Readers of this column may recall treatises on single words and short phrases. Over the years, I’ve tackled individual words like “so” and its myriad meanings; “myriad,” “like,” “ya know” and “sorry.” More recently, there was a bilingual plunge into the words “tú” and “usted.”
This time, I’ll respond to submissions from readers regarding various phrases that sometimes confuse us. Last week this column contained a reference to the misuse of the language by GOP gubernatorial aspirant Susana Martinez, who said, “As governor, that will change.”
Martinez’s political promise implies that the governor is a “that” and that the winner in November will change. What she refers to is certain Richardson administration policies.
Well, we’re not necessarily picking on Republicans and their misuse of the language. Why, some of my best friends are both language abusers and Republicans. Now, Democrat congressional incumbent Martin Heinrich is making claims in his TV spots that can’t be borne out. He says, “Growing up, my father ….”
In an e-mail, my friend Jack Markham, a retired English teacher, pointed out Heinrich’s dangling modifier. Markham writes, “I made the bold assumption that Heinrich meant that when he, the congressman, was growing up,” and not Martin’s father.
But the words get in the way. The “growing up” phrase needs to be closer to the subject, in this case, Martin. Otherwise, we might assume the politician’s father was growing up, but the son wasn’t.
There are, after all, many expressions we merely accept. Few question the logic of a construction like, “My mother left home at the age of 8.” Now that’s precocity!
Or listen to a female sports interviewer saying, “As a Heisman Trophy winner and holder of three Super Bowl rings, I expect you to sack the quarterback several times today.”
Wrong. The reporter is not the 300-pound football player. It’s a question of where we hang our modifiers.
Another example of a misplaced modifier would be, “Weighing 5,000 pounds and standing nine feet tall, the sculptor completed the statue of Pioneer Woman, on the Highlands campus.” To which we say, “Stay away from the German chocolate cake,” Michelangelo.
Well, that and other uses of the English are what keep language cops awake. But here’s one instance in which I lost sleep. Barbara Dorris called with a “gotcha” alert. Referring to last week’s column, she said I’d used the wrong pronoun case in referring my brother and me (and I?).
I had written about a basketball goal my neighbors, the Pinos, had: “Mariano and his older brother Ray … welcomed visitors such as my brother and I.” As I wrote that, I considered rephrasing it to make sure it was clear, but the more I examined it, the more I was convinced “my brother and I” was correct.
Dorris said it should be “my brother and me.” Must I dig out a dusty grammar tome to cite chapter and verse? My contention is that “I” sounds like the right choice following a “such as” construction. Well, after further review, I concede. Barbara is correct. If we swap “visitors” for “me,” it makes sense.
And I received a phone call from a Joe Montoya, who asked, “What’s the word that follows ‘It’s a woman’s …’?” Taken by surprise, I answered, “world?” “scorn?” “intuition?” “nightgown?” What Montoya was fishing for was “woman’s prerogative.”
I pronounced the word and Montoya responded with, “See? You said ‘purrogative’ and it should be ‘pre-rogative.’” He’s right, of course, about the spelling, but no dictionary recommends using the sound “pre” (rhymes with free) in this word’s prefix.
I’m sure Montoya emphasized the “pre-” to contrast it with “purr.” People elide repeated or similar sounds, which is why we often hear “liberry” “probly,” “goverment and “tear” for “terror,” as in War on Tear.
“Prerogative” comes from the Latin, meaning “asked first.” The term “rogar” is a common Spanish word meaning to ask for or plead.
The term “haplology” is defined as “the collapse of two identical or very similar adjacent syllables into one.” Sometimes it’s difficult to make the tongue perform complex gymnastics and catch every syllable. It’s all a matter of economy of effort.
And that’s why I struggle with words like “necessitate,” I elide, or cut off one or two syllables and come up with “nesitate. I’ve written too much already about haplology, but that’s probly my purrogative.
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In last week’s column I commented on the paucity in the use of the “vosotros” form in Spanish, implying we’d have to go way back or way far to hear it today.
In Beginning Spanish at Immaculate Conception High School, we learned the “vosotros” form as a polite way of addressing more than one person, but most of us had never heard the word at home or anywhere else.
On that subject, here’s a reply from John Goodwin: “If you would like to hear vos and vosotros in use on a daily basis, you do not have to travel back in time, just go to Argentina.”
Given the hassles of international travel — invariably, I’m pestered, pierced, pinched, plucked, punched, poked, prodded, pummeled and patted in a way that makes me feel like a “tearist” (see above, in the prerogative paragraph) — I think it just might be easier to go back in time.
But if Goodwin wishes to make the trip south, we can all await his report.