By JoEllen Collins
One of my favorite literary characters probably appealed to me because, even as a girl, I sensed that I was afflicted with the same malady. Of course, I didn’t know about her until college, but I immediately recognized her linguistic flaws. Mrs. Malaprop is a forceful character in a William Sheridan 1775 play called “The Rivals.” She abuses the English language by using wrong words, often to the hilarity of her listeners. The word “malapropism” (mal a propos, “out of place”) has become familiar due to her character. Examples she voiced were, “As headstrong as an allegory on the banks of the Nile.” “He is the very pineapple of progress” and “My affluence over my niece is very small.”
My mother had an extensive vocabulary, a quality I unconsciously emulated as I developed my love of storytelling and performance. Sometimes that led me into trouble, even as a teacher. I used, for example, the word “conundrum” instead of “problem” to a senior class at Santa Monica High School and couldn’t understand why all the boys were snickering. Later, I realized they imagined I meant “condom.”
As an adopted and much-awaited child, I was encouraged to talk a lot, and sometimes I found myself the object of gentle laughter. I used to think, for instance, that the words “Stand beside her, and guide her,” in “God Bless America,” referred to a Mister Stan and his friend Giter. My parents thought it was “cute.” For years I extolled the virtues of my home state with, “I love my California steak.”
As I matured, I learned to take a very brief pause before I misapplied certain words, but as I have now entered into the later part of life, they slip in more often. The other day a friend asked me if I was going to cook a dish using my ………….. She forgot the word “blender,” so I filled in “ostracizer” instead of “Osterizer.” A good chance for a laugh at my expense.
My family had a great sense of humor, and I have developed a rather self-deprecating one. I was planning to meet some friends recently at one of the several parks in Blaine County, and I wasn’t sure I knew how to get there. As we arose from our seats, I said the following, asking for directions: “I don’t want to get there without knowing where I’m going.” Another chance for gentle laughter, including mine.
Sometimes I even toss in phrases gleaned from the internet. While reading aloud a passage with the phrase “We are not saints,” I intoned, “We are not robots.” After the laughter, I realized that I was citing several of those computer ID checks. Texting also does me in: an autocorrect word, ”stupid” was substituted for “studly” about my friend’s husband.
My excuse is that I keep my mind full and often remember useless things rather than important ones, like people’s names. So Annie, NOT Agatha, please forgive me. You ARE important to me, a simple older lady.
