Several of us thought we were hearing things — which we were — when there came an exchange between a teacher and principal. It went something like this:
    “Do you mean the class can’t keep the money irregardless of how hard each one worked? To which the principal answered, “Yes, irregardless.”


    Without getting technical, I need to emphasize that the use of “irregardless” prompts the question, “as opposed to what?” If we’re going to use that coined term, then what does plain old “regardless” mean?
    Try recasting the sentence and inserting “regardless” where its bulkier, more awkward counterpart appears. Doesn’t “regardless” suffice, does the new prefix negate the negation, giving it a meaning of “not regardless”? And might people be thinking of different terms, like “irrespective” and “irregular”?
    Attending all of the recent Optic-sponsored city council/mayoral forums lately has made many of us aware of some interesting coinages of words. On the one hand, there are many charter members of the “What Does It Matter, As Long As We Understand It?” school. They have a point. But for the rest of us, who have worked so hard to maintain the last vestiges of the language, it Does Matter.
    At a recent forum, Leith Johnson passed me a list of words she’d caught at various forums (or, as my English teacher would say, various “fora”). One of the words, one we’ve heard more frequently in times of drought, is “zeroscaping,” as opposed to “xeriscaping.” The “x” in xeriscaping sounds like a “z.”
    The x-word refers to a spartan scheme that conserves water by limiting the planting of grass and other greenery. But in this case, “zeroscaping” says it better. The city says no watering, and that means zero.
    Another term, also water-related, refers to “effluent,” which sounds like “affluent.” But there are shades of difference. Now “effluent” refers to an outflow from a sewer or sewage system, currently a big concern for voters ready to march to the polls in March.
    But “affluent” gives it a more uptown connotation. Sewer water is what people in my neighborhood put up with. But “affluent” is what flows out of sewer lines in more opulent neighborhoods, the silk-stocking districts. But just be careful where you step with those stockings.
    During the forum for municipal judge, we heard about how “court costs help to defer” certain expenses. The speaker didn’t mean “defray”? We thought so, but after further review, changed our minds. To defray is to help pay expenses. Selling brownies helps defray the costs of the scouts’ field trip. To “defer” is to submit to the wishes or decisions of another, or to put off, to postpone, as in sentencing.
    A judge, weary of a endless procession of scofflaws, all deserving jail time, may not wish to assess court costs all at once. Better to defer them.
    Judee Williams was taking notes when we heard one of the council candidates declare, “I am not anyone’s political pond.” Our first impulse may have been to correct the speaker: “Don’t you mean political pawn?” but that more likely was a carefully chosen combination which seems appropriate.
    Here’s why: A pawn, whose most common reason for being relates to a chess game, refers to something dispensable and easily manipulated, a candidate whose purpose is solely to defray to more effluent manipulators.
    But “pond” has considerable merit. In addition to the concerns that Storrie Lake will soon become Storrie Pond, we hear people using the term “pond scum” and ‘bottom feeder.” Now these are sobriquets people would wish to avoid. And we trust this candidate will never allow himself to be identified with anything having to do with ponds.
    At Tuesday’s forum a speaker referred to a charitable organization as a nun-profit organization. Now that description was perfect. Though it’s rare to use the words “nun” and “profit” in the same sentence, this usage helps explain the few coins people like Mother Teresa would be able to glean to help the poor. “Nun-profit,” in this context, is ideal, and habit-forming. If Miriam, Deborah and Judith of Biblical times had been running such an organization, would that have been a nun-prophet group?
    Once, my dean at Highlands said, “We have about 20 nun-readers.” And he said it as if that were a problem. The convents in Las Vegas had closed years earlier, and nun-students were scarce. My only nun-student, a Sister Castigata Fortissimo, was an excellent reader.
    Alfonso Ortiz, himself a former city councilor, current county treasurer and former education professor at Highlands University, stopped by the Optic last week to comment on my recent column about a culvert in my childhood ‘hood. He used the term “chivo.” That word is one of many about which I am uncertain. My dad called me “chivo” after I locked the keys in the family car and also when I won a spelling bee at school.
    Is the term one of praise or derision? I looked it up in three English/ Spanish dictionaries. One of them, a Webster’s Wal-Mart edition that sells for 97 cents, doesn’t list any words beginning with ch.
    A second dictionary places all the “ch” words between the “c” and “d” entries. And the third, wisely, places “ch” within the “c” section, where it belongs. The Spanish alphabet, in many dictionaries, by the way, no longer treats “ch” as a separate letter.
    The definition it provides for “chivo’ is goat or kid. Was Ortiz kidding, trying to get my goat? Now, another word I’ve been called (it’s the first Spanish word non-Spanish speakers learn when they arrive here), also means a big goat or big kid.
    But that’s a subject for another column.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *