.

“It’s about time for all state agencies to write in plain language so we all know what’s going on,” said Sen. Vicki Walker, D-Eugene.

In the future, words like “abeyance” will be a no-no, to be replaced by words like “suspension.”

The bill passed the Senate 28-1 Monday, with little discussion. It earlier passed the House 57-1.

State officials hope to make the required shift gradually, without any additional spending.

Conveniently, this measure doesn’t apply to legislative bills, Oregon Revised Statuates, and Oregon Administrative Rules – most of which could benefit from effective plain-language rewrites.

Meanwhile, if you can’t find your plain-language style guide, the best usage book I know of is Merriam-Webster’s Concise Dictionary of English Usage (ISBN: 0-87779-633-5).

So remember: In Oregon state government, words like “abeyance” will be a no-no, to be replaced by words like “suspension.” Good news for language police – bad news for those of us to try to write clearly.

Choose your words carefully and have a nice day. 

Dying without dignity

Allan Kelleher’s new book, “A social history of dying,” suggests a disturbing outcome for most of us during our final days: we’re likely to die a gradual death in a nursing home or hospital, ravaged by multiple organ failure, pneumonia or dementia, and the expense of intensive care. Our traditional notions of dying – going quickly and peacefully at home, surrounded by friends and family – are artifacts of history. The problem is this: we’re getting older but we’re not thinking about how to deal with the consequences of dying gradually and alone.

In spite of all the talk of health-care reform, the way we care for the dying rarely surfaces unless the media gives them celebrity status. Perhaps that’s because neither the public nor most policy makers seem to realize how the manner of dying has changed in recent years.

High-tech medicine reduces the risks of sudden death. But too often it prolongs and dehumanizes dying, preserving life at all costs but not the person, such as the 35,000 Americans living in a persistent vegetative state.

Most of us would prefer to die at home among friends and family, with pain treated aggressively – but it won’t happen unless we start thinking about the process differently, more compassionately.

Read Kelleher’s book; then read Stephen Kiernan’s, “Last rights; rescuing the end of life from the medical system,” to learn how to we might avoid dying without dignity.