Remember the Serf Theater sign, the one abandoned several years ago, with “In Her Shoes” left there, giving the impression it was one of history’s longest-running movies?
It’s gone through several transformations, some rather clever, such as “Heros Shine” and “Oh He’s Risen.” Remember the rules: Thou who rearrangeth the sign shalt use all of the letters. Only recently, somebody took the trouble to anagrammize the west side of the sign.�
The change now reads, “3 Roses for Her. Fini.” Apparently the sign also contained the date, “31 Fri.,” which accounts for the extra letters.
So what are we to make of the latest attempt? Does the “fini,” obviously indicating “the end,” apply here? Do we need to add “fini” to a marquee, in the way reporters used to end their news stories with “30″? And does the sign really need a reminder that the 16- letter message has ended?
As a kid going to Spanish movies with my parents at the old Kiva on Bridge, I used to wonder at the spelling of “fine” at the conclusion of movies, until Dad explained “fin” means “the end” in Spanish. And in Latin and French, it’s “finis.” So apparently, the latest marquee arranger had either one letter too many or too few.
I received an e-mail this week from Lynette Diaz Bachert, of Las Vegas, now in New Zealand. We met years ago when she was a high school journalist who joined our crew in Flagstaff for a two-week journalism workshop.
She said she’d like to help me rearrange these same 10-14 letters at the Serf when she arrives for a visit in August. Apparently Lynette believes I have something to do with the arrangements. As I’ve stressed in previous columns, I don’t handle the letters; I merely report on them.
My editor, David Giuliani made his opinion known the day he arrived here, in 2004. He faulted the omission of an apostrophe on a sign that warns of dire consequences if some unauthorized car parks in our spot. The sign tells of how such cars will be “towed away at owners expense.” The word “owners” lacks a bloomin’ apostrophe and should be “owners’“ instead.
Giuliani’s right, and I’ve tried to right the matter by writing an apostrophe with a Right Writer, which lasts through one rainstorm.�
But I’m more concerned about the message: Why do we even specify “the owners’ expense”? Has anyone ever threatened to have it towed at “our expense”? Yeah, right. We’ll call a wrecker, but this trip will be on us. Have a nice day.
Apostrophes perform lots of duties as English punctuation. Is there any character that causes more confusion?
For example, it appears few people can pluralize their own last names. In a church bulletin, we once read about a trip taken by our friends, “the Bunch’s.” It’s really just one Bunch, but two or more Bunches (no apostrophe). Now if we’re talking about something that belongs to one of them, it’s Bunch’s piano (or whatever); and if it belongs to all of them, it’s the Bunches’ guitar (or house).
In a letter to a friend with the surname Gallegos, I pluralized the reference in the context of “all the Gallegoses attended.” One Gallegos, two Gallegoses. One Aragon, two Aragones, not Aragon’s.
“Hey, what are you doing to my good name?” my Gallegos friend asked.�
Well, I was trying to render it correctly, in plural form. He said he’d never seen his name “manacled” in such a way and preferred “‘Gallego’s,’ the way all of us Gallego’s have always spelled it.”
The quotation mark also causes woes, especially when people use it for emphasis. One sign in town specifies the facility will “not” be responsible for lost or stolen items.
Fair enough, but to emphasize that key word, there are italics, all caps, bold face, but one shouldn’t use all three. When everybody’s shouting, nobody can hear.
Quotations around individual words often give them an ironic twist, as if the writer meant exactly the opposite. A restaurant sign in town advertises “special” salsa for its tacos. If the sauce is indeed special, the owners ought not tinker with that specialness.
Quotes around that word may make customers wonder whether the “special” salsa tastes like Drano. Or consider the oft-repeated sign in town: The pool is “closed.” The superfluous punctuation makes people wonder: Is it open or closed? But no matter, they still need to rattle the door handle to make sure.
Finally, apostrophes can function as replacements for certain characters. In columns, I use the expression ‘60s to avoid having to write 1960s. Yet, many people, graduates of some sort, sprinkle gratuitous apostrophes generously. It’s as if their teacher said, “Students, you hold the key to the future, and as you embark on a new life after high school, I’m giving each of you 112,000 ‘free’
apostrophes. Use them generously, and any time you don’t know what to do with an ‘s’ at the end of a word, throw in an apostrophe.”
A thank-you note from a high school graduate contained the student’s name with “2007″ next to it. Another note had simply “07.” Now such use of quotation marks indicates identity, as if the writer hopes to get out this message: “In high school I went by Gilbert, but now I’d like to be called ‘2007.’“
Strange nickname, obviously shared by many others.
We also received a card from a relative who married a man with the surname “Lave.” We expected the return address to be from the “Laves” (one Lave, two Laves), but instead, it came out “Lave’s.”
And to you, college-educated relative who made the Dean’s List a zillion times: Do we need to physically strip you of all the apostrophe’s your English teacher once “gave” you?
Fini.